I promise this is the last post about my trip!

When one of my close friends first heard that I'd decided to go to Houston, she wrote me a message.  She said, "I am praying that you go on the trip with great joy and peace.  Remember, even though I know your decisions bounce you back and forth from guilt to guilt, I was thinking how important it is for parents to have their kids come home.  Your responsibilities here will still be waiting when you get back.  Life is a series of moments...that was in a poem I read this week...and the moments you have to focus on your parents and brothers are so few and far between."
Even though it was extremely difficult to leave my guys, they somehow managed to survive without me. Ha.  Eli was not at all amused when I first told him of my plans, and didn't understand why I would go without him.  Somewhere along the way, he must have come to terms with the idea.  When I tried changing my mind at the last minute, he said, "Mom, you told me you needed this...and you do!"  I did receive several tearful phone calls the first couple days.  One time he informed me that he'd "cried for an hour and 31 minutes until he literally ran out of tears".
Jason was very supportive of my plans.  He assured me they would be fine, and that I should enjoy the time with my family.  When I told him my sister would be staying with them, he gestured around our bedroom and said, "As long as she realizes this is my domain, we'll get along just fine." Ha.  On Tuesday morning he was still in bed when my sister told him that she and Eli were leaving to pick me up at the airport, and would be back soon.  The next thing she knew, he was fully dressed and following them out the door.  I was thrilled to see my little family walking towards me at the airport.  I am truly blessed.

My Cup Runneth Over

My mind is fairly spinning thinking about the blessings I've received over the past several days.  I am so thankful for the unwavering encouragement from family and friends.  I am constantly in awe of the outpouring of love that I receive.
I keep wondering when my sister will tire of coming to my rescue.  I didn't even realize I was in need of being saved this time.  She must have sensed a quiet despair growing within me.  Not only did she orchestrate my escape, she stepped in and took my place while I was gone.  She gave Jason insulin shots like a pro and distracted a sad little boy.  I will forever be grateful she insisted I make this trip.
While I was in Houston, I was amazed to hear that the cost of my buddy pass airline ticket had been covered.  My sister told me that several friends from church had contributed towards this.  Even when she told people she had enough, they continued to hand her money.  She used part of the extra money to fill our car with gas.  Today she brought me a book I'd asked her to pick up at the library for me.  Whenever we talked on the phone this afternoon, she kept asking if I'd had a chance to read yet.  Finally, when my friend Jennie came over tonight, she discovered the rest of the collected money tucked away inside the book!  While I was gone, another friend treated Jason and Eli to a yummy lunch from McAlister's Deli.  Two other friends also took a delighted Eli on a miniature golf outing.
My sister asked friends to write me encouraging notes so I could read them on my return flight.  During those first anxious moments after takeoff, these beautiful words soothed me.  I've received more notes since I've gotten home.  I plan to read these during difficult times, and will treasure them.
When I got home on Tuesday, I found a marvelous surprise waiting for me.  Because our apartment is rather small, the computer is set up in our laundry/storage room.  My sister had spent hours transforming this area into a beautiful writing niche for me.  She organized the storage items and hid them behind curtains.  My friend Jennie purchased the curtains, a bulletin board, inspirational plaques, pretty storage bins, and antique writing supplies to decorate the top of my desk.  I now have my own special getaway right in the comfort of my home!
One of the notes I received said, "I pray God will refill your cup until it continually runneth over."  God consistently shows His love for me through the kindness and generosity of those around me.  I am truly grateful.

"And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony."  (Colossians 3:14)

Above The Clouds

I am not a fan of flying.  I hadn't flown in almost ten years, so was dreading my flight.  I'm fairly certain the airport personnel I encountered in Kansas City sensed I was not exactly a seasoned flier.  At the security gate, I informed my sister that I could not get on the plane after all.  Somehow she finally persuaded me to move onward.  My wobbly legs carried me to the door where I managed to show a woman my driver's license.  I proudly remembered to take off my shoes and place them in a bin on the conveyor belt.  I set one of my carry-on bags there as well.  I then proceeded to wheel my other bag through the metal detector.  The security officer patiently instructed me to put it with my other things.  I was startled when I beeped while strolling through the metal detector.  He noticed my silver bracelet, and kindly asked me to remove it.  When I beeped on my second time through, I wondered aloud if my belt might be the problem.  I must give the man credit for how calmly he replied, "Does it have metal on it?  It is a METAL detector."  Duh.
When Eli and I had been discussing flying, he seemed alarmed to discover that I would be flying above the clouds.  Even though I had a window seat on both flights, it wasn't until my return trip that I could relax enough to enjoy the view.  I even snapped several pictures of the clouds so Eli could see how awesome they were.  My mom actually made the flight home with me, and mentioned a sermon my dad had once preached that was inspired by the many flights he's taken.  He'd said that no matter how dark and dreary things may seem on the ground below, at 30,000 feet the sun is always shining.  A few minutes later, it was amazing to read a note from a friend that included the very same sentiment.  She shared about her experience of flying through a rainbow during a storm.  She told me, "You may not get to fly through a rainbow, but maybe you can enjoy the promises of being above the clouds and seeing the beauty from the topside.  I always like to remember that when we look up on a cloudy sky from below, there is sunshine just on the other side."  Indeed there is.

