A Few of My Favorite (Christmas) Things. . .

I have a lot of STUFF. Too much, if I’m completely honest. I could have a year long yard sale and still have stuff I think. My friend Laquita says she will never buy me any more “things” for presents because I have too much stuff already.  Here’s my problem: I love my stuff. It all means something and I can’t seem to throw it all away. This is some of my favorite Christmas stuff.

My library:

I actually keep it out all year, even thought it has wreaths and Christmas greenery on it. My library was a  gift my from my friends Mr. Al and Mrs. Smith. Mrs. Smith and I worked together for 14 years before she left me and retired.  The day I got my email telling me I was selected for Project LEAD at FSU,  Mrs. Smith was the first person I told. I went running down the hallway at our school, yelling.  I  (Luckily, it was nearly 5:00 and no one else was there.) I used her phone to call my sisters, because mine was dead!   It was a Wednesday and on Thursday, she and Mr. Al took me to dinner to celebrate.  Mr. Al brought me a gift from the both of them.  He brought me my library and my first FSU item – a little make up bag.   I don’t think any of us realized it would be my only library, even after all this time!!  

My next favorite Christmas “thing” is the little wooden ornament that I call “Butt Boy.”  I just love him.  . .

Years ago, when I was a little girl, my mom painted a set of wooden ornaments for our tree.  He is one of them. I love his little candle and his little footy pajamas.  She let us paint some too, but I was so little mine is a terrible mess. I painted a horribly ugly orange teddy bear, I have it too, but I don’t hang it up.   I always loved this one the best.  These ornaments are double sided- the other side is different.

See why his name is “Butt Boy?”  When we were little, we were VERY sheltered. This was the naughtiest thing we ever saw.  We always decorated our Christmas tree the day we got home from school, the last day before Christmas break. My oldest sister always made us divide up the ornaments evenly, we each chose one and went around and around until all the ornaments were divvied up.  I always tried to grab Butt Boy first.  When my mom died, we each got some of her Christmas ornament. Butt Boy was the first one I grabbed.

I love my Butt Boy and my library. Butt Boy doesn’t necessarily match the rest of my Christmas tree.  I keep my library out all year round. It’s stuff.  I have lots of other stuff. I have my mother’s punch bowl and the 18 or so punch cups that came with it (minus the ones I probably  broke when I was little.)    I have a box of baby quilts that she started and never finished.  I have the scissors with her name on them that she only used for fabric. She used them when she first wen to work when I was a little girl – and when she made all our clothes. I  have some new stuff this year.  I have a copy of the book “Last of the Breed” that I stole from the Seminole County Library system. It’s just a paperback, but I won’t get rid of it either. 

I really don’t need this stuff.  But especially, this time of year, it all means much more.  Laquita, you’re my friend and I love you, but some stuff, we’ll just have to deal with!  

I’m thankful but not for the car dealership. . .

I’m thankful for lots of things, but I haven’t been doing the 28 Days of Thankfulness this year. I’m a little discombobulated  and that just felt like one more thing I’d have to keep up with and feel guilty if I got behind on. That’s not the intention, but that’s how I felt. I’m feeling some odd feelings lately, but the grief lady says that’s OK.

But today, I am particularly thankful for Donald and Kathy Robbins.  They take good care of me.  Today, they took care of my battery issue.  I needed a man to do a nasty job for me, not because I couldn’t do it, but because unfortunately, some places treat you differently if you’re a woman than if you’re a man.  (Just for the record, the Chevrolet Center in Winter Haven is one of those places!)  I had taken myself down there twice and called on the phone and every person I talked to told me something different.  No one wanted to be helpful and everyone just kept giving me the runaround. Unfortunately, I had to deal with them, since that’s where my battery came from. They were pretty icky  - and they made me cry.  I almost cried because I was so mad at them, and then I got even more mad because I almost cried.  Mr. Donald took my battery out of my car, took it back to them, and didn’t leave until they did what they could have done on Monday.  Then, he and Mrs., Kathy brought it back and he put it BACK in my car.  They even tried to give him a little run-around, but he just “out-stubborned” them.

It shouldn’t’ have to be this way, but I’m glad they took care of it for me. I’m thankful for them. They had other things they could have been doing, but they took care of me! I’m very grateful for them.

