Glimpses of Heaven

Little Sister and I went to see my sisters in another state yesterday.  It isn't a big trip, it is only a two hour drive.  My oldest sister had lunch ready for us.  She is the unofficial cook in our family.  Lunch alone, was worth the drive.

My other sister lives just a couple of fields away.  She was at a dermo apt with her husband and didn't get there until later.  She had an found old movie taken when my kids were little.  We could not wait to watch it.

When your parents have died and your kids are grown, finding a glimpse of something past is the best gift.  I can't even find words for it.  It's feels like a supernatural phenomena.  The movie was on a VHS tape.  My sister only has one VHS player left and it is in her grandsons room.

Five adults sat in a five year olds bedroom, littered with toys, peering at the small television set, placed at eye level for a three foot tall boy.  We strained to see and hear our parents speak.  We laughed at the children as toddlers.

It was a wonderful treat.  But, I found myself growing sad.  I was sad because I realized that I was peering at my son, the same way that I peered at my parents.  I looked at him as someone who was gone from my life because addiction has come between us.  It has made him so enslaved unto his disease that he can't even consider being a part of our family.

More than anything, that is my wish.  But, it is not to be.  At least not now.  Drug and alcohol addiction is at epidemic proportions and we're worried about what Bruce Jenner is doing with his life. 

I wonder if we aren't already living in hell sometimes.  I guess there is but one road between heaven and hell.  My perspective has everything to do with the direction that I'm facing on that road.

There was a little part of that movie where my sweet dad sat in his rocker with my son at about five years old.  They were rocking and cutting up with each other.  They were both smiling and laughing and in that moment it was pure heaven.  I think I will hang on to that.

 

All Things Spring-y

I'm in cleaning mode.  It's part spring cleaning--part Easter is Sunday and the girls will be home.  Whatever the reason, it feels good to declutter and clean.  It's even nicer to open the windows to invite the fresh air in to chase away the stale dry air of winter. 

Bright blue planters will make their way to the porches just waiting for the safety of a much promised no-more-freezing-May-first.  The hummingbird feeder has been placed and morning coffee resumes on the back porch. 

Come on over and sit for a spell!!!

I love spring.  I love summer.  As I grow older the symbolism that they embody is not lost on me.  How I long for fresh starts and new chances.  I guess we all do.

Since winter began, eight new houses have been built near our home.  It was fun to watch in the beginning.  Now, I wake up each day and pray for landscaping.  Louis, our standard poodle, whose paws more resemble bear claws than dog paws, loves to frolic through the mud next door. (I say frolic because when he runs he sort of canters--head bobbing up and down in rocking horse style movements) 

He is a crazy dog.  He reminds me of Scooby Doo from the cartoon.  When I walk Lucy (Doxie --4 1/2" tall) and him(40 1/2" tall)  together,  he cowers at other dogs.  She goes into protective Mama Bear mode.  I have a leash in each hand with Louis stopping frozen, tail tucked, attached to my leg and Lucy running directly toward any barking dog in the opposite direction than Louis, tail up barking loudly as if to say, "Don't talk to me that way Buddy.  I'll walk on this sidewalk anytime I want."  This exercise is what I like to call doggie yoga--or split your owner.

Speaking of summer, I read a blog written by Sophie Hudson (Boo Mama).  She is really funny to read, especially if you are from the south.  She recommended a lovely summer-time beverage that I tried yesterday and loved!  It is from Chik-Fil-A.  You get one part unsweet tea and one part diet lemonade and voila you have the perfect southern tea.  I just had to share.  Tell me what you think.

I've been working on a book.  It is a book about how addiction changed me and my faith.  The book feels a little like the character from Harry Potter--"He who shall remain nameless" because of the stigma that surrounds addiction.  Who might I hurt if I write this?  Who might behave differently if I publish it?  Have I changed the names?  Should I write under a pseudonym?  Will this cause more harm than good?  Those are questions that I have been asking myself since the idea of writing first began to dance itself around in my imagination.

The act of writing this book was a bit like spring cleaning.  I swept up a lot of scary things into a pile, looked them over, sorted them into categories and tried to put them into some sort of logical order to try to glean some bit of understanding before washing my hands of them. 

