And much of this downpour has been in the form of tears.
This month should have been one of the most exciting months of my life. New home, new season of life...abundant blessings. Instead, it has been fraught with pain and sadness. Oh, the joy is to come...of that I am sure...but these last few weeks have been one of the most stressful, painful seasons of my life.
My gall bladder surgery started the "downhill spiral." While I was in the hospital my Mom somehow tweaked her back and has been in horrible pain since. Her sciatic nerve is the offender, and so far her GP has been very little help. We are hoping that a trip to the chiropractor tomorrow will give her some sort of relief. In the meantime, she will continue to hobble with a walker...when she's able to walk at all.
And then there's my sweet Dad. Last Friday morning I went to a friend's baby shower and when I came home I immediately noticed that my Dad was just not himself--pale, somewhat lethargic, a bit clammy. I asked him if he was OK and he mumbled "I don't know what's wrong but I just don't feel well." A few minutes later he was sweating profusely and couldn't breathe and told me to call 911. I called, the paramedics arrived, hooked my Dad up to every machine in their arsenal and whisked him away to the hospital. My Mom was in a semi-comatose pain-induced state when I told her that the paramedics were on the way for Dad. I somehow managed to get her dressed while the paramedics were working on Dad and told her she needed to ride in the ambulance with Dad and I'd be there as soon as I could. Of course, she could barely walk to the ambulance. Thank God the paramedics showed compassion for her, as well, and helped her along.
After making a dozen phone calls to family and friends and figuring out what to do with my boys, I jumped in the van, drove to my brother in law and sister in law's house to drop off my kids, and got to the hospital as fast as the Friday afternoon traffic would allow. Mom, my brother and some of my parent's friends were in with Dad when I arrived. We learned that he did not have a heart attack but would be admitted to the hospital for monitoring and a battery of tests.
Fast forward to yesterday, Monday...Dad had an angiogram (heart catheterization process to assess the damage to his heart.) We expected some blockage, as he had had an angioplasty (procedure to open up arteries in his heart) about three years ago. However, this angiogram revealed major blockage and he is scheduled to have a five-way bypass (open heart surgery) on Friday. One of his arteries was 100 % blocked, another 85% blocked. He was a ticking time bomb and we are so grateful that he didn't sustain a heart attack, as it could likely have been fatal.
In light of all this chaos, Todd tried to see if I could stay in CA to help my parents and close on our house "by proxy." Unfortunately, more lead time is needed to make this legality work...so, against everything in my heart, we are scheduled to fly out to GA on Thursday morning, as planned. The original plan was to leave the kids here with my parents while we close and move in and then pick them up on October 7, but clearly Mom and Dad are in no position to take care of the boys. Todd is currently down South, but he will fly to Orange County tomorrow night, we will zip to the hospital to see my Dad, and then Todd and the boys and I will be on an 11 am flight to Atlanta on Thursday morning.
On Friday, while my Dad's heart is laid bare in surgery, we will be receiving the keys to our new home. It just feels wrong on so many levels. Conflicted doesn't even begin to describe how I'm feeling. But at the same time I KNOW God is in control and that HE has a plan. I believe that wholeheartedly. I'm grateful for the family and friends who are rallying around my parents in their time of need...but I so wish I could have a more "hands-on" role in their lives right now. Instead, I'll be on the other side of the country...praying unceasingly.
Dad has a long, eight week recovery ahead of him. No driving, no lifting, no much of anything except going to doctor appointment after doctor appointment. I will most likely fly back by myself and help them once Dad is home and healing. Hopefully Mom will be healed by then, as well.
Just recently, as in the past week or so, I heard the term "sandwich generation" for the first time. Adult children "sandwiched" between taking care of their young kids and their aging parents. I didn't think much about it at the time, but right now I am living it.
Peanut butter and jelly, anyone?
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Friday, September 16, 2011
"We Interrupt Your Regularly Scheduled Program For...
GALL BLADDER REMOVAL!"
Yep, it's a done deal. After a few months of no symptoms, my gall bladder decided to remind me that it was angry. Over the course of the last two weeks or so I had suffered four attacks that were increasingly worse. Then on Monday night the attack lasted longer than usual and was more intense than the last few. When the doctor's office opened at 8am Tuesday morning you better believe I was their very first call. My doctor told me to head to the ER and he'd meet me there. Bless him!
Thank the Lord for IV pain killers that took effect in a matter of minutes! After a few tests it was obvious that surgery needed to take place, but since my gall bladder wasn't in danger of rupturing I wasn't on the surgery schedule until the following day at noon. So I sat in bed painlessly...but ravenous! The last thing I had eaten was dinner on Monday night and I couldn't have any food or even water until after the surgery. Ugh!
Gratefully, Todd was in town for this whole ordeal. He was here for the weekend and due to fly back to Atlanta Tuesday morning...but he took me to the ER instead. He stayed by my side during the whole ordeal and brought me back to my parent's house yesterday afternoon after I was discharged. I am SO GRATEFUL the timing worked out as it did. God has a plan, that's for certain! Todd's on his way to Atlanta right now and the next time I see him will be when I fly out to meet him to close on our house in 13 days! I can't wait!
