2016 was going to be different.
The last number of years, the weeks before Christmas had been a whirlwind. Shopping. Decorating. Baking. Stress. Anxiety. Worry. That isn't what these weeks are supposed to be about.
2016 was going to be different.
Back in October, I began mentally preparing what would help to make the year end run more smoothly and allow for more time to just be, just breathe, just pray, just be.
2016 was going to be different.
The 1st of November I got a call from my dad. He wanted me to go to his house. I watch my great-niece twice a week and that was a day I had her. He asked me to leave her home with my 22-year-old daughter. My mom suffered a stroke in 2013. It's always a concern when my dad asks me to come by the house. I went to the house and we called for an ambulance to bring her in to the hospital.
2016 was going to be different.
She was taken to the emergency room by ambulance. My dad drove himself. I ran home to make sure everyone was situated and then headed to the hospital. Things looked bleak. I was texting my siblings with each bit of new information. This was not like her other trips to the hospital since her stroke. Things were worrisome.
2016 was going to be different.
Finally, things were somewhat stabilized and my mom was in the intensive care unit. She had a breathing tube, which made it difficult for her to communicate. We didn't know what was going to happen. After a couple days, the tube was removed and she slowly, ever so slowly, began to improve.
2016 was going to be different.
Thanksgiving came. I made my mom's signature apple pie and my dad's famous stuffing. We gathered as a family, feeling somewhat lost without our matriarch and patriarch present at the table. Dinner was brought to mom and dad at the hospital.
2016 was going to be different.
Remarkably, mom was discharged in December and sent home. I thought we were going to lose her on All Soul's Day and instead she was brought back home as we were preparing to celebrate the birth of the Christ Child.
2016 was going to be different.
For months prior to Christmas, I was reflecting on what I needed to do differently so that advent and Christmas and Epiphany would be more calm and more prayerful and more joyous. I didn't want the stress and the worry and anxiety. Then we almost lost my mom. I wasn't able to make any of the changes I had planned on implementing.
2016 was different.
I let go. I prayed. I baked. I shopped (well, to be fair, my husband did a LOT of shopping in 2016). I listened to Christmas music. I wrapped gifts. I trusted that what we needed to have done would be done. I spent a large amount of time reflecting on my life and how the people in my life touch and change me. 2016 was nothing how I planned it to be and yet all I needed it to be.
2016 was different.
I've had the privilege of sitting and holding my mom's hand. At times she laughs. Other times she cries. She likes when I read prayers to her. She tells me she loves waking up and seeing my dad's face - that he makes her feel safe. Her challenges are many and her crosses are heavy to bear.
2016 was different.
I've watched my dad care for my mom. I've seen him sit at her hospital bedside. He arrived early in the morning and left late at night. I heard him call her "lovie." I've watched him care for her at home. He makes her meals. He helps her get from room to room. I've never heard him complain. I've seen the worry in his eyes when she is ailing. I've seen the love in his eyes when he gazes at her.
2017 is going to be different.
Last year I was caught in the usual "stuff," making a to-do list for how my Christmas season could flow smoothly and effortlessly. And then my mom went in the hospital and things changed. I was reminded to narrow my focus. Hold a hand. Look at someone. Hug a friend. Listen. See the person next to you. Really see them.
2017 is going to be different.
My parents have spent a lifetime teaching me important lessons. Yet the most important lesson they didn't even try to teach me. They just love each other. Just love. And it is all they need. So that is what I'm going to try to do in 2017. Just love. Maybe you'll join me.
"I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another." John 13:34
Showing posts with label parent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parent. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 3, 2017
Friday, May 17, 2013
Stroke Lessons
Patience. Tolerance. Understanding. Empathy. Compassion. I have never quite felt the need for these qualities more than I have needed them throughout these last four weeks.
Before the sun was up one morning my telephone rang and my dad was on the other end of the line. "Can you come over?" he asked. There was something in his voice that I'm not used to hearing. Fear. A bit of fear had crept into my father's voice. "I'm on my way."