Now what to do?  Well, I do not know.  So I am going to pray.  And, walk the dogs and sit on the porch.  Maybe I'll sip some tea.  Happy Easter everyone.  Praying for Henry.  Mine and yours.
 

You Can Either Laugh or Cry........

I haven't been here to post in a while.  I haven't visited your blogs either.  But, true to this blog's name, I have been praying for you and your addicted loved ones.

 

Prayer is a joining up in relationship with my power who is Greater than myself--we had to work that one out but I've finally come around to His way of thinking....but, I digress.  I have been deeply working through prayer these last few months.

 

One way that I have found to pray is through writing.  I have been afraid to say that out loud even though  I have been calling myself a writer for a couple years .  I decided that it was okay to do that because --well, anyone can write.  But,  really what I  would like most is to become an author and that is an entirely different beast.  That means that I need to learn to write well.

 

I have been hunkered down working on a project that I will share more about later as I get a better handle on it.

 

My son is working at a wonderful restaurant and doing an IOP.  I am working very hard at staying out of his business.  And, when I forget, he is thoughtful enough to remind me.  It is a work in progress. 

 

Big Sister is in Louisiana in a doctoral program.  Her school got out for Mardi Gras (apparently we all went to the wrong school).  I think it was a great experience for her.  And," no there was no flashing for beads going on, Mom, in case you were wondering."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Little Sister is in her very last year of nursing (BSN) and was hired at a hospital as a CNA(certified nurses assistant) PRN (as needed).  She is thrilled about this as it helps her to make connections once she graduates,  because she is so afraid that she will never be hired.  Did you all know that it takes experience to get experience?  Because, I could not have possibly known that until she sat me down to explain it to me in slow......, loud .....words.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Dad has brought a new standard poodle puppy into our world.  He assures me that they are intelligent animals.  He (Louis) has chewed every magazine in our home.  He even went to the newspaper recycle basket and went through the entire stack to find any shiny magazine-like pages and pulled those out to chew into rice sized pieces which he evenly distributed all over the sofa and floor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He can pull the runner off of kitchen table.  He has not yet mastered the trick of keeping the napkins and salt and pepper shaker in their place when he rips the runner off of the table.  I am sure he will keep trying.

 

He has decided that we shouldn't be able to snack while sitting on the sofa since he cannot share with us--thus he has chewed up each and every coaster that we own.

 

And, he has a distinct eye for fashion.  He skipped over every cheap pair of flip flops that I own, opting for my expensive OluKai ones with the much needed 'old lady arch supports' for his chewing pleasure.

 

See, I told you he is intelligent.  Maybe I need a new trainer. 

 

I'm going to a silent three day directed retreat next week and then going to visit Big Sister.  I'll remember you there and your loved ones as I pray for Henry and all of you.

 

 

 

 

Pedagog

I've been volunteering at the jail for almost four years now.  My church wanted some involvement so we are starting a new program to connect newly released inmates with jobs and housing and twelve step programs.  We are also offering mentors to those who wish to have one.

I offered to mentor a young girl who was just released.  She has a child and an opiate addiction.  No housing.  No job.  No license.  No car.  No family support.  I went to some friends and asked for donations and got her first and last week paid for in a recovery house.  I got clothes and food donated.  I picked her up from jail and delivered her directly to the recovery house.  Three days later, she packed up and moved out.

At first, I was angry.  Then I started to wonder if I had the right intentions.  Did I help her for my ego?  Was I helping according to God's will or Hattie's?  But, then I thought that maybe God was giving me the opportunity to learn to love without condition.  I called a couple of folks that she might be in contact with and said, " Please tell her that if she still wants a mentor, to give me a call.  No judgment."

I may never hear from her again.  She might call.  Who knows.  "It takes what it takes" as they say in Al Anon.  Maybe God placed her in my path to help me.  I have been so arrogant to think that I could save her when maybe she is saving my relationship with my own son by teaching me that you love someone mistakes and all.  You love someone who is not doing it your way.  You love someone enough to offer support even when they are doing it on their time and their way.

