I Won’t Lose You

October 6, 2018October 6, 2018 ~ Teresa ~ 3 Comments

Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. Psalm 30:5b

From the archives – September 21, 2015

I look out my window and see you standing there, all forlorn in your red jacket and shoes. My heart breaks into a million pieces as you look around lost in another world.

I’m helpless to fix you. I wish I could take you in my arms, hold you tight and make the pain go away.

Memories of things said in haste flood my mind; things I wish I could unsay because I didn’t know. I didn’t know you couldn’t always help it; I didn’t know how bad you were hurting.

How we were all hurting. Walking around in a fog trying to make sense of the new normal. In many ways we are all ill – it has changed us. We dig deep trying to find answers; trying to hold onto hope, but failing in so many ways.

I don’t want you to leave before you go. I want you full and present while you’re still with us. I know it’s not about me, it’s not about any of us really.

We’re the burden bearers reaching out to you to offer comfort, accepting the reality that it’s never enough. I stifle screams for mercy and laugh with you over whimsy and words that have no meaning.

The laughter is the mask that helps us live, otherwise, we’d cry tears unto death. We won’t give in without fighting. I won’t lose you. You are still you.,

I wait for a glimmer of your essence and thank God for you. I blink away tears as I watch you walk away and I pray for mercy, strength, and peace.

Later, I’ll cry those tears and hope they wash everything new again.

mom

I came across the above words from the blog archives last night as I was planning ahead for today’s post:

Journal – October 5, 2018

I still remember the day I looked out my window and saw Mom standing on the sidewalk beside her house. She had on her favorite denim dress, red canvas, shoes and a red jacket. Red was always one of her colors. I will never forget how she was standing there, staring across the yard. She seemed so defenseless and I just wanted to run to her, hug her close and tell her everything would be alright. That memory still breaks my heart.

One thing that stands out to me was the resolve not to lose her. It didn’t matter if she was losing memories, I would remember for both of us. I told her on several occasions that she didn’t have to worry about what she couldn’t remember because I’d remember for her. And many times I did just that. She’d ask questions about people or events and I’d give her the answers. As many times as it took.

Another way that I held on to not losing her was humor. She could still say things to make me laugh. At times in the middle of a conversation, she would come out with a one-liner that hit the nail on the head that made us all take notice. She loved to tease people and make them smile.

goofymom.1.0007 — Mom as a teenager teasing one of her nephews.

As devastating as Alzheimer’s is I’m convinced that if we hold on tight it can never truly take away the essence of a person. Mom’s personality still shone through and for that, I am eternally grateful.

I’m starting to realize that even though she is gone now I can never truly lose her. She will always live in my heart and my memories. Maybe you can relate.

I hope you don’t mind my sharing from the archives. Yesterday’s post was draining and in preparing for today’s I couldn’t find direction until I came across this old post and it somehow seemed like the right time to share it again. Memoires are an important part of the grieving process.

Grace for the journey,

Teresa

Come back MONDAY for more of the journey? I don’t plan to post on Sunday’s. Just a reminder that I usually post later in the day. Clicking on the ladybug graphic will take you to the first page in this series with links to the daily posts. Thanks for reading!

I Won’t Lose You

September 21, 2015October 5, 2018 ~ Teresa ~ 17 Comments

I look out my window and see you standing there, all forlorn in your red jacket and shoes. My heart breaks into a million pieces as you look around lost in another world.

I’m helpless to fix you. I wish I could take you in my arms, hold you tight and make the pain go away.

Memories of things said in haste flood my mind; things I wish I could unsay because I didn’t know. I didn’t know you couldn’t always help it; I didn’t know how bad you were hurting.

I don’t want you to leave before you go. I want you full and present while you’re still with us. I know it’s not about me, it’s not about any of us really.

The laughter is the mask that helps us live, otherwise, we’d cry tears unto death. We won’t give in without fighting. I won’t lose you. You are still you.,

I wait for a glimmer of your essence and thank God for you..I blink away tears as I watch you walk away and I pray for mercy, strength, and peace.

Later, I’ll cry those tears and hope they wash everything new again.

