Living The Life Of Riley

It’s four days post-Christmas, and I am already in my New Year’s Nesting Mode. I want to ring in 2010 with a fresh, organized home. Out with the stale fudge, old toys and chaos! Junk- Be gone! I am ruthless in my quest for a de-cluttered home. I’ve taken down all holiday decor minus the tree, which my kids won’t let me touch yet.

Butterfly’s boyfriend is coming for a week-long visit, and he’ll arrive here tonight from OH. I am planning on having him move into Little Squirt’s bedroom. So Super Hubs and I have been de-junking on behalf of our youngest, The King of Clutter. We’ve cleared away some of his old and unwanted toys to make room for his new stash of goods. We’ve organized his closet, in hopes to make room for The Boyfriend to store his clothes.

Is The King of Clutter grateful to His Royal Servant-Parentals, who have transformed his bedroom into a sparkling, shiny abode? It’s hard to tell. He hasn’t had enough time in between bites of Christmas licorice to actually thank us. And he’s been intensely industrious, playing his new Wii Band Hero for four hours stretches, which he says, makes his back hurt. So then he needs time to relax in my shiatsu massage cushion, before going back to another stretch of Wii and sweets gorge-festing.

Oh, to be seven again! Why didn't we know to enjoy it while we could??

Loss And Gratitude

Simply put: It’s been a week. It’s been a week of great losses, airline frustrations, Christmas celebrations, and sheer exhaustion.

The great Northeast Blizzard of ‘09 arrived as an unwanted guest, and completely disrupted my father-in-law’s funeral plans. Several close relatives had to miss the wake, including my husband's brother. Our flight to NY was delayed by a day, causing us to arrive at my mother-in-law’s house with just a few hours to spare until the wake. We were so tired we could hardly see straight.

And at the cemetery for the interment, my mother-in-law’s brother suddenly felt ill, and a few hours later, was dead from a torn aorta, causing great ripples of shock and grief to us all. He had just been sitting behind us at the funeral, mourning with the family over Dad’s death. Now he, too, will be buried this very week. The losses, so close together and right before Christmas, of two great family patriarchs, has been almost too much to bear.

There have been a few bright lights flashing in the darkness, like fireflies darting about at midnight, that have been life-giving to our souls during the craziness of this week. Participating in our church’s Christmas services was one of those “lights.” It was good, so good for my husband and I. The 3-hour rehearsals, delicious meals and conversations in the Green Room, and publicly proclaiming scripture before hundreds; that was a timely gift from God.

And I will forever be thankful for the love of our friends. It mattered. Showing up mattered deeply. They were Angels sent from Heaven, serving us so beautifully and thoughtfully, and healing the pain in our hearts. They let me “shop” in their closet for funeral clothes, brought us meals when I was too overwhelmed to cook, sent us flowers and cards, dropped off treats and watched our kids while we traveled. They gave me a safe space to vent frustrations, be sad, and process. They gave me wine, sent flowers to the funeral home, or simply told us they were praying.

It’s been an education in Bereavement Sociology. It really has. And here’s what I learned about grief and healing: Acknowledgment by others matters. It really does. It mattered to have people offer a hug and look me in the eyes and say, “I’m sorry for your loss.” It wasn’t awkward. It made me feel less alone. I needed that.

Having a husband who lives a lifestyle of serving others so selflessly, I was moved to see some of his men-friends surround him and serve him back. For those friends who took him to lunch and breakfast, who called and texted him words of encouragement throughout our weekend to NY, who showed up for him, supported him and loved on him, I will always be grateful. I saw my husband gain strength and stand taller after each loving interaction. He would not have been able to give such a beautiful, moving Eulogy at his father’s funeral, without the loving support of his friends. I truly believe that.

Friends, and you know who you are, you have been Jesus’ hands and feet to our family. And we are grateful.

Merry Christmas!

"In Him was life, and the life was the light of all people. And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen His glory." (John1:1-14)

To all my Reader Friends,
Wishing you and yours the love of Christ.

