the wrong day to go back to church

I've been handling the loss of my dad quite well other than being exhausted. Well, no, I haven't been handling it at all. Our trip home for the memorial service was so much fun and so refreshing -- being at Bible Camp where we have so many great memories, seeing friends and family members, eating clam chowder, seeing the beach...

And then on the way home I was just plain exhausted. I felt a little grief mixed with annoyance and relief -- but mostly exhaustion.

But I didn't want to answer the "how are you" question fifty times, so I avoided our usual church service on Saturday and went to church today, completely forgetting that it was Mother's Day.

I waited four years for my first living child and I did not cope well with that waiting. During that time, I lost two babies as well as my own mother. So Mother's Day still carries a whole lot of baggage, and I hate the Mother's Day sermons. I think about how hurt the infertile ladies can be on Mother's Day, and the grieving daughters too.

So today was completely the wrong day to go back to church, being suddenly conscious that I am parentless. I concentrated on NOT crumpling up my bulletin and throwing it across the room, but eventually that was not enough to keep me from crying so I hid in the bathroom for awhile.

This afternoon a nap has lifted my mood a bit.

Remembering Dad

(I'll share this at my dad's memorial service)

I remember my dad enjoying life. I remember him coming home from work at lunch time and announcing that he'd suddenly decided to take the afternoon off. Sometimes he spent those afternoons working in the yard, but other times we did fun things—like drive to Olympia to see the cherry trees in bloom around the Capitol.

My dad enjoyed food; he made the best sourdough pancakes, and once in awhile I could talk him into making biscuits for an evening snack.

Dessert was my dad's favorite food group. I remember my grandparents visiting our home when I was little, and my mother being appalled when my dad told me to greet Grandma with the words: “Did you bring a pie?”

My dad also taught me practical things. He opened a checking account for me when I was in fourth grade and he helped me balance it every month until I could do it myself.

Dad appreciated beauty—the beauty of nature as well as the beauty of fine china. Before he was married, he traveled across Canada several times, collecting Minton and Royal Albert for himself and for friends and relatives.

Dad had a talent for remembering dates—birth dates, death dates, and anniversaries. I remember him smiling across the breakfast table at my mom and reminding her that it was the anniversary of their first date. In fact, the day after Dad's death was the thirty-fifth anniversary of that first date.

You all know how much my dad loved music. It was his ministry, but it was also his stress relief; after a long day at the office, he'd come home and play through the hymnal for an hour.

Before my dad left for work each morning, Dad read a chapter of the Bible to Mom and I, and we would pray together. We each had a prayer list so that over the course of a week we prayed for all our friends and family.

My dad valued his family and his heritage. His pioneer grandfather told him that “a fool knows enough to carry an umbrella when it's raining, but a wise man takes his umbrella when the sun is shining.” I remember Dad walking to work every day, carrying his black umbrella—rain or shine.
Dad inherited a bit of the pioneer spirit from his grandparents. When homeschooling became legal in 1984, Dad saw this as our opportunity to to be pioneers, helping to secure this privilege for the next generation. I didn't know that this “next generation” my dad spoke of would be my own daughters.

My dad loved his grandchildren. Our oldest daughter was born at 3:05 on an October morning six years ago. My husband called my dad to tell him about the birth and to ask him to wait an hour before visiting us at the hospital. My dad walked through the door at exactly 4:05.

I'd like to pass on a bit of practical advice from my dad: when two desserts are offered, never make a choice between them—always have a bit of both.

Dad's Homegoing

On Tuesday my father entered his heavenly home. I am so very happy to think of him being reunited with my mother.

I will have much to blog, but I am taking a break for a few days.

Dad's health continues to decline

He's back in the hospital. Pneumonia. Two more broken ribs and a broken shoulder bone. He'll be there at least 3 days, and then he'll go to a Care Center for 3 weeks. I talked to him tonight -- he asked a nurse to call me. He hardly spoke; he listened to me, and replied to my questions very slowly.

It's hard to believe that a year ago he drove himself the thousand miles to our house.

Dad. Stress. Again.

Oh dear...my dad is requiring more care in his new assisted living center than he did at the previous.

And they didn't tell me that some charges like laundry were not included in the base price.

I don't know how long he can continue to live there, he probably needs a nursing home....of course he can't afford that, so we may have to put him on medicaid....

