Reflection

Here I am, in the last few days of my 67th year. As I reflect on my life, I can’t help but be thankful for all God has done. His hand of protection has been continually upon me. 

• In my teens: I was searching to discover who I was and what I wanted out of life. I made a whole lot of mistakes and although I didn’t always make the right choices, God kept me safely in the palm of His hand.
• In my twenties: I began my family and learned how to be a wife and mother. Life was crazy busy but there was always laughter.
• In my thirties: As my children grew up, I learned to be a better person. I also learned patience, resilience, and forgiveness. My strong faith in

God sustained me.
• In my forties: I became a grandmother! For the first time in my life, my heart was stolen. I attended the birth of my first grandson and learned life is even more precious than I ever could have imagined. Another epiphany I had during my forties was learning I had the right to say NO and not feel guilty about it.
• In my fifties: I discovered the freedom to begin doing things for myself instead of always doing for others. It was hard to move out of the mother role but I managed! I started to like myself and hoped, by God’s grace, to learn how to love myself. I learned it doesn’t matter what others think of me and I don’t have to be a people pleaser. At the age of 56, I was diagnosed with breast cancer and thought I’d been given a death sentence. It was one of the hardest years of my life but God saw fit to allow me to continue to live and for that, I’m extremely grateful. Having cancer gives you a whole new outlook on life.
•In my sixties, I watched many friends and loved ones pass away and realized I’m not immortal. I also became a Great Grandmother! Gosh! 

With the majority of my years behind me, I know the highest quality years lie ahead of me. I say this because I am in the best spiritual and emotional health ever. It isn’t really about the number of years ahead of me versus those behind me because, although I hate to admit it, I’ve wasted so many of them in the past. But now, I get to take all the experience, strength, hope, and love that the last decades have provided and I get to put them to good use every single day for the rest of my life.

For the past week, I’ve thought about my past – the good, the bad, and the ugly. I think it’s high time that I stop thinking and start doing. Life is short and I don’t want to waste one more minute. Erma Bombeck had it right when she said, with regards to her life, “There would have been more I love yous ... more I'm sorrys ... more I'm listenings ... but mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute of it ... look at it and really see it ... try it on ... live it ... exhaust it ... and never give that minute back until there was nothing left of it. Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, champagne in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming “WOO HOO what a ride!”

I’ve been so blessed over my previous years and can’t wait to see what God does in the future. My one and only goal is to enter into His presence and hear Him say, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant.” And that’s what I’m going to be working in the days ahead…that and sharing His love with every single person I meet. I am grateful to say I am blessed and highly favored. I’ve lived a good life!

What will 68 have in store for me? I have no idea, but I kinda like being a sexagenarian! Maybe Medicare will finally stop bombarding me with booklets and emails.

As we continue to watch the moral decay of our society, I’m truly ready to hear that trumpet sound so I can finally go home to be with the Lord forever. Until then, I’ll keep on doing my best to please Him. 

49 years

Today is my son's 49th birthday and I can hardly believe I'm old enough to say that. It seems like yesterday I was heading to the hospital to give birth for the first time. I was so young and so very scared. I had no idea what to expect - no childbirth classes to prepare me to breathe properly or ride out the pain. Instead, as each labor pain grew in intensity, I struggled against it feeling like I was about to split wide open and just when I thought I couldn't bear another second of terror, my beautiful baby boy arrived. I'll never forget how it felt to have him placed in my arms. His tiny body cradled against me, I felt such love and utter infatuation. Finally, I had something or someone to call my own. 

How could the time have flown so quickly? 1976 seems a lifetime away. Looking back, I marvel. I was such a child when I gave birth for the first time only I didn't realize it at the time. I was just 19. By today's standards, I would have just graduated college a year earlier and be enjoying my first year of college, but I'd never been raised to think that way. As I was growing up, it was instilled into me that the greatest calling a woman could have was to be a mother, so that's what I aspired to be, but when you're so young, it's a huge challenge to be a good mother and though I did my best, I don't think I was a very good one. 

Day by day, I worked hard to love my child unconditionally. He was the light of my life and filled me with such happiness. Yes, it was hard to endure sleepless nights when he was sick or teething, but I did it anyway. Some days were more challenging than others because I didn't really know what I was doing. I was winging it and often would have to ask for help from my mother. Naturally, she was honored when I called on her and always stepped up to the plate, but sometimes, she overstepped and tried to usurp my role. But that's a story for another day. 

Thankfully, I can look at my son today and see he's a good kid. He's a wonderful father and now, a grandfather! As I watch him interact with his little grandchildren, I smile knowing I did something right. At least, I think I did. My only goal, as a mother, was to teach him to love and be loved. I hope he'll pass that legacy down throughout the generations to come. 

Next year, Lord willing, He'll be 50 and I'll be 69! And one day, when I'm old and decrepit, I hope he'll come to me and tell me I mattered.

Celebrating a milestone in our family

This weekend we had the privilege of celebrating our great grandson's first birthday. It was a joyful event and we were so proud to be invited to be a part of it. 