Hoping in grace,

Teresa

postscript: a few years ago my mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. It has been a long painful journey, but it has also had pockets of joy and gifts. I don’t write about it much because it is so painful. I have begun to realize that in the writing, a bit of understanding and healing lurks in the words, so today I shared some recent thoughts. I didn’t do much editing, letting the words speak for themselves they way they were felt.

Prompted By A Man’s Life

October 16, 2014October 16, 2014 ~ Teresa ~ 1 Comment

Today’s post is Part of a 31 Day writing series where I will choose moments from my life and let them be my writing prompt for the day. Click on the button to the left for the complete series.

A man’s life is defined by What he leaves behind. We live and work. We worry about living well, but in the end all that is left when we are gone is the memory of how we touched the lives of others.

Yesterday evening my husband went to choir practice where he was filling in for a friend, mentor and former professor. He came home saddened by the news that this fine gentleman was in Hospice care. This morning the news came in an email that he had passed away.

He had been battling cancer for the past year, so we knew he was ill, but my husband had just talked to him last week when he had called to see if Rocky would play for him this week at church. He mentioned that he was so tired, but never gave any indication that he was so close to the end.

Over the past year and a half, this man was such an encouragement to my husband as he was searching for teaching positions. He was one of Rocky’s references and he kept Rocky on his list of people to call when he needed someone to fill his shoes when he was out of town playing gigs.

He was an award-winning jazz pianist and had a prolific career. He was well-respected in the music world. I went to his Facebook page earlier to read some of the many condolences and memories from friends and former students. Many people referenced how he was now playing for the angels. I’m pretty sure this is his biggest gig yet!

There are always memories and stories to tell when someone leaves this world; there are always the accolades and the list of accomplishments but the testimonials of a man’s character and how he was an influence in the lives of so many is the real legacy.

Therefore, my dear brothers, be steadfast, unmovable, always excelling in the work of the Lord, because you know that the work that you do for the Lord isn’t wasted. 1 Corinthians 15:58

Remembering in grace,

Teresa

Leaning Into The Curves

April 3, 2014May 28, 2014 ~ Teresa ~ 8 Comments

My Aunt, Virginia Miller, better known as Aunt Jenny, leaned into her last curve and made it home on Friday, March 28. On Tuesday April 2, we gathered and gave her a proper send-off. It was amazing to see how many lives she touched over the years. Many of them, like me, people who learned lessons from the way she lived her life. She was the third of my mom’s sisters to go home over the past five months. A great loss for our family, but what a gain for them to be home with Jesus.

A few years ago I wrote the following essay about Aunt Jenny, but never published it on my blog, or even shared it with her. I kept thinking I would send it to her and I wish I had, but as with a lot of things in life, we never quite do all that we mean to. I know she loved her family well, including her nieces and nephews. I also know we loved her well. I want to share the story with you today as a way to remember.

(Written January 10, 2011)

Aunt Jenny is the real deal. A bona fide woman of God. She loves Him. She lives by his book. And She trusts him with everything. I know this because I’ve known her all my life. And I know her family. I know where she’s been and I know where she’s going.

I remember one time we were going somewhere and Aunt Jenny was riding with us. She was in the backseat with my sister and me. We were on a curvy road. I don’t know what I said (I was probably secretly a little scared of the winding road), but it prompted Aunt Jenny to remark that the curves weren’t really all that bad; you just had to lean into them. And she proceeded to do just that.

So, here we were riding in the car, leaning into the curves whether we wanted to or not because Aunt Jenny was. At the time I remember thinking the whole thing was a little silly. I even remember my sister and I laughing about it later. In fact quite a few times over the years it sort of became our mantra – just lean into the curves. Wow, how little did we realize how profound that advice really is.

Now that I’m no longer a silly teenager, well at least no longer a teenager, It turns out Aunt Jenny was right. When riding in cars, if you lean into the curves they don’t seem so bad. They especially didn’t seem so bad a few years later when I had a guy and was in love. Leaning into the curves then was rather fun, but that’s another story.

I’ve come to realize that Aunt Jenny’s advice applies to life. Life throws us a lot of curves and it just works better if you lean into them and ride them out. Sooner or later the road unwinds a little and you can breath again.