I was finally feeling calm about this. I wasn't stressing about his financial stuff. And now this. Still a thousand miles from him and absolutely uninformed about care for the elderly.

My husband is bringing Mexican food for me and I'm going to sit on the couch tonight and watch the Avengers.

I'll think about this tomorrow....

a hiccup in my dad's move

My Dad was supposed to move from one assisted living center to another this weekend. Ten days ago, the administrator of the new place said the room would be ready today and he could move in.

Friends packed his stuff in a uhaul and drove the four hours to the new place...only to be told that the administrator isn't there today, the room isn't clean, and they won't admit him without an assessment.

Meanwhile he's all checked out of the previous place and was halfway between the two when we heard the news! Thankfully, there are friends in the new area that my dad can stay with for a couple days.

I was sick with stress when I first heard about this hiccup, but I realized the stress wasn't my burden to carry. I remembered a line from Amy Carmichael's writings: "If precious to you, how much more precious to Him?"

waiting to board the plane

I'm at the Portland Airport, waiting to board my plane back to the desert in just a few moments. It's been almost a week since I saw my husband and my kids. I miss them -- and I miss my husband's cooking!

It's been emotionally exhausting and I am so happy to be on this final leg of the journey.

The Lord has continuously reminded me that my identity as His child and His beloved has not changed -- even as my role with my father changes, and as I have been missing my beloved husband so very much!

I want to give a big compliment to Enterprise Rent a Car. The friendliness of their staff is admirable. And when I pulled up to their return center today, a staff member opened my car door, called me by name, and handed me a receipt. Nothing to sign, no fumbling for my own papers about the rental, just thanks for my business, and simple directions to the terminal.

one more day...

Tomorrow I get to go home!!!!! I am more than ready. I miss my husband so very much...and of course my kids too.

Today I had financial errands to run, and I took my dad to lunch. After looking for a restaurant he recommended...which he told me was in a different town than its actual location...we finally found it. We walked through the doors and I suddenly realized I'd been there before. When I was pregnant with Faith, my husband and I had met some of his coworkers there. It is a smoky place filled with the odors of years of fried food. I would advise pregnant women to stay far far away from this restaurant!

My dad and I both ordered salads...which took half an hour to arrive...and mine was a really crummy salad!

I met my aunt for a snack a little later and I had a better salad with her.

I did not sleep well last night. The stress of taking over my dad's financial affairs, interacting with this man who no longer seems very much like my dad, being away from my husband, and driving for eight hours yesterday has left me weak and mush-brained.

a trip home

What a long day! I drove to Smalltown on the Washington coast, and its neighboring town of Hickville. Neither of these towns has been economically prosperous for years, and it looks as if nothing has changed. I had to visit some credit unions to withdraw money for my dad's care, and I visited his new assisted living center. They'll have a room for him in a couple weeks. Although it's in Hickville, it is a pleasant place with a caring environment, and I think he will be very happy here. I know he will find that he knows many of the residents.

(Okay, of course...those aren't the real names of those towns. But if you saw them you'd understand.)

I did find a decent cup of chowder at a riverside Seafood market. Not the most fabulous chowder I've ever eaten (that was in Ireland...) but better than we find in our desert metropolis.

I was able to put aside the stress...part of the time...and just enjoy the green hillsides and the trees and the clouds.

My dad sent me on a bit of a wild goose chase; he really wanted me to visit my mom's friend who is in a nursing home. He called me this morning to tell me that this friend was not doing well and not expected to live. He didn't want me to be shocked by her frail appearance. I thought this was extremely thoughtful of him to tell me this...but he left out one important detail.

I went to the nursing home. They said she was no longer there but she might be at the hospital. I drove to the hospital, and hesitated for a moment outside as I realized that not only was this my birthplace but also the place my mom died. In fact I had not visited that particular hospital since the last time I saw my mom. I asked the front desk attendant and they did not have my mom's friend on their patient list. This was not a wasted trip though, because from the hospital parking lot (built on a hill), there's a beautiful panoramic view of Smalltown and Hickville and the hills and the Harbor surrounding them. The clouds were particularly lovely this afternoon, and it was a great reminder that though my hometown looks a bit ragged, it was a beautiful place to grow up.

Tonight I called my dad when I reached Salem, and he said, "Oh, your mom's friend isn't in Smalltown anymore, she's in Olympia." That's an hour away from Smalltown and I was nowhere near there today!