A Battle Of Wills

My sister fights dirty.  She'd been telling me for weeks that I needed a little break.  She kept finding ways to slip the idea into our routine conversations.  One day she casually mentioned that Houston would be a perfect destination.  I could finally see my parents' new house and visit my brothers and their families.  Although the thought was extremely appealing, in my heart, I just couldn't fathom such an idea.  Whenever I expressed my misgivings, she asked me to list my reservations.  I know she showed great restraint and tried not to push me.  Finally, two weeks ago, I found an email from her that was titled:  "Read this--sound familiar??"  Apparently, my sister had been seeking reinforcement online.  This is a portion of the article she shared with me:  "...when trying to schedule vacation time, caregivers can often feel guilty for trying to carry on and have a normal life.  Additionally, fond memories of past vacations, when the loved one was still healthy, create a downward spiral with feelings of loss and sadness.  When caring for another, a caregiver often neglects their own well-being, oftentimes not even seeing themselves as a caregiver, but simply as a loving family member, doing what needs to be done.  Realize that your happiness is what your loved one wants most from you, and that you do them honor by living a balanced and fulfilled life."  No fair, sister!  She knew I could fully relate to these thoughts since they were some of my best excuses I'd been feeding her.
Jason used to love going to Houston.  We went nearly every summer after Eli was born.  Our last trip there was in 2007, just a few months before he started getting sick.  I wondered how I could possibly make that trip without him.
As I prayed and wrestled with my conflicting emotions, I truly did not feel I was strong enough to be away from Jason and Eli.  My sister gently pressed me to at least pick a weekend that might work.  I grudgingly agreed with her that the weekend of June 18th would be the best option for everyone involved.  At the beginning of last week, I went ahead with my normal responsibilities and scheduled housecleaning jobs for the week.  Although I honestly hadn't made a final decision, without thinking it through, I scheduled a job for Friday.  I don't remember mentioning this to my sister, but found a message waiting from her the next morning.    She expressed how sad she'd been when she heard I'd made a commitment for Friday, since that told her I'd decided not to go.  Her message was so touching and helped me realize how much my family could benefit from my respite.  Nothing like pulling out the big guns, sister!  On Tuesday night, I posted John Denver's "Leaving On A Jet Plane" to Facebook, with the comment, "Ok, sister...you win!"