Puzzles–my new favorite thing

So lately I’m sort of stuck on jigsaw puzzles. It all started a few weeks ago when I bought a package of puzzles to use in Junior Church. I needed four similar puzzles that a group of kids could each work with and I found a Disney pack with 8 puzzles in it.  It was perfect for what I needed. 

Two weeks ago, I saw one of the puzzles in my bag. I thought, let me see that.  So I did it!  And then I did another one. So far, I’ve done six and I’m working on number seven. I’ve done them all except Belle and I’m still working on Snow White. All the animal faces are killing me. There are eyes everywhere looking at me!

See for years, I couldn’t do puzzles at my house. We usually did one on vacation but I couldn’t at my house, because of BubbaCat. His favorite thing to do was get right in front of whatever I was doing. When I was working on my Master’s degree, he often tried to sit on my computer keyboard, between me and the screen. I’m doing them on the coffee table, but if he were here, he’d be lying right in the middle of the puzzle. And every time he got up, there would be puzzle pieces stuck to him. He’d be shoving pieces off onto the floor, never to be seen again.

I tried to figure out why I was stuck on puzzles lately. I think there are several reasons why.  First, it keeps me occupied.  I’m just obsessive compulsive enough to keep working.  Next, I’m having a hard time sleeping. Mix that with the slightly obsessive/compulsive and it’s a good match. Last and most important, working on the puzzle keeps me from going straight to bed when I get home from work.  I want to! Oh boy, do I want to, but going to bed at say 4:45 every day is not a good thing.  

I just bought a set of Christmas puzzles. I’ll start them after Thanksgiving. 

When Words Aren’t Enough

“I’m finding myself at a loss for words” – and you know that doesn’t happen much.  It’s not that I can’t find words, it’s that the ones I need to say aren’t ENOUGH. 

 

Thank you. 

Thank you for praying for our family.

Thank you for bringing us mountains of food. (According to my friend Mrs. Turner: “They won’t need any food – they’ve got the Baptist Church all tied up. They’ll have plenty of food.”  And she was absolutely right.)

Thank you for the flowers. 

Thank you for the donations to Macedonian Missionary Service in his name.

Thank you for saying  “Call me if you need __________” . . .  and meaning  it. 

Thank you for the cards – that are still coming.

Thank you for taking care of the work for my students.

Thank you for taking care of Mrs. Betty when we can’t.

Thank you for telling me that my Daddy was special to you too.

Thank you for loving me through this time in  my life.

A Man With A Plan

So yesterday, we made our weekly visit to see our dad.  We went later in the day than usual, because Josh wanted to go and he works until 1 on Saturdays.  Robyn baked pumpkin bread for Daddy and when we finally got there – (it seemed to take forever!) Daddy was in a mood.

He started by telling Mrs. Betty he wanted his folder. The conversation went something like this:

Daddy:  Where’s my folder?

Mrs. Betty: What folder

Daddy: You know the one with all my stuff in it. I want my folder.

Mrs. Betty: What stuff?

Daddy:  My identification. I want my identification, like my driver’s license.

Mrs. Betty: Why do you need that?

Daddy: I might want to go somewhere. 

We finally realized he wanted his wallet, so Mrs. Betty got it for him. He spent 10 minutes poking through it, looking at all his stuff. We had no idea why. . . yet.

Mrs. Betty needed to go to the store, so she and her daughter got ready to go. We try to let her get out when we come, because she stays in taking care of him all the time. We want her to have some time to herself and some time where she’s not constantly watching him – it’s a little thing we can do.

The minute they left, it got strange.  The following is one of the weirdest conversations we’ve every had. 

Daddy:  Are they gone yet??

Us:  What?  We couldn’t figure out what was going on his head.  They weren’t even to the car yet!!

Daddy: Somebody get the phone book and look up the number for the library. Call and find out what time they close. I want a book.

Us:  What book?

Daddy: The last one that that man wrote before he died.

Us: WHAT??   We finally figure out he wants a book by Louis L’Amour. 

Me:  Tell me what book you want and I’ll go get it for you. 

Daddy: I want to go!!   He had taken his library card out of his wallet – that’s what he was looking for.

I call the library deciding they were going to be closed no matter what.  Josh looks it up on his phone says out loud:  They close at 5.'

Daddy looks up at the clock – it’s about seven after 4 and says “Let’s go.” 

Josh: He wants to go to the library, let’s take him.

We were dumbfounded. Daddy  gets his new little walker/cart thing and starts heading for the door! 