I had tea with a friend who lives near Hickville: a refreshing break.

So....a very long exhausting day full of driving and memories and beautiful scenery.

very weak and weary indeed

A friend and I did a lot of sorting at my dad's house today.
A bit of Royal Albert china, a lot of junk.
Overwhelming.
20 credit cards.
A debt total that is unbelievable.
Tomorrow I have to drive to my dad's hometown, four hours each way....
and I'm not used to driving more than 25 minutes from home.
So many details, so many burdens.
I pray the prayer of St. Patrick often
("Christ as a light, illumine and guide me,
Christ as a shield overshadow me;
Christ over me, Christ under me,
Christ beside me on my left and my right....")
because I need illumination,
shielding,
and the surrounding presence of God.

off to Salem

This afternoon I got a rental car and drove to Salem. My dad is currently in an assisted living center not far away. I'm staying with my husband's aunt and her family. Their home is always a pleasant and refreshing place.

I saw my dad for a little while this evening; it was the first time I'd seen him since last July. Our plan is to move him to an assisted living center in his home town. Well, a little town next to his home town to be specific. He would rather go back to his house near Salem, but that is not possible anymore. An assisted living center near all his friends back home is the only thing that convinced him to stay in an assisted living situation.

an adventure begins

We all rose early and left the house at 5 a.m. My family dropped me off at the airport, and I left the desert to fly to Seattle. I've flown into Portland several times, and it was my destination today, but AlaskaAir's flight schedule did not have a direct flight to Portland today. The flight was lovely, with lots of snowy mountains below. And flying into Seattle is far more beautiful than flying into Portland--views of the Olympics, the ferryboats on Puget Sound, Mt. Rainier, and the Cascade Mountains.

My seat was next to the window. On my right was a young Asian man, focused on his laptop and his Ipod. Next to him was a young blonde guy, also focused on his laptop and Ipod. As I also used these two items during the flight, I felt part of the young hip technological crowd. The two young guys fell asleep on their laptops and I envied their ability to sleep on an airplane. When we landed in Seattle, the blonde guy called someone on his cell phone; someone who was going to be meeting him at the airport. He kept saying, "Just look for the guy in a camo jacket wearing combat boots and carrying a violin." This was such an odd combination, but I was puzzled when he ended the conversation with "See you in a few minutes, Mom." Why wasn't his mom going to recognize him?

In the row behind me sat a woman carrying a dog. It was securely zipped into a soft carrier, but I heard it occasionally. Next to the dog-carrying woman was a very young woman, eighteen at the oldest, who had been wearing quite a lot of mascara but most of it was now on her skin because she had been crying. Apparently she was flying standby and almost didn't get to board the plane. I heard her repeat over and over, "I just want to get home to see my baby; he's 2 months old. They almost didn't let me on the plane. I just want to see my baby." Of course I don't know the rest of the story, but it was heartbreaking to listen to her. She seemed to strike up a conversation with the dog lady who helped calm her down a little. I've been praying for her today, and for her baby son.

My best friend's mother in law picked me up at the Seattle airport and we met my best friend in Tacoma. We carpooled with several other ladies to Portland for a women's retreat hosted by my best friend's church. A retreat seemed the best way to fuel up for what promises to be a rather draining week.

We're staying at a Marriott Residence Inn. I attended the first session of the women's retreat tonight. My mind drifted in and out, worrying about interacting with my dad this week, and hearing some of the speaker's words. The theme this week is Identity.

It is refreshing to be with my best friend....we've walked together through so many life experiences, living several states apart most of the last twenty years, but retaining our close friendship.

more dad stress

Today I had the "you need to stay in your assisted living apartment" conversation with my dad. I thought he had already decided to stay there...in fact he told me he had a couple weeks ago...but now he doesn't remember that, and he is not happy.

Thankfully, he did not get angry with me, he was calm, but so depressed by the idea.

I do not handle these serious conversations well, but I knew I had to get it said over the phone before I was actually there. I am still shaking. It's hard to use the mouse when you're shaking. I used to be able to diffuse angry customers when I was a working woman, but I have become a wimp.

I was smart today though...I made the call from the bathtub. Really helped me stay calm. Although the shaking could have caused the demise of my phone, thankfully I did not drop it.