It's hard to believe we're now great grandparents! Just saying that makes me feel so old! I never dreamed, when I had my first child at 19 that I'd have great grandchildren 49 years later, but I'm kind of glad I started my family early. Some people aren't great grandparents until they're close to 80 or 90. We're the lucky ones! At least we're still in possession of our mental faculties, that's a huge plus. 

I used to look at old black and white photos of family members when I was a child - you know, the ones with a dozen or more people in them? I marveled, as I looked at each face, how much each family member resembled another. I can see some of that in this photo, too. 

I don't think kids nowadays think about bloodlines much. I don't think they value the importance of family either, at least not in the way we did when I was growing up. We were brought up to revere our elders. We always said, "Yes, Ma'am or No Sir." Politeness mattered. These days it seems many of the younger generation take so much for granted with regard to their elders, and it's a shame. 

When I was growing up, I loved listening to the stories my elders shared. I wanted to learn about our family history and how I fit in. I wish the current and future generations would feel the same way. After all, we have to so much to share...if they'd only take an interest and take time to listen. 

I hope my grandchildren and great grandchildren will want to know more about me as they grow up. I have a great many stories to tell. 

 

So much...

It's been a good while since I've had the time to post on my blog and so much has happened since I last wrote that I have no idea where to begin with an update so I'll just list some highlights (they may or may not be in chronological order, but I'll try me to remember correctly.)

• In mid October, I got word that my oldest daughter, Erin, was having problems with her pregnancy. Doctors wanted her to go on complete bedrest to prevent additional issues or a premature birth. Since she has four other littles, it quickly became evident that I'd need to travel to Texas to help out so my sweet middle daughter, Laura, and her family drove me to Mississippi and my son in law, Caleb, drove from Texas to Mississippi to meet us and he took me on back to their house. When I arrived on the 21st, Erin was still home and was so glad to see me. Since I got in late, it wasn't long before we were headed off to bed. In the wee hours of the morning, I was awakened by Caleb telling me that Erin was leaking amniotic fluid and they were heading to the hospital. I began to pray for their safety as they traveled since they'd be driving all the way to Corpus Christi, a 2 hour trip from home. When she arrived, doctors began giving her medication to help keep her from having contractions and we waited on pins and needles. Caleb stayed with her over the weekend and I took care of the children. 
• On the 23rd, Erin asked me to join her at the hospital. Caleb needed to go back to work and Caleb's mom would stand in the gap where I could be with Erin. I traveled to Corpus Christi and stayed overnight with Erin while she continued to do everything she could to keep from having the baby early. 
• On the 24th, Erin began to have contractions. Nurses kept telling her she wasn't in active labor but when they connected her to a fetal heart monitor, I began watching the readings and I knew she was definitely in active labor. Although the contractions were small, they were constant and Erin was in a great deal of pain. I felt an urgent need to pray for Erin so I placed both hands on her belly and prayed with all of my being. I asked God to protect both Erin and the baby and that if it was His will, that the baby would be carried to full term but if not, that it would arrive safely. After I prayed, Erin told me the sex of the baby. They'd kept it a secret and had hoped to only share when the baby came into the world. Since things were getting "iffy" she wanted me to know ahead of time. I was tickled to find out the baby was going to be another boy. I asked if they'd picked out a name yet, and she said they'd chosen the name Garrett. Garrett means warrior! I was in awe when I heard that because a couple of weeks before I told her that this baby was a warrior! Around 7:53 p.m. little Garrett entered the world at 23 weeks of gestation. He was so very tiny at only 1 pound and 3 ounces and only 11 inches long. I was so thankful I was right there when he decided to make his grand entrance and immediately after birth, he was whisked away by the neonatal intensive care team so they could make sure he'd have the best chance at survival. 
  
• Things were touch and go and we did a lot of praying, waiting, and trusting. On the second day after his birth, little Garrett was transferred to Driscoll Children's hospital so he could get the very best care possible. We watched God work out all the details of his transfer and were amazed that He even provided a room for Erin at the Ronald McDonald house right behind the hospital so she could visit Garrett easily. 
• When baby and Erin were settled, I went back to be with the other children and took over the homeschooling, cooking, cleaning, and even potty training. We did our best to help keep things as normal as possible for the other children and on the weekends, we'd all travel to Corpus Christi to see the baby and Erin. 
• Several weeks after Garrett's birth, I got the call that my mother wasn't doing well. She needed to have surgery to remove her colon. After surgery, she began to have complications and was transferred into hospice care. I was able to talk with my mother and she said her last goodbyes to me. It was an extremely emotional evening and I was distraught over wanting to be with my mother but knowing I had the obligation and duty to be there for my grandchildren. 
• After a month of physical and emotional support, it was time for me to head back home. It was hard to leave, but I had medical appointments I needed to attend. Thankfully, situations and circumstances changed with my mother's health situation and she began to improve. She was moved from hospice care back to the nursing home and seems to be doing fairly well now. 

To say I've been on an emotional roller coaster is the understatement of the year. Minute to minute things with baby Garrett change. He's already been through open heart surgery and has had so many procedures, medications, oxygen treatments, etc. that I can barely keep up. Today he began having seizures. 

