Revisiting Memories

At Crater Lake, 2009

Five years ago today, the doctor came into the hospital room with the terrible news. They told me my husband would not survive the brain bleed he'd endured. That day was one of the most difficult days of my life. I didn't understand why our love story would be so rudely interrupted. I wanted to run and scream and not face the news. This was not what I meant when I said those vows only seventeen months earlier. "'Til death us do part". I wasn't ready. I thought we'd have more time. But we didn't. It was a blip of time. One week short of two years.

I don't want to dwell on that sad day so much except to acknowledge that the dreaded day occurred and has passed. What I'd like to dwell on is the provision God gave Blair and me in those wonderful two years. It was a miracle we met. If it weren't for the internet, it wouldn't have happened. On our first date, we immediately connected and less than a month later, we'd set a wedding date. In our short time together, we traveled, met new family and simply enjoyed our togetherness.

In those two years, we compressed a lifetime together. We didn't have the turmoils some newlyweds face in the first years. Our finances were established. We knew what battles to fight and what weren't important. We knew what it was to lose someone in death and held onto each other all the more because of it. Our time together was short, but full and complete. 

I learned so much from him in that blink of time. He loved and cherished me and I him. Blair loved my family too. Both younger granddaughters only remember him as their grandpa for they were too young to remember their Grandpa Bill. Blair gave the love of football to his two grandsons Andrew and Caleb. They rarely miss a game--and he was their influence. He'd be delighted that they love it so much. And he'd have been at their football games if he were here. And cheering on the Seahawks this Sunday with them.

Emily and Grandpa, 2009

In his brother John's airplane

But he isn't here. He's in Heaven and I wouldn't wish him back. He is in utter joy and completion with his Savior and Lord. His work on earth was done that day, five years ago. Do I miss him? Do his sons miss him? His siblings and friends? Of course. He was a not-to-be-forgotten kind of guy. But we'll see him again when we enter eternity. And on this day, of Blair's entrance into heaven five years ago, we remember you. We love you. We'll see you again.

Mrs. Grumpy Skirt Came Visiting Again

With a flourish, Mrs. Grumpy Skirt reappeared for a visit this week. She hasn't been by for quite some time, but I knew she wouldn't stay away forever.

It was a fairly uneventful day. Week two of my convalescence. I had a prince charming of a husband taking care of my every need. Except I was tired of lugging my heavy "ski boot" around the house. In my chair. In the bathroom. In bed, no less. Try putting one ski  boot on and take a nap sometime with that brick of a ski boot on. It's challenging! I was tired of reading. Tired of cruising FaceBook. I didn't want to watch a movie. I just wanted to do things for myself!

In walks--or should I say--thumps-- Mrs. Grumpy Skirt.

Jim asks, "Honey, would you like something to drink?"

"No, thank you," she sighs. "Well, OK. How about we have something sweet to eat?"

"We have the sugar free vanilla ice-cream and I could put some hot fudge on top."

"Oh, yes. That sounds good. Put lots of nuts on it."

Minutes later, Jim with great flourish, places a lovely navy-blue-with-Japanese-script-on-the-sides sauce bowl in my hands. It was cool on the bottom of the bowl and I could smell the warm, sweet, chocolaty syrup melting nicely on the cream. And on top, what was there, but peanuts.  "I hate peanuts on my ice cream!" I whined.

"I had no idea you didn't like peanuts on your ice cream," Jim said in a reasonable voice. "I'll take them off. What kind of nuts would you like?"

"Walnuts." I, er Mrs. Grumpy Skirt, said.

"Coming right up." I heard a slightly less cheerful voice say. Muttering under his breath I heard, "I had no idea she didn't like peanuts with ice cream!"

Soon, the bowl came back into my lap, the ice cream a little more melted, and on top, a large splay of chopped walnuts. "Thank-you." Mrs. Grumpy Skirt said, her voice a little less petulant, humbled by her husband's loving spirit. "Are you coming to sit down and eat with me?"

"In just a minute." The great room is draped in darkness as he turns out the kitchen lights.

"Are we going to eat in the dark?" Mrs. Grumpy Skirt wheedled.

"Just give me a minute to come over here and turn the lamp on. I just didn't want the gymnasium lights on for our dessert." His voice, less patient sounding.