I look back at how I grew up.  My parents loved me.  But, their fears affected the way that they showed love.  If they were afraid, they might hold back approval or acceptance until I changed my behavior. That is much the way that I have parented all of these years.  But, I am learning.  I am learning more from those that I would least expect to learn from.

Healing started for me when I was able to get truthful....mainly with myself about all that was wrong.  Saying out loud what the problems were took a lot.  Now I realize that we all have problems.  We all have done things that we are not proud of.  All of us carry shame and guilt.

Shame wants us to keep quiet and stay sick.  And, I am over it.  I am a mess.  I just learned a very valuable lesson from a young girl who is a drug addict with the kindest heart and broken spirit and a smile that lights up a room.  So I am opening up about this ugly pride that makes me think that I can fix her and save the world. 

Funny how God works.  She might just be saving me.  Praying for us all.

 

Coming Full Circle

I have five brothers and sisters.  And, I have twenty nieces and nephews.  And, fourteen great nieces and nephews.  We are a prolific bunch!  Yesterday I traveled an hour away to see my niece and her newest child, just five days old.  He was so tiny.  This is her fourth child and so I decided to take them dinner instead of a baby gift.  By the time you have four, two boys and two girls, you have it (baby clothes, furniture, tools)  all.  But, you don't have time. 

This niece is my oldest brother's daughter.  While growing up, he was my favorite.  He is seventeen years older than me and he took me everywhere.  He tried ( and failed) to get me into sports.  He read to me, turning me  into a voracious reader.  We lived in a tiny town in Kentucky.  There were no book stores for miles around.  But, we had a library and we lived in the country so  the bookmobile came around every two weeks.  My brother worked on the railroad so when he went to a town where there was a bookstore, he always brought me back books. 

He got married when I was in my early teens and when he and his wife had a baby, I loved hanging out at their house.  It went well for a while but then my sister-in-law's drinking became a wedge between her and every single area of her life.  It was ugly.  We became distant.  Everyone just wanted to steer clear of the insanity that is alcoholism.  I grew up, got married and moved away.  Then my own cloud of addiction entered the picture.  They say that if you don't deal with things in your life, God will continue to give you opportunities to learn from them and so I guess he did.

Yesterday was the first time that I've really talked to my niece.  Oh we've chatted, but yesterday we talked about what was/is real.  And it was such a blessing.  This little girl that I knew is now a grown woman carrying scars from addiction but surviving it.  She is a loving mother, good wife and so diligent in providing for her children, what she did not have.  I am so impressed.  But, I want her to learn to take care of herself and to model that for her children. 

I want to get to know her again.  I want to get to know the others.  Addiction is the big elephant in the family room of my big extended family.  If we all gathered at the same time, we could form our own Al Anon group and probably an AA group as well.  I just think it's time we started to talk to each other. 

In other news, it is the second day of lent and the time changes this weekend.  I can't believe it's spring forward time again.  It's been so  cold that it doesn't seem like it can be that time, already.  Weight Watchers was cancelled due to weather which bummed me out because tracking both food and weight really help me. 

Big Sister got an invitation to interview for a position in a PhD program in Louisiana.  We are going down next weekend for a tour and a day of events followed by her interview.  I think she was shocked by the invitation.  She only expected to be accepted into masters programs. 

The Son is working for his Dad until he gets a new job.  I have a lot of concerns about that.  I really want to be careful that we aren't enabling.  We did need an employee and he had just quit a job but it can be a slippery slope.  Praying you guys.

 

Look Back but Don't Stare......

Sparkling sunshine and sixty-three degrees are responsible for the spring in my step today.  I can't get that "Happy" song by Pharrell Williams out of my head either.  I think that  has to do with getting on the scales this morning.  I seem to have a pattern.  I will be at a certain weight ( number) and then it will go down a number and the next day back up again for a few days and then down until it settles there.  This morning I skipped a whole number!  I've been going to Weight Watchers for four weeks....actually five but four weeks of weigh-ins and I've only lost 7.2 lbs.  I know it is respectable but skipping a whole number is pretty cool when it's been slow progress.

The Son had been doing really well until the weekend and we saw a slip.  Granted, he has never given up alcohol altogether so it was/is inevitable.  But, it brings you back to those old fear and worry places.  The Dad is having a particularly tough time with the anxiety it brings.  It's hard to detach from worry when he is worrying so.  I need to distance myself from it and he wears it all over his face.  I guess we are both at different places in our journey.