My mother suffered a minor stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. My mom suffered a minor stroke. I remember when the doctor said "stroke" my father and I just looked at each other. "She had a stroke?" Yes. That word is still sinking in four weeks later.
Emotions. Exhaustion. Confusion. Worry. I have never quite felt the draining power of these qualities more than I have throughout these last four weeks.
We have a large, complicated, beautiful family. My mom carried six children and then, when her sister passed away and her brother-in-law followed a year and a half later, my folks took in two of their eight children. So, what we have is my dad dealing with this change in his wife of 58 years and eight children with thoughts and ideas and feelings coursing through their minds. How do we deal with this? How do we deal with each other?
My mom loves. She loves her husband. She loves her children. She loves her friends. She loves the staff who helped her at the hospital. She would learn a person's name even if they were doing just one test on her. She hugged her therapists. She exchanged addresses with her roommate. The therapists told her that they wanted her to come back and walk down the hall to see them all when she gets stronger. She loves.
All you need to do in a circumstance like this is to remember that when a woman loves the way my mom loves it is only natural that people will love her back. And when a woman you love suffers a stroke it shakes you -- maybe a little, maybe a lot -- but, it shakes you. When you are shaken it is so important to have patience, tolerance, understanding, empathy, and compassion.
That was what I needed to do while my mom was in the hospital. When something would happen I would try to remember this. When someone would suggest something or ask something or do something, I reminded myself that it came from love. That helped me to respond in a kind and loving way, I hope.
I tend to be a little quieter and slower in my reactions. I wasn't always like this, but over the years I've come to realize that if I have the ability to let something soak into me a bit before I respond that the outcome is generally more positive. Everyone's emotions were raw. Everyone was exhuasted. Everyone was confused. Everyone was worried. And that is precisely why I needed patience, tolerance, understanding, empathy, and compassion.
I don't know how many times I heard someone say, "Don't they know better?" or "They should have known..." Why? Why do we expect people to know certain things? Why do we assume that people know the "right" thing to do or the "right" thing to say? Not everyone does know better. Because of this, it is so important to try to talk to people with kindness and love. Give them the benefit of the doubt and trust that they are coming from a good place of wanting to help and wanting to make things better.
People have different ideas about how to handle situations. Sometimes a different idea is just that. Different. Sometimes there is a right way and a wrong way. Sometimes there is a better way and a not-so-great way. Sometimes there is just a different way. Stop. Listen to each other. Does something have to be done "your" way? Let's talk about it. Let's hear each other. Let's remember that we are all coming from a place of love and concern. Be open.
We all want the best for my mom and we are all going through so many emotions. Because people react differently to stress it is so very important to remember that everyone is hurting and coming from a place of great love for this woman.
When you give someone the benefit of the doubt it is very freeing. Why do I do and say the things I say during this difficult time? Because I love my mom. Why do I think others do and say the things they do and say? Out of love for my mom. So, if that is the case, we should approach each other knowing that we all want the best for her, want to do the best, want to say the best things. We may not agree with everything, but when you know someone is coming from a place of love doesn't that change the way you interact with them?
These four weeks have been challenging for so many reasons. Yet these four weeks have brought many blessings as well. One of these blessings has been bringing into focus the importance of how we interact with people, whether it is just for a moment, a day, or a lifetime. This part of my journey, the journey of my mom's recovery, is just beginning. We still have a long way to go. I hope it is a time of drawing our family together and strengthening our bonds.
I have never felt the power of these qualities more than I have these last four weeks and so I tell myself: Be patient. Be tolerant. Be understanding. Be empathetic. Be compassionate.
"Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassion, kindness, lowliness, meekness, and patience, forbearing one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. And over all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony." Colossians 3:12-13
Before the sun was up one morning my telephone rang and my dad was on the other end of the line. "Can you come over?" he asked. There was something in his voice that I'm not used to hearing. Fear. A bit of fear had crept into my father's voice. "I'm on my way."
