Day 453

August 31, 2014

Day 453

 

The last few hours of August, for which I am grateful.  August is probably my 12th most favorite month.

 

Although, I do have to be fair.  This August has not been so rough.  I have been plagued by hayfever my entire life.  It usually starts the second week of Aug, Sept. tends to be rough, and by Oct. it's slowly improving.  The first frost ends it all.  So every year, I pray for an early frost!  It's just plain misery most days.  My eyes continually feel like they have sand in them, I awaken every morning with my eyelashes glued shut, I wake up gasping for breath in the wee hours of the morning and have to pop an antihistamine.  Sometimes I am so drugged up I know I should not be driving.  I have a continually sore neck because I have to sleep with my head propped up all night long in order to breathe.  Some days I have absolutely horrible allergy attacks where nothing I take seems to touch the allergies.  I sneeze and sneeze and sneeze and the older I get, the less confident my bladder is, so my sneezing causes other issues.  I'm wet from head to foot - or at least, the bottom of my torso.

 

But this year, I am not experiencing it.  Yet, anyway.  Maybe Sept will be miserable; I don't know.  I can tell it's allergy season.  I have had to take a few zyrtec, but normally zyrtec will not touch my allergies this time of year.  I did have one day this month where I had to go for the chlortrimeton, which is usually my go-to drug during the season.  Since I don't have it built up in my system that one time I had to take it really knocked me out.    I'm not sure what is happening.  For the past couple of years, the boys and I have been going to that chiropractor in Jefferson who claims to "heal" allergies.  I take those kind of claims with a grain of salt, but I figured if he only  helped, it would be an improvement.  We did go see him Aug. 1 and after doing one treatment, he said there was nothing more he could do for us - we were cured - until and if other allergies crop up in the future.  I internally rolled my eyeballs at that piece of information, but his declaration will save me some money since our insurance won't cover these visits, so I'll roll with it.  But now that I've had this amazing August...I don't know.  Maybe this guy does know what he's talking about.  More than likely, it's probably some fluke thing.  But I will take it, anyway! 

 

It's been a really, really wet past few weeks, too, so maybe that's had something to do with the ragweed growth.  Once it dries out, I may find my symptoms increasing.

 

***********************************

 

I told the kids the other day that we needed to, "hit the road."  I knew Sam was being deliberately funny, but he seriously replied, "That sounds bloody!"  I rather imagine it could be.

 

*******************************

I just feel so blah lately.  I'm not  sure what it is, if it's any one particular thing or just a combination of different factors.  Will left, I have had tremendous, tremendous behavior difficulties with Lizzie the past few weeks, I've had this Medicaid deal hanging over my head (which is, thankfully,resolved now). I'm gaining weight, but the ways I know to lose it all sound singularly unappealing.  I'm trying to figure out what I'm supposed to do with the rest of my life now.  I keep kicking around ideas in my head and don't find myself too enthusiastic or peaceful about any of them. But the worries about my eventual financial future continue to mount in my mind.  Oh, and Paul is still dead.  Is this what depression feels like?  I don't know.  Maybe this, too, will pass.  I think I have spent most of my life anticipating things and right now, for the first time, I can't think of a single thing to look forward to.  I'm not so sure that looking forward to the day these kids are finally grown and leave me alone counts, either...

 

The future just seems so bleak right now.  I know in June I reported that I was starting to see "shoots of hope" sprouting up in the parched and barren land that is my life.  However, I think a drought came and they withered.  I'm just not seeing anything right now.

 

There has to be something more cheerful to write about, right?

 

*************************

I did get my story submitted to the Good Housekeeping contest this week.  That felt good.  I haven't written anything since Paul died other than this blog and a few devo pieces for Jewels.  I knew what I wanted to write about for the contest but I put it off and put it off.  I do that, normally.  I dread the start of writing anything.  I don't really know why because I like writing.  Once I get going I can do it, but man, staring at that blank page in my Word program is still so intimidating!  But I got the story done, had a friend edit it for me, and emailed it in.  I don't think I will win and that's not even my motivation for entering.  I just wanted to do it to do it.  Paul's death took away a lot from me, but I hated the thought it might have taken my writing, too.