The surgeon said my gall bladder was riddled with infection and filled with gall stones that were too numerous to count. Ick!
But it's over, I'm healing, and hopeful that the coming days will be happy and healthy again.
Yep, it's a done deal. After a few months of no symptoms, my gall bladder decided to remind me that it was angry. Over the course of the last two weeks or so I had suffered four attacks that were increasingly worse. Then on Monday night the attack lasted longer than usual and was more intense than the last few. When the doctor's office opened at 8am Tuesday morning you better believe I was their very first call. My doctor told me to head to the ER and he'd meet me there. Bless him!
Thank the Lord for IV pain killers that took effect in a matter of minutes! After a few tests it was obvious that surgery needed to take place, but since my gall bladder wasn't in danger of rupturing I wasn't on the surgery schedule until the following day at noon. So I sat in bed painlessly...but ravenous! The last thing I had eaten was dinner on Monday night and I couldn't have any food or even water until after the surgery. Ugh!
Gratefully, Todd was in town for this whole ordeal. He was here for the weekend and due to fly back to Atlanta Tuesday morning...but he took me to the ER instead. He stayed by my side during the whole ordeal and brought me back to my parent's house yesterday afternoon after I was discharged. I am SO GRATEFUL the timing worked out as it did. God has a plan, that's for certain! Todd's on his way to Atlanta right now and the next time I see him will be when I fly out to meet him to close on our house in 13 days! I can't wait!
The surgeon said my gall bladder was riddled with infection and filled with gall stones that were too numerous to count. Ick!
But it's over, I'm healing, and hopeful that the coming days will be happy and healthy again.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Remembering 9/11
How could anyone who experienced it ever forget? That morning is etched in my mind as if it were yesterday. To think that it's been ten years since that fateful day seems unreal. So much has changed in our American story...but sadly, too much has also remained the same.
I was driving to work on Encinitas Boulevard when I heard the news. Jeff and Jer, my favorite local San Diego djs, interrupted their regular morning schtick to announce that a fiery plane crash had occurred in New York City. The details were few at that point, but it was clear that something went terribly, horribly wrong.
By the time I arrived at Horizon, the church where I worked in Rancho Santa Fe, the air was different. It was heavier, stiller, quieter...more solemn than a typical Tuesday morning in sunny San Diego. Our entire staff gathered in Pastor Bob's office around the TV, wondering what in the world had just happened and lifting our hearts to the Lord in prayer.
Like most other TV's in America, the TV in Pastor Bob's office was never turned off that day. Because my office was just outside of Pastor Bob's (I was his assistant at the time) and I had a clear view of the screen from where I sat, I was privy to the news reports as they broke. Everyone else slowly returned to their work, but I witnessed everything unfold like a horror movie right in front of my eyes. As new developments broke I was the herald to the others who were working down the hall and in other buildings. Being the bearer of bad news was...ugh! Unbearable.
When I got home that night my roommate was sitting on the couch still dressed in her pajamas with a plate of uneaten toast and a cup of cold coffee in front of her. Tears were streaming down her face. She hadn't moved since turning the TV on that morning.
Sue took the news especially hard. She had lived and worked in Washington DC for many years before moving to California. She's one of the most loyal patriots that I know. When her country was attacked her heart broke in two. It was personal for her on many levels and it was quite a while before I saw her smile again.
The following October I visited New York City for the first time. It's lively and loud and chaotic and oh so much fun--my favorite city I've ever visited, by far. But then there was this slap-me-in-the-face disconnect the second I got off the subway in Battery Park. Near the rubble of the World Trade Center there was a distinct other-worldly, very "anti-New York" vibe. The reverent hush. The slower footsteps. People treading on sacred ground. The posters, the crosses, the memorials...some brand new, others battered by the wind and rain for the last year...stopped me in my tracks. So many lives lost...and I was seeing them there on paper.
Ten years have passed and our country is still under attack. We may be physically safer due to increased security, but the emotional wounds our country has suffered will never completely heal. And frankly, they shouldn't. We should not deny but rather allow the pain of 9/11 to seep into our lives as a reminder of both our country's weaknesses and our country's remarkable resilience and strength.
I will never forget.
Will you remember?
I was driving to work on Encinitas Boulevard when I heard the news. Jeff and Jer, my favorite local San Diego djs, interrupted their regular morning schtick to announce that a fiery plane crash had occurred in New York City. The details were few at that point, but it was clear that something went terribly, horribly wrong.
By the time I arrived at Horizon, the church where I worked in Rancho Santa Fe, the air was different. It was heavier, stiller, quieter...more solemn than a typical Tuesday morning in sunny San Diego. Our entire staff gathered in Pastor Bob's office around the TV, wondering what in the world had just happened and lifting our hearts to the Lord in prayer.