My mother suffered a minor stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. My mom suffered a minor stroke. I remember when the doctor said "stroke" my father and I just looked at each other. "She had a stroke?" Yes. That word is still sinking in four weeks later.
Emotions. Exhaustion. Confusion. Worry. I have never quite felt the draining power of these qualities more than I have throughout these last four weeks.
We have a large, complicated, beautiful family. My mom carried six children and then, when her sister passed away and her brother-in-law followed a year and a half later, my folks took in two of their eight children. So, what we have is my dad dealing with this change in his wife of 58 years and eight children with thoughts and ideas and feelings coursing through their minds. How do we deal with this? How do we deal with each other?
My mom loves. She loves her husband. She loves her children. She loves her friends. She loves the staff who helped her at the hospital. She would learn a person's name even if they were doing just one test on her. She hugged her therapists. She exchanged addresses with her roommate. The therapists told her that they wanted her to come back and walk down the hall to see them all when she gets stronger. She loves.
All you need to do in a circumstance like this is to remember that when a woman loves the way my mom loves it is only natural that people will love her back. And when a woman you love suffers a stroke it shakes you -- maybe a little, maybe a lot -- but, it shakes you. When you are shaken it is so important to have patience, tolerance, understanding, empathy, and compassion.
That was what I needed to do while my mom was in the hospital. When something would happen I would try to remember this. When someone would suggest something or ask something or do something, I reminded myself that it came from love. That helped me to respond in a kind and loving way, I hope.
I tend to be a little quieter and slower in my reactions. I wasn't always like this, but over the years I've come to realize that if I have the ability to let something soak into me a bit before I respond that the outcome is generally more positive. Everyone's emotions were raw. Everyone was exhuasted. Everyone was confused. Everyone was worried. And that is precisely why I needed patience, tolerance, understanding, empathy, and compassion.
I don't know how many times I heard someone say, "Don't they know better?" or "They should have known..." Why? Why do we expect people to know certain things? Why do we assume that people know the "right" thing to do or the "right" thing to say? Not everyone does know better. Because of this, it is so important to try to talk to people with kindness and love. Give them the benefit of the doubt and trust that they are coming from a good place of wanting to help and wanting to make things better.
People have different ideas about how to handle situations. Sometimes a different idea is just that. Different. Sometimes there is a right way and a wrong way. Sometimes there is a better way and a not-so-great way. Sometimes there is just a different way. Stop. Listen to each other. Does something have to be done "your" way? Let's talk about it. Let's hear each other. Let's remember that we are all coming from a place of love and concern. Be open.
We all want the best for my mom and we are all going through so many emotions. Because people react differently to stress it is so very important to remember that everyone is hurting and coming from a place of great love for this woman.
When you give someone the benefit of the doubt it is very freeing. Why do I do and say the things I say during this difficult time? Because I love my mom. Why do I think others do and say the things they do and say? Out of love for my mom. So, if that is the case, we should approach each other knowing that we all want the best for her, want to do the best, want to say the best things. We may not agree with everything, but when you know someone is coming from a place of love doesn't that change the way you interact with them?
These four weeks have been challenging for so many reasons. Yet these four weeks have brought many blessings as well. One of these blessings has been bringing into focus the importance of how we interact with people, whether it is just for a moment, a day, or a lifetime. This part of my journey, the journey of my mom's recovery, is just beginning. We still have a long way to go. I hope it is a time of drawing our family together and strengthening our bonds.
I have never felt the power of these qualities more than I have these last four weeks and so I tell myself: Be patient. Be tolerant. Be understanding. Be empathetic. Be compassionate.
"Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassion, kindness, lowliness, meekness, and patience, forbearing one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. And over all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony." Colossians 3:12-13
Friday, August 24, 2012
College Moving In Day Revelations
When I was pregnant, people would smile and tell me, ”When that baby comes, your life will never be the same again.” And I couldn’t wait for that change in my life. My husband and I were planning and choosing baby names and decorating the house. Then that little blessing came into our world and our lives truly were never the same again. And I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
Through the years, we have been blessed with two more children. Each time a child comes into your world everything changes. And that is ok. That is part of raising a child. Certainly there are moments of pulling your hair out and worrying and stress. But the love and the laughter, the blessings and joy that come with having a child under your roof will trump out the sad moments in a heartbeat.