Us: Wait, which library?  We don’t know where to go.

Daddy: I’ll tell you how to get there once we get in the car.

We’re trying every way we know to talk him out of it.  You’re not dressed, Mrs. Betty doesn’t know. . . He’s not buying it.

Josh: Grandpa, you’re not wearing any pants!!

Daddy (after looking down at his green striped pajama pants) These people around here are idiots – it doesn’t matter!   He turns his little cart towards the bedroom for some pants. Josh goes with him, Daddy:  Those jeans will work. He’s pointing at shoes. Josh puts the shoes on him.

He drives his cart to the front door – pajamas and all. We get him in the car.  We are terrified – Robyn decided she’ll stay home in case Mrs. Betty comes home and we’re not there!!

We start driving, he’s telling me exactly where to go.  We go past Steak and Shake.

Me: We can get a milkshake on the way home.

Daddy:  (with his hand over his mouth) SHHH!!!!

Josh: ( in a whisper) I feel like we just kidnapped Grandpa.

Daddy: I haven’t been out of that house in 8 weeks, except in an ambulance.  (A, he was over here for 3 days 3 weeks ago, and B) he didn’t ride in an ambulance, it was a medical transport.)

He gets us to the library, sits on his little cart/walker and says: “Who’s going to drive me?” So Josh pushes him as he sits on his little cart.  He just got this new little cart thing and it’s not made to be pushed, especially for somebody as tall as Josh, but he did it.  Except Daddy kept dragging his feet and using the brake. 

We ask the librarian for the last book published by Louis L’Amour. She can’t tell us.

Daddy: Point me in the right direction. I’ll know it when I see it.

We can’t find it.  He starts telling me about the book and I realize it’s one I’ve read.  I know the title but we can’t find it.  He says “Go ask again.” The lady tells me the computer says they have it, it’s on the shelf, but it’s never been checked out.  She goes to look for it, we finally realize it’s not with the Westerns, it’s in the regular fiction section. She brings it over, and Daddy says “Yes!! That’s it!  Check it out!) 

To make a long story short, the book he wanted was “Last of the Breed.” He rode on this cart/walker thingy through the library, in  his green and white striped pajamas.  He decided the people in Winter Springs drive like idiots.  Apparently idiots was the word of the day and 8 weeks was the time period of the day. 

He got a chocolate milkshake and said  “Ah, this is the goodest.” I asked should we get a milkshake for Mrs. Betty and Rachel – he said he didn’t know when they’d be home, the milkshake wouldn’t be good.

I know it’s not so funny to read, it can’t possibly be as funny as it really was.  When we got him home, his cousin was there to visit, she said something about him being out in his pajamas. He said “I don’t care.”  He drank his whole milkshake before Mrs. Betty got home.

We realized he had a plan all along.  He waited until Mrs. Betty was gone, he wanted the evidence of his trip  (the milkshake) gone before she got home.   He was quite proud of himself.  The thing was – it really wasn’t necessary. Mrs. Betty didn’t care that we took him out, but I think part of the adventure for him was the fact that he was sneaking. . . He was hysterically funny. When we were little, he would get in really silly moods like that and it was so, so funny. I’m glad Josh got to see him in a mood like that.  So next week, we told him we’ll take him out for another adventure. It may not be as fun if he thinks it’s OK.

Kindness–and a disclaimer

Disclaimer first:  I know my blog is called “At Least We’re Not Being Bombed by the Nazis.”  It’s a reminder to myself about perspective.  During the Blitz in London during World War II, people went about their daily lives, lived with rationing and many, many inconveniences, AND were being bombed by the Nazis. But they survived.  My family is going through a difficult time right now – it’s not pleasant and it’s not nice. BUT, it could be worse. We could be going through this same struggle and have bombs falling on us.    Lately, my blog posts haven’t reflected that. 

 

Kindness:  I read this quote today: The end result of kindness is that it draws people to you.  It’s a quote by   Anita Roddick
and I got it from www.brainyquote.com 

My family has been inundated with kindness in the last few weeks.  I shouldn’t be surprised – as my father is one of the most kind people I’ve ever known in my life.  It appears his kindness to others is coming full circle. 