Like most other TV's in America, the TV in Pastor Bob's office was never turned off that day. Because my office was just outside of Pastor Bob's (I was his assistant at the time) and I had a clear view of the screen from where I sat, I was privy to the news reports as they broke. Everyone else slowly returned to their work, but I witnessed everything unfold like a horror movie right in front of my eyes. As new developments broke I was the herald to the others who were working down the hall and in other buildings. Being the bearer of bad news was...ugh! Unbearable.
When I got home that night my roommate was sitting on the couch still dressed in her pajamas with a plate of uneaten toast and a cup of cold coffee in front of her. Tears were streaming down her face. She hadn't moved since turning the TV on that morning.
Sue took the news especially hard. She had lived and worked in Washington DC for many years before moving to California. She's one of the most loyal patriots that I know. When her country was attacked her heart broke in two. It was personal for her on many levels and it was quite a while before I saw her smile again.
The following October I visited New York City for the first time. It's lively and loud and chaotic and oh so much fun--my favorite city I've ever visited, by far. But then there was this slap-me-in-the-face disconnect the second I got off the subway in Battery Park. Near the rubble of the World Trade Center there was a distinct other-worldly, very "anti-New York" vibe. The reverent hush. The slower footsteps. People treading on sacred ground. The posters, the crosses, the memorials...some brand new, others battered by the wind and rain for the last year...stopped me in my tracks. So many lives lost...and I was seeing them there on paper.
Ten years have passed and our country is still under attack. We may be physically safer due to increased security, but the emotional wounds our country has suffered will never completely heal. And frankly, they shouldn't. We should not deny but rather allow the pain of 9/11 to seep into our lives as a reminder of both our country's weaknesses and our country's remarkable resilience and strength.
I will never forget.
Will you remember?
Sunday, September 4, 2011
House Update!
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| The dining room. I have visions of many shades of aqua in this room! |
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| Kids play room! |
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| Todd's office--I swoon over the coffered ceilings! |
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| Kitchen and pantry |
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| Great room with built ins! |
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| Front door on left. Todd's office is behind the french doors. |
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| Master bedroom with sitting nook! Lots of books will be read in that sweet space! Our home is coming along and we are so excited to be in it later this month! There's still a good deal to be completed, but it is looking much more like a place that is ready to be occupied. It's crazy how quickly they can get things done! Todd drives out to see the progress each weekend and then sends me tons of pictures. It's not quite like being there, but it's the next best thing! We are scheduled to close on the 30th and will have it painted the next two days while Todd and I shop for appliances, window treatments and furniture. The movers should come on October 1 and we hope to get as much put away and "settled" as we can before returning to pick up the kids in CA later that week. It's going to be a whirlwind but I am excited beyond measure! |
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Sweet September
This is the month I've been anxiously waiting for and I'm so thrilled it's finally here! This month we are moving into our new home and we get to be together as a family again! This month marks the beginning of the newest chapter of our lives and the start of a brand new adventure! To say I'm excited and anticipating wonderful things is a true understatement.
I have always loved the month of September. Even though fall doesn't "officially" begin until later in the month, as of the first of September fall is here, in my little world. September signifies newness to me, much like the month of January. When school bells ring for the first time my mind spins with the possibilities inherent in a new year of learning. Much like the adorable Kathleen Kelly, I am wistful thinking of bouquets of newly sharpened pencils.
In September the colors in my mind bleed from cool crisp blue to warm rich orange, practically overnight. I fight the urge to pull out my sweaters, cords and boots. Although the calendar page reads September, the thermometer still reads a summery 85 degrees. How's that for cognitive dissonance?
To me, summer is for playing hard and fall is for working hard. And working hard at making our house a home filled with meaning and memories is what I long for. I am excited to usher in this season of...
I have always loved the month of September. Even though fall doesn't "officially" begin until later in the month, as of the first of September fall is here, in my little world. September signifies newness to me, much like the month of January. When school bells ring for the first time my mind spins with the possibilities inherent in a new year of learning. Much like the adorable Kathleen Kelly, I am wistful thinking of bouquets of newly sharpened pencils.
In September the colors in my mind bleed from cool crisp blue to warm rich orange, practically overnight. I fight the urge to pull out my sweaters, cords and boots. Although the calendar page reads September, the thermometer still reads a summery 85 degrees. How's that for cognitive dissonance?
To me, summer is for playing hard and fall is for working hard. And working hard at making our house a home filled with meaning and memories is what I long for. I am excited to usher in this season of...
- school buses and backpacks
- sweaters, scarves and boots
- pumpkins, gourds and falling leaves
- flannel sheets and down comforters
- MOPS and new women's Bible Studies at church
- cool nights and breezy days
- new friends in new neighborhoods
- Sunday afternoon football
- "seasonal drinks" at Starbucks
- crockpots
- glowing fireplaces
- rain, glorious rain
- homemade muffins, breads and soups
- reflecting upon and celebrating the bounty of God's blessings this Thanksgiving
What, if anything, does September signify to you?
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