 

****************************

I saw Will briefly Friday night.  He got off work and drove straight down.  He shoveled some enchilada casserole in his mouth and loaded up his brothers in his car and took them to the first Pleasantville game.  That was nice of him.  Before he pulled out of the driveway he handed me his hamper and asked me to wash up his clothes while he was at the game.  Then, he came home later, watched some high football Friday night round-up show with David, and took off after 11 to make his midnight curfew at Faith.  Before he left he took the entire pan of enchilada casserole. I'm feeling a bit used.

 

It occurred to me this week that one of the reasons I am probably taking Will's departure so hard is that, of all the boys, he is most like Paul in personality.  As long as he was home, it was as though I still had a bit of Paul here.  But now I don't.  But, Sam reminds me an awful lot of Will at the same age, so maybe as he grows up I'll get some of that back.  I've already determined that even if Will eventually moves out of state, I'm going to ship Sam off to him on a regular basis, just so Will can continue to have that kind of influence in his little brother's life.  Will has always been particularly attached to Sam, so I don't think he'll have a problem with my plans.

 

Will said it was kind of funny, after the game, Sam asked if he could run the length of the football field, from one goalpost to the other.  He wasn't even wearing tennies, but Will told him to go for it, thinking he'd make it partway down the field before collapsing.  Will told me Sam never stopped once, just ran like the wind, all the way down the field!

 

When Ben got home I asked him how the game went.

 

"Oh, it was a tough game, " he replied, shaking his head.

 

"Oh?" I asked, "What was the score?"  Thinking it would be some nailbiting numbers, I had to laugh when Ben told me it was 21-0!

 

"But it was a tough game!" he repeated as he went down to bed.  I was recounting this conversation a few minutes later to Will and David and David rolled his eyes.  He told me Ben had to tell that to everyone at the game and of course, everyone had to talk to Ben while there.  He seems to be pretty popular at school and related events.  It made me laugh, anyway!

 

**************************************

Maybe Ben is the reason  that one of my top two favorite movies of all time is Forrest Gump.  That of course, is the 1994 movie starring Tom Hanks about the mentally slow Forrest Gump who, while maintaining his complete innocence about the world around him, manages to have this amazing life.  In a lot of ways, Forrest reminds me of Ben.

 

David and I watched the movie together last night.  The boys gave it to me for my birthday 5 months ago but I have not taken the time to sit down and watch it.  I just always have too  much to do to commit 2 hours or more to sitting and doing nothing!  But David has been wanting to watch it, so we did.  I had only ever seen it in pieces when it was aired on tv.  Evidently they did quite a bit of editing for the tv version.  :(

 

But, I still love it.  What a story!  I didn't realize until starting the movie last night that it is based on a novel.  Now I really, really want to read the book!  I've had the theme song running through my head all day.

 

********************************

I said something a little while ago to David about a hymn I want sung at my funeral.  It's The Solid Rock, which is my favorite hymn.  Well, next to It is Well with my Soul.  That's always been my favorite and was the reason I picked it for Paul's funeral.  I still love it, but I have a very hard time singing it now because of the memories associated with it.  So anyway, I told David I want this other hymn at my funeral and he says,

 

"Great - now you're going to wreck another of my favorite songs  for me!'  Sorry, Kid!...

***************************

A bad storm is rolling in.  I have an uneasy feeling about this one and had better get off the computer.  I'll be back in a few days and will, hopefully, still have a standing house.  Maybe I'll have a happier attitude about life, too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 449

DIARY OF AN UNWILLING WIDOW

August 27, 2014

Day 449

 

Ben's first day of school...no more sleeping in for me.  As I crawled into bed last night I thought to myself, "Another school year without Paul."  Only 15 of those to go until I'm finished.

 

Ben is going to be able to continue working at the farmer's market as part of his school experience.  I emailed his teachers last night, not expecting a response until today, but they were quite enthusiastic in their support of this idea.  Of course, it keeps them from having to come up with other career exploration ideas for him until Nov, so that might be some of why they're so supportive!

 

The insurance thing...is taken care of.  I think.  This was really quite the experience.  I plugged the address into my GPS Mon. morning and drove to a rather unsavory part of Des Moines.  Really - the office is located over by Martin Luther King Parkway.  I think I was north of I-235, but I'm really not sure.  I hope I never have to go there again.

 

I got there at 9:30 in the morning and stood in line for an hour.  Then, I sat and waited for another half hour.  All this time gave me a good opportunity to observe humanity.  Over and over I heard people complaining about the same thing - they couldn't get through on the phone, so they were having to visit in person.  I understand that!  As I watched the people around me, I noticed a rather curious thing within myself.  I think, in the past, I would have had some pride springing up.  I would have been proud that I wasn't like these people - I have more money, I have a nicer home (I would assume), I dress better, I talk better, etc.  But as I searched my heart that morning, I could honestly say that was not what I was feeling.  Instead, I felt...compassion. 