Merry Christmas!

Dad

My father-in-law died early yesterday morning; peacefully, unobtrusively, much like he lived his life. His wife of 47 years held his hand as he passed on into Heaven. I know he’s in Heaven, because, after I heard the news, I took my coffee into my library, and gazed at the eastern sky. I’ve watched the sun rise all week, and this one had the most brilliant display of color. God spoke to my heart, “He’s home with me now.”

On our wedding day, my father-in-law told me I could call him “Dad.” I continued to call him “Mr. Murphy" for a few months, which morphed into “Ken,” and eventually “Dad.”

Dad was a good man. He lived a life of integrity and honor. He was wise; never making selfish, regretful mistakes that hurt others. He loved his wife completely, treating her as a precious gift throughout their entire marriage. I am forever grateful for that legacy, because that is the kind of love my husband has for me.

He was a hard worker and good provider for his family, never complaining about the long hours of his week. He did what needed to be done. He raised 4 awesome children, educating them in private schools and helping them out with college tuition. He loved God and served faithfully in his church community.

He never understood the parenting culture of today, which he viewed as raising entitled, lazy children who complain if they have to walk to school, and expect a trophy for every sport played. He once told us we ought to take our (then 8-year-old) Rock Star into the Forest Preserve. We should leave him there alone with just his bike, and expect him to find his way home on his own. He believed that act would encourage a courageous, “can-do” spirit within our son. “Dad!” we said in exasperation. “That would be considered Child Neglect. We’d get arrested!”

Dad was an encouraging voice in our lives. He told Super Hubs and me that he was proud of us, admired our values and the way we lived our lives; words I had longed to hear from my own father, who was never able to give me verbal love.

Dad was one of the most well-read, interesting people I’ve ever known. He knew everything about everything, and he was well-traveled. Random facts about birds and trees and architecture flowed from his lips and into our heads. He loved food, and knew the perfect wine to go with each meal. He gave Rock Star a bird feeder, and they’d bird-watch "together," even though Dad lived 400 miles away. He gave Butterfly her first Barbie when she was a baby. Sadly, Little Squirt only knew him as “Grandpa Who Cannot Walk or Talk.” His Alzheimer’s was advanced by the time my youngest was born, and he lived in a nursing home for the last 5 years.

“Why couldn’t God and Jesus let him be with us for longer?” asked Little Squirt yesterday, when I held him on my lap and told him of his grandfather’s passing.
“I think maybe God wanted him to go to Heaven for Christmas,” I said. “And now he won’t suffer anymore. He has a perfect, new body that can walk and talk again.”
“But why did God let him suffer?” he said, wide-eyed.
The Question. The Big Question we all wonder, shaking our fists toward the skies.

Why did God keep Dad living for most of his 60’s, trapped in a declining body with a deteriorating brain? Perhaps because it was for our benefit, that more of Christ would be formed in us. There were lessons we needed to learn. We needed to learn, from watching Dad suffer, how to give selflessly. How to advocate for him to the nursing home staff in an assertive, but loving way. How to grasp each moment of life as a gift, because we don’t know how long we have with each other. And, from watching Mom patiently shave his face, rub lotion on his hands, plump his pillows, and care for his needs, we learned unconditional love. We learned that marriage really is “for better or worse.” And even though the past decade brought a lot of “worse,” Mom relished the time she was able to love on our Dad, as he had done for her throughout their marriage.

“For me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me. Yet what do I choose? I do not know! I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body.” (Phil.1:21-24)

I am grateful we were able to say our “good-byes” at Thanksgiving. And, even though I grieve with my family, my heart is thrilled that Dad will spend this holiday in a place where he will suffer no more. It'll be a bittersweet Christmas.

Love you, Dad! Thanks for everything!

Apocalypse? I'm Ready!