The air conditioner at his house broke, some dear friends paid to have it fixed.  He and Mrs. Betty’s dryer died – they were washing at their house but taking their clothes to the laundry room of their mobile home village for the dryer. Not a problem, just a pain.   Someone from their church brought them a new dryer.  Their church took up a love offering for them.  (For those who don’t know, it’s an offering just because y0u love someone!)  The people from Lockwood Baptist Church have just showered Daddy and Mrs. Betty with kindness. People bring them food  (Daddy ate all the lime Jell-O by the way, and didn’t share at all!) they have been sending cards and visiting.  People who don’t even know him are praying for him – and LOTS of people who do are praying too!

And it’s not just my daddy and his church. This summer, I made many trips up and down my stairs – and  two “trips.”  The first trip,  I went down on my backside and last week, I went face first.  My steps are outside and under a tree, both times they’ve been slick with rain and tree gunk.  Today, two men from my church came and pressure washed my steps – they look brand new and all the tree gunk is gone. Last week, my sweet friend Cindy made too much pasta for dinner – and she brought me some, complete with a fork and a baby Coke.  When she brought it, it was still warm.   My pastor’s wife gave everyone at our church who teaches or works in a school a special treat for the first day of school.

I’m overwhelmed. People don’t have to do these things, but they do it anyway.  I’m so afraid that in the hustle and bustle of my life, I don’t always do kind things for people when I have the chance.   I want to be different, I want to be a person who thinks of others and acts on those thoughts. Lord, please help me to be kind and thank you for those people in my life who are such great examples of kindness.  I’m truly blessed.  

Faith of My Father

There’s an old hymn called “Faith of our Fathers.”  I’ve never been particularly fond of it and it’s never been a favorite. Today all I could think of was the title of that song.

We spent the day with our dad today. We were worried about both he and Mrs. Betty, his wife.   We worry about her being exhausted from taking care of him, which is one of the reasons we suggested he become a hospice patient – to give her some rest, some relief and some support.  We’re worried about him all the time.

Every time we see Daddy, he seems to get more and more weak. He’s lost a lot of weight, and his arms and legs and shoulders are all skinny – more skinny than  I’ve ever seen them in my entire life. The only thing on him that’s big is his belly, and it’s bigger or smaller, depending on when he last paracentisis was.  (That’s when they drain his belly, as the bile builds up, his belly gets larger and larger.) On Wednesday, they drained 11.5 liters of fluid off his belly. That’s about 23 pounds.  Every time they drain him, he’s weak and tired afterwards and he’s wobbly when he walks. I think it has to do with the weakness and his center of gravity. I imagine a pregnant woman would tell you the same thing – that your balance shifts.

Today, he was in bed when we got there, because he and Mrs. Betty were up almost every hour during the night.  The site where they did his last paracentisis is draining.  Apparently the tiny needle hole where they poked him has not sealed up and the fluid that usually builds up is just oozing out.  Almost all night, almost every hour, Mrs. Betty was having to get him up, change his dressing and change his clothes, because he’d soaked all the way through sometimes.  

When he got up to eat, he prayed over his bowl of “green salad.”(That’s a family joke, sometimes it’s not green. It’s a jello, fruit salad and it’s been pink or orange, but Daddy always calls it green salad, no matter what color it is. He’s color blind, so for  him it’s always green.)

This was his prayer:  “Thank you God for being good.  Please  help those people who are sick and in bad shape, Thank you for loving me.”

I sat there and was ashamed – and I’ll tell you why.  I’m not handling him being sick very well.  I’m not happy about it at all, and my first emotional response to a new situation is usually to get mad.  I have been making a mental list of people who have lived many more years that my daddy who are not nearly as nice and as GOOD as he is.   I’ve also spent lots of time asking “Why him?” His whole life, he’s been a good guy. He’s spent 44 years trying to do exactly what God wanted him to do.  It’s not fair and I hate it. 

But here’s the thing --  I know the answer – the answer is “why  not him” and I get that, I do. I just don’t like it.  But here he sat today, in his 4th or 5th set of pajama pants for the day, with fluid leaking out of his belly, worrying every time he moved just right that it would  soak through the pads and wet his clothes.  The most modest  man in the world had to endure his nurse daughter helping him change his clothes.   He’s been poked and prodded and spent time in the hospital, had to wear water shoes because his regular shoes won’t fit, had to wear suspenders because his belly is so big his pants won’t stay up.  All that and he says “Thank you God for being good. Help those people who are sick and in bad shape.” 

I’m thankful every day for the faith of my father.