 

Who helps these people?  I'm sure some social workers try, but there are just too many needs to be all that effective.  I saw immigrants who couldn't speak English at all.  They would be handed papers to fill out and they looked so confused.  The woman in front of me was nearly beside herself as she told me her story over and over.  She has two sons who have been dx and medicated for about 16 conditions each.  Her husband has had 4 heart attacks and had a defibrillator put in July 24.  But he has to sleep within 3 foot of a phone cord and the only phone jack in their apartment is in the kitchen which is farther than 3 feet from the bedroom.  She is borderline mentally retarded and can only read at a 2nd grade level.  She spent all her school years in Special Education but the flood of '93 destroyed her records so she is ineligible for SSI.  She's bi-polar and has a host of other diagnoses.  Her Medicaid paperwork was stolen out of her mailbox because her landlord refuses to put a lock on it.  I don't know how much of what she was telling me was true, but I helped her fill out her application.  She truly could not read. 

 

The line stretched longer as I waited.  There were people that smelled bad.  There were poorly dressed mothers who wore too tight of tops, too short of shorts, showed off their leopard printed bra straps, and  were tattooed from head to foot.  I'm pretty sure there were some homeless people in line.  One woman had holes all over the seat of her jeans (jeans on a stifling hot day) and you could see big chunks of her underwear peeking through.  I'm just glad she wore underwear!

 

My heart just ached the more I watched.  Yes, bad choices have probably lead to a lot of what I saw.  Ultimately, of course, everyone is responsible for their lot in life.  We've all read stories about people who have started out in very poor circumstances but chose to overcome their environment and make  successes out of themselves.  At the same time, though, I don't totally blame everyone else for not making the same choice.  When you're undereducated, when the only people you know have all made similar choices of poverty, drugs, crime, and whatever else, it can be difficult to realize that other choices can be made, that you, indeed,  have a choice.  And then they are sucked into lives of utter dependence on others and the government.  It's just so sad.

 

And then, as I stood there, the thought struck me that this is what my girls were saved from.  The birth family they emerged from was rife with govt. dependence, crime, illegitimate births, low education, and poverty.  If things had not happened the way they had, the girls could have been standing in that same line with their birth mother, waiting for their govt. handout.  I'm not saying that poverty and lack of education is a reason to remove children from their birth parents - not at all.  But unfortunately, those kind of environmental factors can often lead to other poor choices, including child abuse and neglect.  I shuddered.

 

At one point, I whipped out my Kindle so I could pass the time by reading.  I was afraid to get my phone out because every so often I heard people in line asking if anyone "had a phone."  Not knowing for sure it would be returned to me, I thought it best to keep mine in my pocket.  Although, it might have been that nobody would want to borrow mine anyway.  Mine is a bit of a dinosaur and I saw quite a few iphones on others as I stood there...not judging, simply observing!  Anyway, I have the Bible on my kindle, so read Psalm 91 several times as I prayed I could sit down with someone regarding my situation and that it would be met with favor.

 

Eventually, I was called back to speak with someone.  I tried to be extra nice, but  I still felt like the woman was impatient and treated me like I had the understanding skills of a second grader.  She very quickly determined that my paperwork had been misfiled all summer long.  Furthermore, it was evident that my children still qualify for Medicaid, despite me being told otherwise in May.  I asked about this and she honestly told me it had to do with Obamacare.  The new health care rules changed a lot of previous guidelines.  While I had the attention of a live human, I then asked about the girls' insurance.  For some reason, they are still covered as foster children, even though the adoption took place nearly a year ago.  Again, it goes back to the health care laws.  The lady told me this would probably be the case for another year or two.  I guess it doesn't matter.

 

Yesterday, I received a new notice of decision that informed me the boys were covered by Medicaid from July 1 onward.  That's fine, except David had a dental appointment in June...but  I am so tired of dealing with DHS and I am not going to go stand in line all over again to get the date corrected.  I will just pay for the dental visit myself rather than go through that.

 

What an ordeal, huh?  And as socialized medicine and other forms of 'care" are forced upon us it will only get worse in my lifetime.  I rather imagine I'll be spending a lot of time in long lines and crying after phone calls.