Life will never be quite the same again.
2012 has been, and will continue to be, a year of milestones. My girls turned 10 and 18 respectively. My son will be 16 and is working on acquiring his driver’s license. My youngest finished her last year in the lower elementary school and that also marked the end of 13 years there for me. My eldest graduated from high school and is beginning college. Being an emotional person, these milestones brought tears to my eyes – happy tears and sad tears. Some of these moments really brought home the concept of something being bittersweet. My heart was rejoicing at the very same time that it was weeping.
Life will never be quite the same again.
Yesterday, we drove to Aquinas College to drop my oldest off to begin her orientation and her life as a college student. I was able to really enjoy the time getting her dorm room set up and helping to organize things. Lunch was great and we were able to take some time to walk around the campus and enjoy the day. At 2 o’clock all the parents, incoming freshmen, and current students who were helping with orientation met in the athletic building for convocation. They had a beautiful program to kick off their academic year and welcome the Class of 2016. I knew the family time would end at 3 p.m. and the student orientation would go into full swing. I looked at my watch and realized in less than an hour they would be asking us to leave and yet I was able to hold back the tears. At 2:30, I held my breath while I held Trisha’s hand knowing soon enough I would have to let it go. At ten minutes to 3, we were told we had about 10 minutes to share our last parting words of wisdom with our kids before they headed off to get their class picture taken and get busy with their afternoon. It was at that moment the tears began flowing and they haven’t quite stopped yet.
Life will never be quite the same again.
As I fell asleep last night and woke up this morning, I was contemplating why this was so difficult for me. When I held her for the first time, life as I knew it had ended and a new chapter began. We brought her home and lived. All the life events happened together as a family. We were a unit and shared the joys and sorrows of life together under one roof. We watched her grow and learn and mature. We watched her laugh and cry and explore. We lived… together.
I realized that this hurts my heart so deeply because everything has changed. She will be growing and learning and maturing, but not here at home. She will be laughing and crying and exploring, but not under this roof. She will stumble at times. She will soar at times. If we have done our job well as parents, we have given her the foundation to do all of these things and to flourish in her journey. I know she will always be my daughter and I will be able to celebrate all of her achievements and support her in tough times and wonderful times. However, the knowledge she is outside of the circle of my arms is a difficult pill to swallow. The only thing that makes it easier is knowing that she will never be outside the circle of my heart.
Even so, life will never be the same again.
Our family is like the branches on a tree.
We may grow in many different directions,
yet our roots remain as one.
Each of us will always be a part of the other.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Yesterday and Tomorrow
Tomorrow I take my oldest child, my oldest daughter, to get her senior pictures taken. Yesterday, the doctor held her up to me and said, "It's a girl".
Yesterday, I held her in my arms and spent hours just taking in every detail of her face. Her beautiful, round eyes would stare at me as she nursed at my breast while her little hand clasped my finger. She would fall asleep nursing and I would recline the chair and we would sleep peacefully together. And we had a whole lifetime ahead of us.
Yesterday, my daughter would squeal with laughter and run into my arms as we played chase in the living room. Her sweet, contagious giggle would fill the room with music more beautiful and melodic than has ever reached your ears before. We rolled and laughed and played through the days. And we had a whole lifetime ahead of us.
Yesterday, the school bus pulled in front of the house to pick up my daughter for her first day of kindergarten. Her new backpack hung nearly to her knees and her excitement for school and new friends and learning just poured out of her. The step into the bus was so high she had to stretch to get in. I turned from the bus and cried as I headed back to the house. And we had a whole lifetime ahead of us.
Yesterday, we attended the first musical production T was in. She danced and sang and we sat so proudly in the audience not daring to believe that the adorable blond on stage was indeed our daughter. Her smile filled the room and her excitement enveloped everyone around us. And we had a whole lifetime ahead of us.
