How To Have A Ridiculous Vacation Part III (Seriously?!?)

And now for the completion of your ridiculous vacation, I present to you these final nuggets of wisdom. If you're just tuning in, start at the painful beginning and slog through it in its entirety like the rest of us had to do.

We last left our family massacring beloved deer, ditching children and strolling along I-25. Let's see what kind of tomfoolery they're up to now.

Step Thirteen: Now that you have a gas can (you know, for emergencies...), fill 'er up and store it in the dancing cargo carrier next to your air mattress. Because if it's going to leak on something, you definitely want it to be on something that will be near your nostrils for eight hours.

Step Fourteen: Do something novel, like go garage sale-ing. Because we all know you can't buy used crap at home. 
P.S. The bowling ball was just too much for you to resist.

Step Fifteen: Decide that (since it's your anniversary), instead of camp fare, you'll eat at a nice sit-down restaurant. A nice romantic dinner for just the two of you. And two kids next to you. Oh and two more at the table behind you, because (apparently) you're a large family and they don't know quite how to seat you all together. No matter. You're confident that your children will not choose this moment to act like ruffians. Good grief. Are they running their spoons across the vertical blinds like old jailbirds? "No you may not put sugar on your spaghetti. Stop licking the chair. Your napkin is not a parachute. You have to go to the bathroom again?"

For Act II of your impromptu dinner show, how about you pinch the baby just as your meal arrives? Because nothing is more entertaining to foreign tourists than watching you eat drippy ravioli, while trying to maintain some dignity as you feed the youngest, whose actions suggest eating under a blanket is pure torture.
And also her foot belongs on your plate.

End with a rousing encore of "Let's go out to the van while Daddy pays the check" in which you will inadvertently activate the car alarm. With horn honking, lights flashing and baby crying you signal in vain through the window to your oblivious, keeper-of-the-keys husband who (though facing you) is tuned into the French table behind him and attempting to figure out if they are still discussing the half-witted, breastfeeding woman who is now waving...at...them...? Uhhh. Bonjour...? Cette Américaine folle...

Aaaand curtain. Oh, did I mention you did this all the while looking like absolute camp ragamuffins in an establishment that uses linen napkins? Just whatever. 

Step Sixteen: Arrive at your campground and flop onto your highly flammable mattress knowing that, through it all, you have been crazy-blessed with a beautiful, messy, ridiculous life and the precious moments over the past three weeks have been balm to your soul and sweet respite for your harried mind. 

And you would do it all again.

***We were so incredibly thrilled to be able to embark on such a memorable and leisurely trip! Every start was a rally and every stop was an adventure. From the sweet fellowship with adoption friends, to shucking corn in the great state of Nebraska. From the gentle rolling hills of Kentucky to the serene wooded lakes of Michigan. From the belly laughs with family to the sorrowful "goodbyes". Each day was filled to the brim with an abiding quiet. A hearty "Thank you" to the many friends and family we were able to see along the way. You made the hours in the van all worthwhile. Much love.***


With A Heart Full of Love and Gratitude,
Cynthia, her Professor and their wacky motley crew

A Mile In My Shoes: Unexpected Blessings

An opportunity for YOU to share your stories, in order that we all might learn to love more deeply.

This submission belongs to this awesome woman and mama.

Mom was standing in her dining room searching for something. Not only had she forgotten where it was, now she couldn't remember what it was. With a sudden realization of what her memory lapses really meant, she looked at me and said, "I am so afraid." Then the fog of dementia crept back into her mind and frustration, suspicion, and anger took over.

At that time what Mom didn't know was that I had already spoken to her doctor about her memory loss. After she forgot how to turn her headlights on at night, I had also written a letter to the Motor Vehicle Department stating that I didn't think that she was a safe driver. When she got the notice saying that she needed to take a driver’s test, I told her that I was concerned and I had written them. She wasn’t really happy, but she was confident that she could pass the test. Ironically, I had to explain the notification and give my confession several times that afternoon, because each time she didn’t remember what I had told her. And, no, she did not pass her driver’s test.

Kathy's mama and my grandma.