My grandmother used to stockpile beauty supplies. When I’d visit her home, I’d find a multitude of jars of Noxema, and hoards of her beloved Facial Oil Blotter packs. Her dresser drawer was packed with her favorite Muguet. I believed she was preparing for a sudden event of Apocalyptic nature, when getting out to shop would be difficult, and at least she’d face the forces of evil with a fresh, oil-free complexion and reeking of LiIy-of-The-Valley.

My dad has also bought in bulk for years, way before Costco shopping became all the rage. My mom would stealthily bring me bags full of toothpaste and toilet paper, imploring me not to tell my father. “Good Lord-I don’t know where he expects us to store these things!”

I attributed the compulsive buying of my relatives to, simply, aging. But now I notice I am beginning to engage in the same behavior. And it is starting to make sense to me. Every time I shop I pick up another bottle of my favorite hand cream. My appendages would not survive the brutal winter without it! You can never have enough tubes of tooth paste stored under your bathroom sink, and I’m certain my dentist would approve. And the Carmex lip balm I apply before bed- what if, God forbid, I were to run out?? I’d have to face my pillow with than dewy-less lips! That cannot be!!

I’m starting to scare myself.

Cool Men Tap

Little Squirt is in our church’s “Where Is Christmas?” Christmas show, with 5 performances this weekend. He’s had 3 hour rehearsals all week, and he's enjoying every minute. It’s an awesome show, with a very talented cast of teens and young adults singing and dancing.

Little Squirt is in the children’s choir, and was required to wear black pants. So, in addition to the black pants, I purchased his first pair of black “dress” shoes. I presented them to him the other day after school.

“Tap shoes!!” he said joyfully.
“No, these aren’t tap shoes. They’re just black dress shoes to wear for your performance,” I explained.

He quickly put them on, and then did an impromptu step-shuffle-hop-step and step-ball change. He’s never had a dance lesson in his life. “See, Mom? They’re tap shoes!” he said merrily, and shuffled up the stairs.

Should I be worried?

Santa Uses Aveda Products

I went to a Christmas party to beat all other Christmas parties the other evening! It was at Spa Bleu, where I have previously made a name for myself as Most Ignorant Customer. But, not one to be daunted by humiliation, I went anyway, with two girlfriends.

Party-Goers were treated to a variety of Spa Experiences using Aveda products. I was given a 15-minute chair massage, a scalp massage, and 3 hand massages, prior to and after a Caribbean Hand Treatment. My appendages have never been so silky-smooth! A Makeup Demo erased years from my face (or so they told me). And, after participating in a “Tour of the Senses,” I was handed a gift of a little bottle of perfume in my fav-pick scent, called Water.

My girlfriends had facials, and, while I waited for them, I snacked on sushi, and engaged in a wine tasting. The evening was rhapsody! We left in a delirium of Scent And Peaceful Relaxation.

It was a study of Marketing Brilliance! I ended up buying their Aveda Plum lip gloss, and a bunch of other products I had no idea I’d needed. I’m also going to call and book another Full-Body Massage. And this time, I won’t be a dim-wit.

Slowing Down

“You need to relax. You have trouble relaxing.” Words from God through spoken through the mouth of a Massage Therapist. So true! I am not relaxed, even when I am relaxing.

I went on a 24-hour Silent Advent Retreat this week with a friend. That’s right. Me. Sans words. (Please stop laughing.) I wasn’t premitted to utter a sound, even when I went to bed and found a spider on my pillow. I quietly shuddered, then flicked it out into the hall. That was huge for me, as I find spiders repulsive and terrifying. Be proud of my courageousness!

The point of the Retreat was to create space for us to engage in the spiritual practice of silence and solitude. It allowed me to hear from God as all the noise in my life quieted down. I payed attention to the voice of my Maker.

I thoroughly enjoyed it all. I sat in a cozy rocking chair in front of a picturesque window, watching the snow gently fall on the evergreens. I devoured two books I’d been wanting to finish, swept clean some attitudes and resentments in my heart, journaled, and did a little Life Mapping, considering what God might be inviting me to do next in my life.

I had one of the most wonderful massages ever, in which I was completely ministered to, body and soul, and told the words above, through a cloud of lavender lotion. It leads me to ponder this week: How can I slow down and learn to relax?