Big Sister is having panic attacks over finances.  She is now financially independent, at least until she goes to grad school in the fall.  She is about to begin some research with a professor from her undergrad program and she has to spend money to register the research.  She has application fees for grad schools, she has to be a bridesmaid in a friend's wedding.........It seems unending sometimes.

Some of my "birdies" from the Homeward Bound program are out and taking steps to life outside.  They are a little like my scales...up and down until they settle one way or another.  They help me learn to manage expectation.  I catch myself getting tied up in their progress.  The new class is really going well.  Each class seems to carry it's own tone.  This class is an eager one for healthy change.  Investing yourself into the cause of addiction is very difficult when you aren't that great with slow change.  I guess God is teaching me patience. 

Hoping you are all doing well.  Oh, the title came from my Al Anon meeting last night.  I loved it.  Praying for all of you.

 

Looking Back on the Past

I just printed off all of the blog posts that I have written since the beginning.  Two hundred forty-four, single spaced pages.  Sometimes I don't like going back to read because it's so hard.  Sometimes I do because I am able to see some progress.  I'm going to go have it collated.  Here is the proof....proof of a long fought battle for quiet acceptance, proof that our awareness was awakened and continues to grow, proof that in a empty space that mainly housed only me and my fears, now resides a  space full of love of God and his will, with me close by allowing him to show me the way to myself. I wonder if any of you guys have ever done the same? 

A new session has begun at the jail.  I met the ladies for the first time on Thursday.  I am only offering a creative writing workshop this time.  I am relieved that I am not facilitating a class that I do not feel qualified to teach.  I guess some could argue that I am not qualified to lead a writing workshop but my goal is mainly encouraging them to look in and question and effectively communicate with themselves and others. 

I watched a great segment on writing obituaries on Saturday.  I must admit that I love reading them.  There has to be some really great stories tucked in those interesting snapshots of a life.  I learned that in Great Britain, their obituaries aren't always flattering.  I've included one of my favorites to give you a "happy" for today. 

Yesterday I got to spend the entire day alone.  To many, that may sound lonely but to me, it is a necessary part of my sanity.  I need quiet to allow myself to look in and be present with my feelings.  Then, I am able to understand them, deal with them and let them go.  I'll probably turn into the odd little blue haired lady who kids are afraid of before it's over.  Oh well.

I'm beginning to day dream about warm coastal breezes.  I fantasize about winning the lottery and packing only an overnight bag and checking flights not for price but warmth, buying a one way flight and staying as long as I feel like it, shopping for the proper clothes when I get there, eating delicious food and taking a huge stake of books.  Can you imagine? 

The son seems to be making progress, lately.  He has a girlfriend who seems very nice.  He is paying bills on his own.  He is visiting family, hanging out with us, talking on the phone with friends while staying in the same room where we are ( I know that a lot of you get how big that is), trying to quit smoking and making future plans. 

Big Sister is working as a vet assistant until the fall when graduate school begins.  She is paying her own way which was a little shocking to her at first but I'm really proud of the job she is doing.  She is even replacing the tires on her car this week.  That is a big financial burden off our plate.  I'm really proud of her.

Little Sister is quite excited about nursing school.  I purchased hot dogs at the grocery store so that she could practice IP shots!!  It's so funny to look at these kids that I remember so vividly as the little characters now enter adulthood taking on grown up responsibilities.  It's been great finally letting them go.  They are so much more than I could ever force them to be.......

This reason we are all here is the darndest thing, isn't it?  It almost broke us and yet, it has changed things in the most wonderful ways.  I guess that is what I will look for when I read about the past. 

Praying for Henry, my family and yours. 





 

Southern Festival of Books

  I spent a couple of days at the Southern Festival of Books this weekend.  I'd always wanted to go but had never made time for it or really knew what all it offered.  Now that I know how it works, I'm afraid that I will be there every year buying too many books, as usual. 