 

***************************

We saw a rainbow on the way to town the other day.  The kids were excited and I used this as  an opportunity to remind them that the rainbow is a symbol of how God will always keep his promises.  I'm not sure the kids even heard me when I said that, though.  Lizzie said something about there being "blue and purple" on the bottom of the rainbow and Sam dismissively retorted, "You mean, 'indigo and violet,' right?"  Indigo and violet?  Who IS this kid?

 

Time to go do Learning RX with David, and then feed the Littles.  The sky is threatening to rain, but so far it's dry.  I almost wish the rain would just come and get it over with.  Moving along...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 445 B

August 23, 2014

Day 445 Part B

 

What a day.  This morning I had a horrible allergy attack.  The drug I took seems to have helped with that, but I still have a migraine-like sinus headache.  I was able to fit in a 2 hour nap, which helped, but now I am groggy, hurting, and that much farther behind on my to-do list.  That's the way it goes, I guess, at least during allergy season.

 

I wrote last week about the kids' insurance issue I had been having.  At the time, it sounded like everything was taken care of it and I was so relieved.  Well, it's not taken care of.  I am absolutely sick at heart over this.    I began to get concerned when I did not receive paperwork and medical cards from Hawk-i, even though the last person I had talked to there assured me all was well.  So I called this week.  The man I talked with told me he had no record of my kids at all and they had received no referral from Medicaid.  It has been three months since Medicaid told me the kids were being referred!   I called Medicaid and the number I was given sent me to a telemarketing firm attempting to sell me a cruise.  I didn't make a mistake with the number.  I finally found a different number for Medicaid and every single time I sat through the spiel of which number to call and every single time I was told, "We're sorry, our call volume is especially high.  Please call another time."  And I would be hung up on.  I was in tears.

 

What am I supposed to do?  I have already cancelled several appointments this summer for David.  If either he or Sam gets hurt and I have to take them in, they will have no insurance.    I really do not feel that I can afford to buy private insurance for the kids.  I could get my attorney on this - and I may have to - but that will cost me money that I, again, really cannot afford.  There would be a certain amount of irony to having to hire an attorney to collect benefits available to lower-income residents, anyway.

 

I have an address for Medicaid and need to see if I can find one for Hawk-i.  Monday I intend to drive to the offices (which are probably in a not-so-good area of town) and see if I can get through by talking to someone in person.

 

Pray for me.  This is such a mental buden on me right now and I need resolution quickly.  I feel absolutely sick every time I think about it.

 

********************************

This week Ellie loaded the dishwasher all by herself one day.  I was astounded.  She pulled the stool over to the sink, stood on it, rinsed off the dishes in the sink and very neatly stacked them in the dishwasher.  This is a child who can't seem to remember that walls and furniture are not appropriate coloring surfaces, doesn't always remember to use the toilet instead of her pants, but she can load a dishwasher?  Since then, she's done it several times.  Ben already does all the unloading.  I may be out of job now!

 

Speaking of the dishwasher, I made my own detergent for it recently.  I did some research on the internet and found a recipe using kosher salt, borax, super washing soda and lemonade koolaid packets.  While cost effective it's not quite as good as Cascade, that I've  always used.  So, what I've been doing is to just switch off every other time I wash a load.  One time I use the homemade variety, the next, Cascade.  It seems to be doing the job.

 

**********************************

This week on my Mourning into Dancing board (for widows) the lady who started the group commented that in her 5 years of moderating the group, she has yet to see any relationship started before the 3 year mark ever lead to marriage.  Now granted, 5 years isn't a terribly long time to have been observing, but it is still considerable.  There was a remarriage thread and someone else commented that women typically need more time to process their grief.  It's just the way we are made and a way we differ from men.  That would explain why men generally remarry a lot quicker than women do.  Hearing the moderator's observation about the 3 year mark really helped me.  I almost felt like a burden rolled off my back.  I don't have to be concerned about finding another husband/how to do it/where to do it until Paul has been gone for at least 3 years.  If I mess around before that mark, it sounds like it will be pointless and could lead to further heartbreak for myself and the kids.

 

So I'm done.  I'm done fussing about it in my mind.  Yes, I would very much like to remarry at some point.  That hasn't changed.  I know that God delights in giving us the desires of our heart and if He thinks another husband is what I need at some point, He will fulfill that desire for me.  If not, I will learn contentment.