One of the highlights of the retreat for me was watching the sunrise. It was not a spectacular display of colors, and I was a bit disappointed. It was a gradual awakening of the earth with light. Quietly, gently, and subtly. God spoke to me, "That's how I came to earth. Like the start of this day." As I watched and listened, I wrote these words about Immanuel:

God is with us! He, who created the vast universe, and set the sun and moon in the sky, left the perfection of Heaven to come be with us! He came without fanfare; quietly and humbly, unnoticed except by the few who were paying attention; a tiny baby born in a stable who would grow up to be our Redeemer. His coming blanketed the darkness with light, and turned the world upside down.

And now He lives with us because He cherishes us. His constant presence can be as clear and vibrant as a brilliant sunrise, or as gentle as a ripple on a lake. He is our daily guide and constant companion, our strength and comfort, our righter of wrongs, and the peace we feel in our hearts. Rejoice....rejoice! Jesus has entered the world and filled it with His presence!

As my friend and I drove away from the Retreat House, we stopped the car to watch three deer peacefully browsing in the snow, unhurried. Hmmm....the perfect metaphor to conclude our time.

Thanks-Giving

We spent Thanksgiving with in my mother-in-law’s beautiful Connecticut home. Mom is an artist by profession, and her creative juices flow in the kitchen. She is a fabulous, inspired cook. I have no idea when she made all her elaborate preparations. I awoke to the smell of a roasting turkey, and the fridge was filled with delectable dishes.

It was a feast for the eyes as well as the tummy. She set her dining room table with a centerpiece of candles and fresh pears. The appetizers of shrimp cocktail and marinated shredded carrots in a proscuitto wrap perched on her best china. Homemade cranberry sauce nestled in little bowls of real blood-red oranges. Everything was scrumptious! Quite honestly, Mom is the Queen of Cuisine and needs her own show on the Food Network. She really does. She is my Hospitality Goddess.

In the midst of our gorge-festing, we took a couple hours off to go and visit Dad. He has spent the better part of his 60s living in a nursing home. Alzheimers is a thief who has robbed him of memories, intelligence, and the ability to particpate in activies of daily living. It came unannouced and uninvited almost 10 years ago, and stole many wonderful years from him. It turned Dad from an intelligent, interesting, independent gentleman who embraced life into an infant who depends on caregivers for his every need. But it couldn’t steal his spirit. The sweet, kind, gentle essence of who Dad is still remains. I can sense it.

Over the past year, Dad’s health and mental status has rapidly declined. He is forgetting how to eat, and Mom has made the prayerful decision that they won’t feed him by artificial means. At the point when Dad officially stops eating, they will allow his body to gently shut down and die. Mom is a Hospital Chaplain, and she knows what she’s doing. She has had a front seat to many a death.

So we’ve been grieving Dad’s immiment death for a while. And whenever we visit their Connecticut home, there’s a sense of loss. Dad’s presence is missed greatly. His favorite chair where he sat reading his history books remains empty. The stereo that would produce soothing classical music of his choosing is quiet. I miss watching him proudly choose the dinner wine, with his interesting trivia about its grape and vineyard. I valued his thoughtful event-planning for his grandchildren. He filled their trips to visit him with much hoopla. There are holes in our hearts, and we all felt a sense of heaviness over the holiday.

But there were treasures in the darkness. Dad has not shown any recognition of anyone for months on end. So when we entered his nursing home, we expected vacant eyes in his invalid body. It had been almost two years since we last saw him. Super Hubs walked into the room with Little Squirt. Together, they entered Dad’s line of vision and spoke to him. He started, made eye contact with his son and grandson, and his face lit up into a hug smile. And then he laughed!

The recognition lasted for just a moment, but it was a gift. He remembered his son and his grandson. Deep in the recesses of his impaired memory, he knew he loved them.

Super Hubs prayed a blessing over his father, knowing it will be the last time he will see him. And then we left, giving thanks.