It's taken time to readjust to being home. Every morning I wake up expecting to hear the children calling out, "Gigi, can you help me with this? Or Gigi, can we have pancakes for breakfast" or some other such comment or question. It's nice to be back home but the quiet is taking some getting used to. I miss all of them but I know God's got them and He's working out all the details. 

On Saturday, I'll celebrate my 60th birthday. I can hardly believe it. Most days my body reminds me of this fact but I don't necessarily like saying it. I am grateful to still be alive and this year, I hope to celebrate this milestone in a big way. 

Those are the major highlights. There are many minor ones but I can't handle thinking too much tonight. I'm still dealing with some PTSD from all that's transpired. Hopefully, I can get back to posting regularly. It's so much easier than playing catch up. Please keep Garrett in your prayers. Our teeny little super guy sure does need them. 

Random thoughts

My hubby, Phil

Tomorrow is my husband's 62nd birthday. That means he'll be filling out the forms for Social Security, too. I'm looking forward to celebrating his special day but more importantly focusing more intently on our future together. We're planning to do a good bit of traveling and we've both been looking forward to it. As every day passes, I realize we're getting older. The aches and pains in our bodies scream it so loudly now we can't ignore it. But 60ish isn't really that old...if we were in our 90s, I could say we were really getting there and that's my hope...that one day we'll be able to reach our 90s and we'll still be happily married and alive! Being alive is much better than being dead or so they say...but is it really? Sometimes, I think I'd rather be dead. At least then, I'd be in the presence of the Lord. I wouldn't have any more aches or pains. I would never have to worry about the cancer coming back again. I would have no problems whatsoever! I'm not one to wish my life away though so I'll continue to live in the present day and focus on the moment at hand. I'm just so grateful to still be here because two years ago, I wasn't so sure that would be the case.

The year seems to be flying! The older you get, the faster they go. My grandmother always said that. When I was a kid, I never paid much attention to her but she was telling the truth. I feel like I blink and it's a new month. The holidays will soon be here and gone. Time never stands still. That's one reason I love photography so much...I can actually freeze time. I can save little moments of life forever. It's extremely rewarding and enjoyable. I haven't been shooting for several months though. It's been too hot outside to do anything, so I stay indoors. The heat isn't good for the swelling in my arms.

Speaking of arms, I've packed up the compression pump the insurance company sent for my Lymphedema. It wasn't doing a darn thing except stealing an hour of my time and making me look like the robot on Lost in Space...DANGER WILL ROBINSON, DANGER, DANGER, DANGER!!! Nothing is helping much. The compression sleeves are too hot and don't address the swelling in my chest area so I've got to talk with the breast surgeon once again when I go for my checkup next month. She's probably going to recommend some type of chest compression garment. We'll see. The most frustrating thing about my surgery has been the Lymphedema. I don't mind the long, horizontal scar at all. It doesn't hurt and if that was all I had to deal with it would be a piece of cake but this darn swelling is the pits! I can't tell you how frustrating it is and how much I wish I didn't have to deal with it. But how can I complain? I know God allowed it. I think of Paul and the thorn in his flesh given him to buffet him...some scholars say it was speech impediment, some say it was his short stature and physically weak body...no matter, it was something that frustrated him on a daily basis, moment by moment, reminding him of his dependence on God and I am TRYING to look at Lymphedema in the same light but it's difficult. And I still have the clothing challenges. There is nothing I can find to camouflage the HUGE size of my arms except shirts in size JUMBO or with butterfly sleeves, dolman sleeves, or those very out of style caftans we used to wear in the 70s.

I have a family reunion to attend this weekend and I'm not even looking forward to it. I don't want to sound shallow but I really don't relish people gawking at me. I'm trying to decide whether to wear my boobs or not...if I wear them I'll be extremely hot. If I don't, all the young ones will be looking at me and questioning their parents as to why that lady doesn't have any boobs. Decisions. And why do I care anyway? Why do I care what they think? Why do I care about making them uncomfortable about my breastlessness? Do I put my comfort on the back burner so I can look acceptable in public? Yes...pretty much and it sucks.

If you've read this far, you probably realize I'm in a weird mood today and you're right. I'm not depressed, hurt, angry, or moody I'm just being real. These are the thoughts that pop into my head and I just felt like sharing them today. I'm really doing okay. I'm staying focused and I'm living my life. I'm taking one moment at a time and I'm working hard to be honest with myself. I think I'm in a good place.

I had a good day today. I decided to turn off my cell phone for the majority of the day. (I've been suffering from a little sensory overload lately.) I've also spent a lot less time on the computer unless I've been writing for the cancer magazine. I made a carrot cake from scratch for my love's birthday tomorrow, I did the laundry and dishes. I fertilized my plants. I blew off the drive and walkway. I watched a show I DVR'd. I made myself a salad. I read some poetry and wrote this blog post. Those little mundane things meant a lot to me because they tell me life is good and I'm still around to write these random thoughts and that's just as it should be...just because.