Brown Eyed Girl



My days on the farm as a young girl often lacked a certain amount of excitement. The winters in South Dakota seemed endless and brutal. We found very little enjoyment in being trapped in the house during a blizzard without electricity for days on end.
I did appreciate the arrival of spring and the baby animals that soon followed. I loved stalking the mother cats to discover where they'd stowed their kittens. One of my favorite activities was bottle-feeding my calf, Superstar (naturally, this story ends badly...and we won't dwell on the reason I shied away from beef for awhile).
Summertime on the farm found us toiling away for hours in the great outdoors. I did not thrill at the idea of pulling weeds, shucking corn, or shelling peas. I fairly loathed the task of plucking feathers from freshly butchered chickens.
Ah, but summers did hold the prospect of a certain surprise visitor. The warm breezes often blew in a young man named Harold. A friend of the family, he would often hitch hike from Tennessee and spend many weeks with us. We never knew when he might show up, and since he wasn't fond of farewells, he normally just quietly slipped away.
I'm sure Harold must have arrived with a suitcase in tow, but I only remember him bringing his guitar. Even at this young age, he was an amazing musician. We never tired of hearing him play for us. He helped feed pigs and pick green beans during the day, but spent the evenings singing John Denver and Bob Dylan. While I'm certain he liked my siblings and me equally, at the time I was convinced he was singing Brown Eyed Girl solely for my benefit. Sigh.
Harold slept in one of our outbuildings we called the office since it stored many of my dad's books. Although we had instructions to let him have this personal space, we continually encroached upon it. One day when the office was empty, I decided to strum the guitar and sing Amazing Grace. I knew Harold would be quite impressed with my musical talents, so coerced my brothers into sneaking him out there...so he might "accidentally" overhear me.
Harold also made cassettes of his music so we could listen to him when he was away. Surprisingly, they are still intact and not worn out from overuse. The last time Harold visited our farm was in the mid 90's. I was living at home after college during what I call my "flailing period", when I was unsure of my future paths. After another great visit, he once again left without saying goodbye.
Harold pursued his love of music, and now has a Master's in guitar performance.  He's a college professor, and teaches his mad guitar skills to others. He also performs with Jazz bands in the area.
I recently asked Harold if he could put something together for my mom. He has such a crazy schedule, but managed to squeeze in some studio time. He sent five songs to my computer this week, in time for me to mail a cd to Mom for her birthday. I could hardly contain my excitement waiting for it to arrive.  I was on the phone with her when she opened it, and ordered her to play it immediately.  I was overjoyed to listen with my mom to his rendition of City of New Orleans again after all these years.  In our minds, we were instantly transported back to those simpler summer days.
(I've included a video of Steve Goodman singing City of New Orleans, which he wrote.  Of course, in my [unbiased] opinion, Harold's version is far better)

Grandma's House

Some of my favorite childhood memories are of visits to our grandparents' farm close to Davenport, Nebraska.  We spent so many hours playing in the basement.  There were numerous treasures to be found.  We took turns on the blue hopper ball, gripping the handle as we bounced along the length of the floor.  We created beautiful potholders with a loop and loom set.  I especially loved dressing the paper dolls and holding my favorite stuffed chimpanzee.  We didn't even need to climb the stairs for a snack since the freezer was always stocked with pudding pops.
The big white barn was another special place.  It always smelled faintly of skunks, which must explain why I don't mind that scent so much.  Tucked in one little corner was a play kitchen.  Grandma kept the cupboards stocked with old dishes and cooking ingredients.  I can clearly remember the pitcher I used to mix up iced tea with the jar of instant tea.  It was a little girl's dream come true.
This past December, we took a short detour down a gravel road in Nebraska before starting back for Missouri.  We had driven past a few times in the twenty years since our grandparents moved away from the farm.  We'd forgotten that the barn was no longer standing.  The house looked smaller and was a different color.  Kids' toys littered the front yard.  However, my sister and I were relieved to see the same line of trees bordering the property.  On those trips to see Grandpa and Grandma, we always had our faces pressed to the car windows, hoping for our first glimpse of those trees...and the loving welcome that waited just on the other side.

I only expected to find some antique dishes...

I startled a poor woman at an estate sale today.  I recognized her immediately, and felt compelled to speak to her.  I said, "Excuse me, but can I just tell you how very much I appreciate you?"  She was the hospital chaplain who woke me at 3am on the ICU waiting room floor, called my sister to ask her to come, and prayed with me until she arrived.  It was clear she didn't remember me, even after I'd blurted out a brief summary of our connection.  She's certainly woken many other family members to relay news even more grim.  I was simply grateful for the opportunity to let her know she'd made a difference for me.

"The only gift is a portion of thyself." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Haute Cuisine

One night after Jason and I had been dating for several weeks, I invited him over to my apartment to watch a movie.  When it was over, I decided to whip up a quick dinner before sending him on his merry way.  I simply boiled some pasta and opened a jar of sauce, per my usual gourmet endeavors.  Jason raved about this meal for days, saying it was the best pasta he'd ever eaten.  To this day, I still don't know if he was merely trying to flatter me.  Perhaps it was the bliss of my company that made it seem especially delicious. ha  Jason mentioned this meal many times throughout our marriage.
This evening, after an unusually long and tiring day, I found myself lacking the gumption to make dinner.  I'd literally been on the go for twelve hours, so the couch was beckoning me.  I finally managed to boil radiatore and microwave some Prego.  Once again, this sweet man acted as though I'd slaved over a hot stove for hours creating a culinary masterpiece. 
When I mentioned that pasta of long ago to Jason, we discovered it's one of the memories he's lost.  I assured him it was truly an amazing meal. ha  I'm so thankful for a husband who treasures even my most mundane attempts to care for him.