 

But now is not the time.  I am actually accepting that with a certain amount of relief.  I can keep on doing what I'm doing without worrying about finding another man.  I can continue to mourn Paul and raise my children and go about my life without any internal fussing about the possibility of another mate.  And then someday, when the time is right and probably when I least expect it...there he will be.

 

*************************************

It was nearly a week ago that I had that near panic attack over my finances and worry about the future.  I've calmed down considerably since then and it even occurred to me mid-week that I know I must homeschool David through high school. I know, I know, I know that public school is not the best option for him.  Four or five years from now, if I've packed him off to college, I don't think I'll be feeling what I'm feeling now with Will.  I'll be imbued with a sense of victory that I got  David so far that he can even go to college.  He needs to be home yet.  That pretty much means I've got 4 years to decide what to do about the future.  While I'd love to think I can stay home until Ellie graduates, right now I'm actually ok with the idea of putting all three of them in public school.  Of course, that may change if the reality is, eventually,  that I have to do that!  At the very least I have four years to invest my time and interest in the kids before trading it for financial survival.   I talked this all out with Marcia yesterday and she reminded me that a whole, whole lot  can happen in four years.  I have no idea what's around the corner.  Of course, that's also what frustrates me.  I want to see everything right now!  She told me that the reason I don't have the answers at the moment is because I don't need them right now.

 

Ok.

 

Yesterday morning the mayor of Pleasantville stopped by my house to get a water sample (he's also our water guy - around here, our towns are so small that our  mayors also have to have "real" jobs!).  He mentioned to me that Pleasantville's part-time deputy city clerk position is about to open up and he thought I'd be perfect for that job.  For a moment I was torn.  Was this an answer to my prayer and angst earlier in the week?  It only took a few seconds for me to shake my head, though.  This was not the answer, as tempted as I might be.  My kids need me.  I'm already so torn and running around half-cocked because of time pressures.  If I were out of the home 4 hours a day that would only increase the stress levels in our house.  Plus, it would mean David would have to babysit that much more.  He already does it more often than he should have to.  There will be other job opportunities when the time is right.

 

*****************

I heard this week that the literal translation of Jerusalem is, "city of peace."  Isn't that interesting? I never knew that.

****************************

Last night at scrapbooking I had a great conversation with my friend, Luanne.  We were talking about the whole Ferguson, Missouri thing.  That's an event I have been disgusted by but haven't allowed myself the luxury yet of really sitting down and thinking about.  Like I saw on a FB post today, you throw a molative cocktail at police and then complain about "excessive force"?  Anyway, we talked for quite awhile about race and my concerns about doing the right thing for the girls.  Luanne is such a blunt talker and loves to debate.  But she told me, "Sarah - those girls are not yours by accident.  Don't worry about the race thing.  You just love them, raise them by instinct, and things are going to be fine."

 

I think I need to unsubscribe from my transracial FB group.  The posts just mess me up.  Of course, they've all been pro-demonstrations in Ferguson and someone even asked last week who was going down to protest.  I'm disgusted.  Yes, I know that racism still exists, but it does not exist to the extent that it did 40 years ago.  I really think Martin Luther King Jr. would be appalled by what is happening.

 

Today, Lizzie came to me and said, "I wish I wasn't black."  My heart froze.  I have read that sooner or later, most black girls will express this.  It's usually in relation to beauty issues since, like it or not, the blue-eyed, long haired blond beauty does still tend to be our ultimate symbol of what is considered beautiful in this world.   I think that is slowly changing, but we're not quite there yet.

 

I questioned her and it very quickly came out that Lizzie associates negative behaviors with brown skin.  She told me that it seems like on tv the people getting arrested are black and the women wearing skanky clothing are black and the people not taking care of their kids right  are black.  I was very quick to point out to her that bad choices have nothing to do with the color of one's skin, but with the "color" of their heart (we talk a lot about heart "colors" around here).  Fortunately (?) Paul has a nephew who has spent quite a bit of his young life in the Nebraska penal system and I was able to use him as an example to Lizzie that white people make very, very bad choices, too.   I assured her that there are plenty of brown people who dress appropriately, talk intelligently, and lead very successful and God-honoring lives. 

 

But Lizzie has never been exposed to anyone like that.  Quite honestly, my contact with those kind of black people has been pretty limited, too.  This is why I really need to find some black mentors for the girls at some point.  In the meantime, I need to make a point to point out famous current and dead black people who made good choices (Condaleeza Rice, Dr. Ben Carson, Harriet Tubman,George Washington Carver, etc.)  Part of me still argues that color shouldn't matter, but it does matter to Lizzie and it's important that she not think that her life and opportunities are limited in any way because of the color of her skin.