A few years before, I had taken Mom to a lawyer so she could update her will and prepare a Power of Attorney, Living Will, and Medical Power of Attorney. Now, documents in hand, I visited that same lawyer and prepared to officially take over caring for her.

Then Mom fell and broke her arm and her dementia accelerated at an incredible pace. She could no longer live alone or safely care for herself. Ultimately we made the difficult decision to place Mom in a nursing care facility that specialized in patients with dementia. That was one of the most difficult decisions that I ever have had to face in my life. Six months later Mom had a series of strokes that took her life.

While going through the tough times of caring for Mom, I found many unexpected blessings.

I learned to pray first - not last. God has an answer for everything, comfort beyond understanding, and eternal strength that will fill you. I know this first hand.

I learned that making preparations ahead of time let me spend more time with Mom and less time getting things in order. While her memory was still good, we got her finances and legal affairs in order. The lawyer also made a copy of all the documents for me as well as for Mom.

We worked to enjoy life to the fullest. My mother had dementia so I did not spend my time correcting her limping memory. I spent my time enjoying her company. In our travels, Mom and I often passed a house with a baby horse.  Every time we passed that house, Mom would point to the baby with great delight and we would stop and watch the horses. Each time she saw that baby horse, it was “the first time” even though she had seen the baby many times - and each time she had an enormous sense of delight. 

I continue to learn to forgive myself for my mistakes. If I had known then what I know now, Mom would not have needed to go into a nursing home. However, I did not know then what I now know and I can’t go back in time and change things. It makes me very sad to know that Mom spent her last few months in a place where she didn’t want to be, but Mom would not want me to be angry with myself. I am learning to extend grace and forgiveness to me.

I chose to view life through her lack of memory.   I went to visit Mom in the nursing home one time and as I walked towards her she said, "Look!  There's my mother!"  She smiled and was obviously delighted to see me.  I had a choice at that point - smile and start conversing with her, or be upset and try to explain to her who I was.  I realized that it didn't matter.  I knew that she was my mother and I knew that my mother was confused.  I smiled back, kissed her, and began visiting with her.  It was more important to me to be with Mom than for her to remember who I was.

During those last months with Mom, I was reminded again and again of what a blessing it is to care for someone you love.  I never thought when I bathed my daughter, changed her diaper, fed her, helped her get dressed - and the myriad of other things that parenting involves - that one day I would do all of those things for my mother. As I cared for Mom, I was reminded that she, also, had done all of those things for me. The blessing to be able to do them for my mother was extraordinary.

The day that she had her last stroke, I spent the night with her. I read to her and sang to her. And I was with her in the morning when she died.

One thing I know: I will never regret one moment I spent caring for my Mom. The unexpected blessings that poured over me during that time have greatly enriched my life.

Live richly - love deeply,
Kathy

Engagement photo-Classy, right?

The Year Of Our Lord

If you could see my feet right now, you'd know they are cold. Why are they cold, you ask? Because my family has blessed our socks clean off! 2012 will be henceforth known as The Year of the Dolls and iPads.* Our daughters received not one, but two unique and precious dolls this year, each resembling them.** My husband and I BOTH received iPads!***

Both.

I don't even have to share. 

Shush. Just let me be a little bit selfish about it.

Now we can FaceTime each other across the dining room table. Not that we've done that. However, if we had done something so silly I would inform you that there is a fantastic stadium-like echo effect. 

I had better wrap this up before you think I've completely taken leave of my senses. Between wonderful time with family (near and far), Christmas celebrations, and precious house guests (okay, and an iPad high), I find myself hard-pressed (and pressed for time) to write something heavy and thought provoking at the moment, so here's my reminder to myself and to you: Had I received nothing but coal, I'd still want to remember (and celebrate) that every Christmas truly is The Year of Our Lord, who came once as a helpless baby and will return again as the Absolute King. 


Until He Comes Again,
Cynthia


*I will also refer to this as The Year of the Popcorn, due to an overabundance of homemade gourmet popcorn strewn across my kitchen counter. 
**This is extra exciting for multi-racial families.
***This is extra exciting because they're iPads.