Yesterday, I heard only one author speak, Rick Bragg.  He was such an entertaining feller, as my Dad would have said.  He writes a monthly essay which can be found in the back of Southern Living magazine.  It is usually an observation of some aspect of a life lived while growing up in the south.  He is a Pulitzer prize winning journalist for the NY Times and the author of six books, all non fiction.  His memoir, All Over but the Shoutin'  is the story of his mother's sacrifice to raise three boys alone after their abusive, alcoholic husband and father  abandoned them. 

I got there a little early and saw him as I was heading in to listen to him speak in a fair sized auditorium.  He spoke to me and looked me in the eye as if maybe I was someone that he knew and couldn't remember. 

Afterwards he signed books.  I got in a very long line and waited while he took time to listen to each person who came up with a book to be signed, who shared a bit of themselves with him, telling him why his book meant so much to each of them.  Many asked for writing advice and most wanted their picture made with him.  When I got up there I wasn't sure what to say but I said, "my grandfather was an alcoholic and it deeply affected my dad and my son suffers with drug and alcohol addiction...."  "Well, then you know these people,"he said while tapping his finger on the pages of his book.  "Yes, I do."  I said. 

And, I thought that maybe I know him too.  And, it occurred to me that he looked me in the eye, not because I was someone that he thought he knew, but that when you know the faces of those in the margins, you make it a point to make sure that you really look at them and others.  When you've loved a person that society discounts, whether you've been angry with them or not, whether they've made their amends or not, you still realize that they are a person. You are careful to look at others knowing that they have a story too.

Maybe I read too much into it.  Maybe not.  His book is really an interesting story.  It is a picture of addiction and poverty which often walk hand in hand. It is an account of a Mama feeling guilty for the way things turned out....  a portrait of the south in all of it's good and bad parts.  It did sound familiar.

Today is one of the last days in the eighties, at least this week.  It seems like summer never ends and then winter just hits.  I did buy books as Christmas gifts.  It was a lot of fun.  I'm learning to enjoy myself....Praying today for all of our loved ones. 

Cussin'

Some people swear.  But, in the south, we cuss.  I have never really been much of a cusser (is that a word?).  My mother, born in 1923, NEVER cussed.  She actually wouldn't even fully spell a cuss word.  Doing so might actually mean that she'd cussed.  So, she'd spell exactly half the word and not one letter more. 

My dad grew up very poor and the son of an alcoholic.  He wanted more.  He would always tell me that it was easy to cuss but he was so proud of my Mama and what a "good" girl he'd managed to snag that he just felt like he could and would do better.  Instead, he made up cuss words.  "Dad dhasted" was among his favorites.  "Son of a Buck" was another...although I'm fairly sure that a buck is male, but I don't really guess that matters. 

My aunts used Sugar instead of that word referring to fecal matter.  I wonder why we feel such power when shouting out a term referring to excrement?  But, the one that is like nails on a chalk board to me is the "F bomb".  Did you know that "f bomb" actually made it into the dictionary this year?  It is a sad sign of our times, indeed.  Anyhow, I hate, hate, hate that one. 

In active addiction, my son, knowing of my adverse  reaction to that word once called after he'd been kicked out and he'd been drinking, and using his great creativity to use that particular word as a noun, verb, adjective and a host of other grammatical terms that I have forgotten the meaning to. 

On Friday, I confronted him about something that I thought he was lying about.  When he continued to stand by his story, I yelled from a place I was certain my parents were watching and shaking their collective heads in a "you know better than" motion, BULLSHIT!

If you really think about it, bullshit is like the plain ol shit on steroids.  I know this for fact as I live next door to cows.  Anyhow, I'm fairly certain that son swallowed his gum and his face went red and the whites of his eyes just about doubled in size.  He was so shocked.  Here was this boy who was obviously not shocked by much and yet me cussin at him almost knocked him over.  He could not let it go.  He brought it up 3-4 more times.

It kind of tickled me (after I felt guilty over stooping lower than I should have in a fit of anger).  It tickled me because even if I didn't realize it before, keeping my language clean, meant something to him.  You talk and talk to your kids but it's your day in and day out actions that are really who you are.  They are what they really notice.  It is a wake up call for me to build on that one good thing that I've got going.