All of a sudden, I came out of my Mrs. Grumpy Skirt mode and realized what a sweet, charming, husband I had. Who was only trying to make my confinement more pleasant. A dessert less calorie laden (with walnuts) and soft lights and I was complaining! I wish I could say it never happened. That Mrs. Grumpy Skirt never appears in a nearly perfect marriage. That I'm always sweet and accepting of my situation, but I'd not be honest.

Mrs. Grumpy Skirt may not care about short accounts. But I do. "Honey. I'm sorry I'm so grumpy. I don't even know why I am! Will you forgive me?"

"Of course I forgive you. I'm sorry you have to be laid up like this." He leans over to kiss me. "How's your ice cream?"

Such a simple act of loving forgiveness. Saying you're sorry and then the other accepting your shortcomings. We are told to do just that, Sometimes it's easier than other times......

Be kind.....to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you. Follow God's example, therefore as dearly loved children and walk in the way of love.....

(Ephesians 4:32- 5:2)

It sounds really simple, but it is true. Try it.

Note: If you've not met Mrs. Grumpy Skirt, check her out....http://myredleatherjacket.blogspot.com/2012/08/mrs-grumpy-skirt.html

My "ski boot". It really is big!

The Mozena Family-Meet My Newest Branch of the Family Tree

Here are some of the siblings:
Kathleen, Dr. John, Joe, Peter, Dr. Rosaleen and Jim being silly

I've been the recipient of excellent medical care this week through my new extended Mozena family. In the fourth quarter of my life, I've had a few breakdowns in my body. Just the normal wear and tear of time taking its toll. But my feet are what have given me the most trouble. I've been an active person all my life. Raising my two children. Teaching elementary music which meant being on my feet most of the day.  I've also done lots of hiking and mountain climbing and my feet have paid the price. Well, maybe the high heels I used to love to wear too.

That's where the extended family comes in. It started with plantar fasciitis. Painful walking on my left foot. The trouble began just before our first real vacation together after Jim' retirement last Fall. My new brother in law, Dr. John Mozena took care of my foot woes. Happily for me, he's a podiatrist--one of the best in the state of Oregon and well within driving distance. He took x-rays and asked, "do your bunions give you much trouble?"

"Well, yes."

After more conversation and my plantar fasciitis getting better, together we determined I'd have surgery on the bunion. I won't go into medical detail about the surgery except to say I was blessed through  multiple Mozena family members. For example, when I checked into Dr. John's office, my new daughter in law, Kryston, checked me in. Jim's granddaughter (now mine, too), Kennedy, had a bright smile on her face as she breezily greeted us. An office assistant at the office, one of her first jobs after high school. My step daughter, Vicki, took down my health insurance information--she's the office manager. My stepson, Bryan a senior medical assistant, told me what to expect after surgery in a very professional manner.

Then for my final pre-op check before surgery, Dr. John checked in. "We'll take good care of you," he said, taking my hand.

"I know you will," I say.

The morning of surgery, in comes Dr. John to check on me, reassuring me again, things will go just fine. They did. I had excellent nursing care while in the Day Surgery Center. The nurses all told me Dr. Mozena was the best. Later that evening, he texted Jim to check in on me--I don't know if he does that for everyone with his large practice. Dr. Rosaleen Stone, the eldest sibling and a psychologist, gave me a call to check in on me too, with some good advice. Kathleen, the youngest sister, who worked for Dr. John in the past, also checked on me via email from California. If I needed crutches, I could have called my brother in law, Steven, who owns a home medical supply company. Jim's other brother, Joe is a pedorthist and could have helped me obtain the most therapeutic shoes for my condition. Lastly, Peter the oldest brother, could have provided excellent legal advice, if needed. Obviously, it wasn't. Mary, Jim's developmentally disabled sister,  prayed with me for my surgery when visiting her the day before. Even Kevin, my step son called to check on me that night.

My home instructions were to stay off my foot--with the exception of getting up for five minutes every hour. The rest of the time, I'm to be off of it, with my foot propped up above my heart.

We drove home later that day and my dear Jim--the most important Mozena family member--to me anyway, has been my caregiver. What a guy. Just dream of the best possible care you could receive: pillows fluffed, breakfast, lunch, and dinner on a tray with a little vase of flowers. Jim sorts out my medications and makes sure I take them on time. Brings me water. Assists me when I need to get up and makes sure I'm steady on my feet. He puts up with my somewhat grouchy frustration because I'm limited in what I can do.