I think Aunt Jenny probably knew even then that leaning into the curves is a metaphor for living life. She has had a lot of curves to lean into over the years. She has ridden them out well. With grace and dignity. She taught her children to do the same. She still rides the curves with grace and dignity and so do her children. There is a gentleness about her in her golden years that reminds me of my grandmother. And those who know me well, know that to equate anybody with grandma is the utmost in status.

I saw a picture of Aunt Jenny on Facebook recently that one of her family had posted. It touched a chord deep inside of me. It was taken during a time when Aunt Jenny was riding out a curve in her life. In the picture she is hugging her son, Jeff, and she has such a sweet expression on her face. You can tell she is holding onto him for dear life as if pouring all her love into him. That’s just the kind of woman she is. That picture, for me, tells the story of Aunt Jenny. It shows her strength and her vulnerability. It shows her grace and her trust. It shows the heritage she is building for her children.

Honestly, it is the perfect picture of how God loves us. I just imagine him holding us for dear life, pouring all his love into us and letting us know that he is leaning with us in the curves.

Thanks, Aunt Jenny. I love you.

Remembering in Grace,

Teresa

Simplicity Unwrapped In The Dining Room

December 11, 2013December 11, 2013 ~ Teresa ~ 4 Comments

Last Tuesday I shared with you how I love the concept of Simplicity and I wrote about finding simplicity unwrapped in the Kitchen. I will be joining Emily and others for Tuesday’s Unwrapped.

Today’s post centers around my little ~~French Country~~ Dining Room. That has been a thorn in my side for a while. I had a dream. A dream of simple grace. My grandmothers wooden table with the muslin table cloth my mother made for it in the seventies (with blue fringe around the bottom) and cane chairs painted white. I would have a white large mirror (the one I found at Home Goods was gone when I went back) leaning against one wall and possibly a piece of white painted furniture for storage etc. The walls would be a shade of white and the ceiling would be painted Martha Stewart enamelware blue. My accessories would be a combo of French Country and shabby chic. It wasn’t all planned out because, of course, part of the journey of decorating is in the unknown – the part that happens over time.

Well, it happened. Over time. The chaos, the misdirected decor and the clutter. I wish I had taken a picture this morning. But, if I’m being totally honest, a part of me is glad (if you change the l and a around you get a totally different word. glad I caught that). I am glad that you didn’t have to see the mess that had become of my little dining room.

Oh, I do have the enamelware blue ceiling and walls that are bleached muslin. I do have the dining table with the fringe on the bottom table cloth. I do have the cane chairs painted white. Ok, so only two of them made it under the paint brush. But, we were on track. And then we moved out of our apartment (our other home) and had to squeeze a lot of stuff into one house. So, I had to add my dark bookshelves to the dining room and an extra chest of drawers and a bench. And the look was a little more eclectic and not the simple grace of French Country and Shabby Chic that I had intended.

Then, we sorted through an estate of a family friend and acquired more ~~junk~~ lovely stuff. Then I helped my cousin go through some of my Aunt’s things and acquired a few family mementos. My dining room became hoarder central (and my kitchen counters too, if I am going to be completely honest). Seriously. So, today in addition to doing some basic cleaning, I decided it was time to get the chaos under control. I thought it was time we unwrapped simplicity in the dining room.

I found a home for everything (not all in the dining room), did some rearranging of accessories, pulled out a quilt of my grandmother’s to make a topper for the muslin table cloth and what I was left with was a little bit country and a little bit shabby (not so much French or Chic). But I did unwrap a lovely gift. A gift that was more than simplicity.

A gift that brought order, a gift that properly displayed memories. A gift that brought balance because now I can walk through the room without worrying that my friends and family are going to report me to the hoarder police.

I also learned that simple order is more important than a specific decorating style. I still have a dream, but in the meantime I am enjoying the simplicity of a gift unwrapped.

I will leave you with a few more pictures of my little shabby country dining room with it’s enamelware blue ceiling. (Keep in mind that these pictures were taken after dark by a non-professional photo taker.)