Today, I am thankful for his standards for me.  I am thankful for great parents.  I am praying for all of you out there with your daily ups and downs and I'm praying for Henry.

Finding Me Day 11

I'm a little behind on posting but today I took a look back at my blog.  I looked at my very first post,  then a few others.  I was struck by just how lucky I really am.   Because of the journey I've been on, I've had a paradigm shift...... a much needed one. 

I keep thinking of Dr. Martin Luther King's famous quote where his wish for his kids is that they will be judged by the content of their character rather than the color of their skin.  If I am honest, I must admit to being judgemental for all kinds of ridiculous things.  While I may not judge for skin color, I have judged for messy rooms, bad grades, the way things "look", and a host of ridiculous things that my kids have about as much control over as MLK's kids had control over their skin color. 

One of the gifts of this journey is fresh eyes.  Today, I see that my kids are so marvelous.  It took my getting out of their way to see who they really are.  My son inspires me.  When I look at the changes he has made, I am so impressed.  He has a serious work ethic.  His sense of humor leaves me in stitches.  And, if he weren't my son and I was his age, I'd want to be his friend because of how great he is.  I know that when I need him, he'll be there for me. 

My oldest daughter has this tough exterior but a soft vulnerable soul.  I think she's the only one who doesn't see how special she is.  She is so gifted at so many things that she could really take her pick of occupations.  But, caring for others is her specialty...sometimes to the detriment of herself. 

My youngest daughter is this little ray of sunshine.  She is quiet but she can pack a punch.  She is very thoughful and detail oriented.  Because of health problems, she has the wisdom of an old soul.

My husband and I are doing something that I am so proud of.  We are going to marriage counseling.  A lot of folks consider those who are in counseling to be those who are in trouble.  I think those who are in counseling to be those who love each other and their kids enough to realize the need to do things right for the rest of their lives. 

Counseling has made me realize that every person just needs to feel loved, needs to belong to others, needs to be appreciated for their unique gifts, needs to be heard.....needs to be loved! 

I am so blessed.  My new eyes don't look at the world anymore.  And, it's amazing because what's inside of my house is far better than anything outside of it.  I have a husband who is working so hard both at work and at home to build our family up.  I've got these three great young adult children.  Watching them find their way in life is like watching the bud of a rose unfold.  The content of their character makes me so proud. 

If I can pass along one thing it is this.....look deeply at what is important and then cherish it, nourish it and be grateful for it.  Today I share my favorite prayer with you and I'll throw in a prayer for Henry.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love.

Where there is injury, pardon.

Where there is doubt, faith.

Where there is despair, hope.

Where there is darkness, light.

Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,

grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;

to be understood, as to understand;

to be loved, as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive.

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.

Amen.

Henry's Last Son

This weekend I will travel to the funeral of my uncle.  He was the last remaining child on my father's side.  Although we weren't really close, he was still my family....a connection to my past.  We seem to lose more and more as we get older.  Hopefully with each loss, we will gain some wisdom.

This week I volunteered to take my first AlAnon meeting into the jail.  It was one of those things I always wanted to do but was a little intimidated by.  It ended up being rewarding.   My Dad grew up very poor and his father, Henry, was often abusive.  My Dad told me a lot of stories of people who helped him out along the way by mentoring or giving him a chance he might not have normally had.  He always paid that forward for as long as I can remember.

My experience at the jail confirmed the notion that everybody needs the opportunity of education, understanding and compassion, and another chance without judgement.  My uncle was a good man.  He provided a home for his parents when they could not have afforded it on their own.  My Dad was a good man.  He was always helping those who had less than he did.  At Christmas or Thanksgiving, we always fixed plates for older or lonely folks and delivered them to them. 

My Dad and his brother were the sons of an alcoholic.  The stigma of addiction followed them everywhere as it does to alcoholics and addicts today.  But, they rose above it.  I tip my hat to these men and in appreciation for the good choices they made, I too will give back.  They set the example.  There is nothing nicer than offering hope to those that feel that there is none. 

Today I say a prayer for the soul of my uncle and for Henry.  I pray for those ladies I met who are looking for a better life without really knowing how to get there.  I pray for our addicted loved ones and those who care for them.  I am thankful for the positive examples in my life.  Those examples are the food that feed my soul.  I hope that you to can take your experiences and use them for good.