 

*******************************

 

I got an invitation last night for a 50th anniversary celebration for a couple in our neighborhood.  The thing is, I know for a fact that the husband spoke to an attorney a few weeks ago about the possibility of obtaining a divorce. It doesn't sound like it's going to happen, but sigh...

 

****************************

When I came home Thursday night from orientation, David was in tears.  He had just watched, "Courageous" for the first time since before Paul died.  Oh, David...I love, love, love the Sherwood films, but I may never be able to watch them again.  So I had to deal with him a little bit.  Then, to my surprise, he whipped out the ipad and began furiously typing.  He takes after his mother more than he realizes...

 

This is what he wrote.  He said it was ok for me to put it on my blog:

 

We were made to be courageous"
Those are the lyrics to Casting Crowns song Courageous, I just listen to that song for the first time since my dad died... after I watched the movie Courageous.

At first I didn't know if I could but then I did.
Before I started it, I prayed to the Lord to help me get though the movie, and I did!

But of coarse this movie really made me think about my DAD, in this movie Adam (one of the main characters) his daughter died in a car crash. But that made him
really think of how great of a dad he was and what he could do to be better a dad for his son.

In which this case reminded me how DAD was always striving to be a better dad, every time he made a mistake he would come and apologize to us.
But then it made me think of much of a son I was to him... but that is what the devil is trying to make to think, and I know DAD was very proud of me and he was interested in me to see how I will grow.
I was different from him (in a good way) I had a more tender heart then DAD.

In the movie the chief of the police told everyone that most young people that end up in jail is because the dad left them or just didn't spend much time with them. I am sooooo glad that DAD did spend time with all of us. No matter if it was playing around with us, or teaching us stuff from working on the house.

The Lord called him home, I could be soooo upset, but I'm not, God called him home because he done everything the Lord wanted him to, I think part of what God wanted to teach us about God and he did that. Every time DAD tuck me in when I was little he would say "mommy daddy Jesus loves you", that was one thing DAD mainly taught us, that Jesus loves us.

So in conclusion DAD loved me and I love him. He was always striving to be a better DAD, and I say he succeeded

 

 

Be still, my heart...

 

Then, last night while I was at scrapbooking, David watched "Fireproof."  That is my all-time favorite movie, but I don't know that I will ever be able to watch it again.  Maybe sometime.  I don't know.

David wrote up a little something on that, too, I discovered later.  I don't know if he felt like he had to, as a companion piece to what he had done the night before, or if he just felt especially motivated.

 

"Love is not a fight but something worth fighting for."
That is a song I herd tonight while I watched fireproof, I haven't watch that movie since DAD died.

Now I'm not married, so it didn't bother me much. But it got me thinking about MOM & DAD.
No MOM and DAD didn't ever had a fight about getting divorce, but they did have a fight (not very often.) And plus they would of never have a fight about a divorce,  they were both saved when they got married.
No matter what happen with MOM & DAD they would know how to fix it.

I am soooo thankful God made them to be my parents! If they weren't my parents I don't know who what kind of a person I would be?

They were meant for each other!

So when my DAD died it was painful for me to see my MOM without a husband.
But since then my MOM has really grown spiritually and emotionally.

She has brought our family closer together. She was the first one who told me everything will be okay after my DAD died.
She is still ( and probably for awhile) facing challenges. But I do know that she is leaning on the Lord.

So in conclusion they were a great couple!
And they loved each other soooo much! And I am thankful for that! 

 

 

The part that really "got" me was where he talked about me being the first to assure him after Paul's death that things were going to be ok.  It must have been when I gathered the kids around that morning to tell them Paul had died.  I don't remember  all I said, other than it seemed to be Holy Spirit driven.  Nothing in my life had ever prepared me for that moment.

 

******************************

 

Last night a friend had a quote posted on her FB wall.  I don't know who said this, but boy, it resonated and I've thought it often today.

 

Don't mistake God's patience for God's absence

 

There have been times, especially lately, when it has seemed to be that God is silent when I feel like I need to hear from him.  That's frustrating to me.  But maybe what I'm really witnessing is God patiently working out his perfect plan in my life.

 

I can wait, knowing that.