Yesterday, T began taking driver's education. She couldn't wait to get behind the wheel and I hoped I wasn't the one who would have to take her out driving. This young lady smiled and grabbed her permit and asked if she could drive. What happened to that little one I held at my breast? Suddenly, we no longer had a whole lifetime ahead of us.
Tomorrow, I take my oldest child, my oldest daughter, to get her senior pictures taken. She's a young woman now. A young woman with an easy laugh and a kind heart. I look at her and remember the little one who used to climb in bed and snuggle in tight with me. I look at her and think of the teenager who climbs on the sofa to snuggle in tight to watch a favorite show. I look at her and can see glimpses of the woman she will be. I look at her and suddenly, I realize that we only have moments ahead of us.
Yesterday, I held a sweet baby close to my heart and cradled her firmly in my arms, drinking in her wonder for what felt like forever. Tomorrow, I take my oldest child, my oldest daughter, to get her senior pictures taken and will have to loosen my grip a little more. Today, I realize that although we no longer have a lifetime ahead of us, that the moments that are ahead of us will be beautiful. They are beckoning to me to come closer. They are comforting me as my daughter grows up and away, "Have no fears, these moments will be the wonderful yesterdays that you think of when you reminisce. These moments are what make up a sweet lifetime of memories."
"Every cliche about kids is true; they grow up so quickly, you blink and they're gone, and you have to spend the time with them now. But that's a joy." Liam Neeson
Yesterday, I held her in my arms and spent hours just taking in every detail of her face. Her beautiful, round eyes would stare at me as she nursed at my breast while her little hand clasped my finger. She would fall asleep nursing and I would recline the chair and we would sleep peacefully together. And we had a whole lifetime ahead of us.
Yesterday, my daughter would squeal with laughter and run into my arms as we played chase in the living room. Her sweet, contagious giggle would fill the room with music more beautiful and melodic than has ever reached your ears before. We rolled and laughed and played through the days. And we had a whole lifetime ahead of us.
Yesterday, the school bus pulled in front of the house to pick up my daughter for her first day of kindergarten. Her new backpack hung nearly to her knees and her excitement for school and new friends and learning just poured out of her. The step into the bus was so high she had to stretch to get in. I turned from the bus and cried as I headed back to the house. And we had a whole lifetime ahead of us.
Yesterday, we attended the first musical production T was in. She danced and sang and we sat so proudly in the audience not daring to believe that the adorable blond on stage was indeed our daughter. Her smile filled the room and her excitement enveloped everyone around us. And we had a whole lifetime ahead of us.
Yesterday, T began taking driver's education. She couldn't wait to get behind the wheel and I hoped I wasn't the one who would have to take her out driving. This young lady smiled and grabbed her permit and asked if she could drive. What happened to that little one I held at my breast? Suddenly, we no longer had a whole lifetime ahead of us.
Tomorrow, I take my oldest child, my oldest daughter, to get her senior pictures taken. She's a young woman now. A young woman with an easy laugh and a kind heart. I look at her and remember the little one who used to climb in bed and snuggle in tight with me. I look at her and think of the teenager who climbs on the sofa to snuggle in tight to watch a favorite show. I look at her and can see glimpses of the woman she will be. I look at her and suddenly, I realize that we only have moments ahead of us.
Yesterday, I held a sweet baby close to my heart and cradled her firmly in my arms, drinking in her wonder for what felt like forever. Tomorrow, I take my oldest child, my oldest daughter, to get her senior pictures taken and will have to loosen my grip a little more. Today, I realize that although we no longer have a lifetime ahead of us, that the moments that are ahead of us will be beautiful. They are beckoning to me to come closer. They are comforting me as my daughter grows up and away, "Have no fears, these moments will be the wonderful yesterdays that you think of when you reminisce. These moments are what make up a sweet lifetime of memories."
"Every cliche about kids is true; they grow up so quickly, you blink and they're gone, and you have to spend the time with them now. But that's a joy." Liam Neeson
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