We are Family

My mother had six children.  She grew up during the depression.  She survived a tornado and a flood, each destroying the home that she was living in.  She lived during World War II. One of her children almost died as a baby, one lost an eye in an accident, two boys were sent off to Vietnam one was wounded, one daughter was diagnosed with a cyst in her brain and all of us drove her crazy from time to time.  Her favorite brother was killed in a tragic fire.  She worked very hard all through her life.  She battled diabetes for over half of it.  She was one strong woman.

I remember growing up thinking that I didn't think that I could withstand all of those very difficult times.  She was such a meek, quiet, kind hearted, loving woman.  She never really got too rattled.  She never really threw a fit.  I am sure you are wondering how I could possibly be her daughter.  Growing up I heard over and over the story of how she received the news that my brother had been wounded in Vietnam.  Apparently, she thought that an official only came in person to deliver news if there had been a death, so when a sheriff and a military figure drove down our driveway she ran outside took off her shoes and started throwing them at the officers yelling at them to get off of her property!!!  If you knew just how quiet my mother was, you would really appreciate that story.  She calmed down and profusely apologized when she realized that my brother was wounded, on his way to the states, and would be okay.

I have a cousin that is my age.  She and I spent a lot of time together growing up.  We used to take our scarves off and she would hold one end and I would hold the other across my driveway at Thanksgiving and we would charge admission to all of the relatives so that we could buy penny candy at the Kwik Pik across from our grandmother's house.  We got into all sorts of trouble fun.  She broke her leg on my skateboard that her father told her not to ride...which I encouraged her to ride.  We made up poetry for the "mean girls" that were calling her names.  We went to see Grease four times until her Dad put his foot down.  She was my maid of honor.  I was in her wedding.  Our boys were born three months apart.

Today, we share a lot more than that.  She has two children that fight a lifelong disease.  She and I worry about the scariest thing possible....the health of our children.  We have faced the one thing that no mom ever wants to face.  We have looked the devil in the eye.  We both know what it is like to be frightened to the core.  We both know what it is like to carry the burden of worry day in and day out.  We both want to hope and still struggle to do so from time to time.  We both get caught up in worry so much so that we loose track of the big picture.

That being said, we are BOTH fighters.  We are learning new ways of hanging on.  We are learning new ways to cope.  God is so generous when we really need Him.  When I started blogging, she was one of my most avid readers and still is.  She has understood all of the fears I have.  She has commented on how different and how much the same our situations are.  She has listened and checked on me and been there.  God in His goodness has brought us out of our busy lives back to help support each other.

The really marvelous thing is that not only do we share our fears, but we really can laugh and have a good time.  We both have said that we have seen the scariest thing.  Nothing else compares to the fear of your child being sick.  We're really not so scared of other things that typically would have scared us before.  We've both mentioned (however foolish) that if someone tried to car jack us or break into our houses we'd say "bring it on, buddy,  just try it....see where it takes you."  We're two mad moms who are just looking for a good reason to start swinging!!!  But, we honestly mean it!!

So here we are.  We're becoming our mothers.  But, for us that's a very good thing.  Our mothers were sisters.  They were so close.  They were sweet and funny and I loved watching them together.  I miss them both so much.  We are facing the hardships that they did that we never thought we could face.  Life can be so hard.  She asked today why God thought we were strong enough to take this.  I have to wonder myself.

I don't want to be in this situation.  I know she doesn't either.  But, at the same time, it is here in this scary place, that all of the "crap" is irrelevant.  It is here that what's important becomes crystal clear.  It is here that I really am trying day in and day out to listen for and follow God's will.  That is a gift.

Today I have many prayers of thanksgiving for the gift of family.  I am thankful for the examples of our mom's who fought hard and loved unconditionally and taught us to laugh.  I am thankful that this hardship has given us proper vision to see what is really important and learn to eliminate " the crap"...I am thankful for a loving God who provides support when we need it most.  I pray for my son to be healed, for good health for my cousins children, for those all around us who are living with the disease of addiction.  I pray for all of the souls including Henry who never got the help that they needed.  I ask all of these things in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.  Amen