Family. What would we do without them? I am so grateful for mine. And I haven't even begun to scratch the surface of the many others....and I do love my newest branch in my family tree.

My feet, long before their many decades of use and abuse

Look For Miracles

 I'm working on my latest book, tentatively called Beyond Second Chances. There's a chapter called "Miracles Big and Small" and I'll include one story that I've named "A Mere Twenty-four Hours".

“How much longer do I need to hold this?” I said in a whiney voice.

 

“I just need to tighten the bolts one more time and I think I’m done,” Bill said.

 

He was installing a new roll bar for the little sports car we owned. An MG Midget with a rag top, it was a sporty new car and whizzed around the streets easily. Both of us loved to drive it but the car really wasn’t safe without a roll bar, even though roll bars were not considered standard equipment by the car manufacturer. Bill had plans to race the car and in order to race, the SCCA—Sports Car Club of America, had safety standards for equipping the cars to compete in their races. You had to have a roll bar, and a military aircraft seat belt—four inches wide with three clips to close it. The seatbelt was installed and now, the roll bar.

It was late that February night in the unheated garage, and I was freezing. I wanted to get home to our warm bed plus I had classes to attend next morning. I heard the final clicking of the ratchet wrench and Bill said, “OK. I'm done. We can go now.”

He was glad he’d completed the job. I was glad to be done holding onto the roll bar while he installed it. The car was safer for racing. I didn’t know how useful that piece of equipment would be exactly one day later….

“Bye,” I said, closing the front door of my parents home. I dropped by for a couple of hours while my husband Bill worked the night shift. We’d watched "The Andy Griffith Show" and now it was time to go home to my studies. 

“Thanks for stopping by,”Mom called as I closed the door. I hopped into the car with my black miniature poodle named Mike, snapped the three clips of the seatbelt to secure it, and was on my way.        

It was dark and I was the only car on the back country road. As I was speeding my way home, all of a sudden in front of me, I saw road barricades. I immediately swerved to the left to avoid hitting them, the very sensitive steering on the little sporty MG. It jerked back toward the right, swerving out of control. Before I could even react, I was in the front yard of a house with the car flipped over on its top. I could hear the clacking of the fuel pump in my ear, the engine still running, not getting the gas it needed. I shakily turned the car off, looked around unable to place where I was. I was upside down, hanging from the top of the car, firmly strapped in my seat belt. I screamed, for I thought I was trapped—I couldn’t move my knee. After a moment, I realized all I had to do was unhook myself. I flipped the three prongs of the belt and dropped down onto the top of the car. Disoriented, I felt for the door handle and pushed open the door. Everything was opposite of what it should be. I heard voices and the sound of a siren, and crawled out. I stood up and looked at the car’s upsidedown-ness, resting on the front lawn beside a telephone pole. "What was I going to tell Bill?" was my first thought. We were told I'd have broken my neck and died, had that roll bar not been installed just twenty four hours earlier.

 

A few days later, we found out some teenagers for a prank, had put some road barricades in the middle of the road. After reading about my accident in the newspaper, the parents came forward and paid for a new windshield. That’s the only damage done to the car. A broken windshield. A large bruise on the side of my knee from it being pressed between the roll bar and door, and one scared poodle. 

My dad said later when they came to pick me up after the accident, it looked like no one could survive in that tiny upturned car. Had he not heard my voice on the phone, asking him to pick me up, he said he thought I should be dead. 

Obviously, I wasn’t for that was nearly fifty years ago now. A gift of fifty more years. 

Bill with the MG. Note how small it is--he was a big guy at six feet tall

An MG on the racetrack--very much like the one I drove

I'll bet you can think of a miracle that has happened to you. Perhaps not as dramatic--or even more dramatic! And when you do, be thankful for God's presence in your life. 

The Day After New Year's Day

I was flummoxed by what I'd write today. It's the day after New Year's Day and I should have something profound to say to bring in the year. Instead, I was inspired by another writer who aptly wrote about what she was grateful for.

You've been hearing about my "gratefuls" all year long, but I can't resist yet again reciting some.

First of all, I'm grateful for the beautiful sunrises I'm given many mornings where I live. Just right outside my front window today, I was able to see a beautiful one. This photo doesn't do justice to the spindly black branches of the oak tree and her minute twigs that trace the lightening sky. The lacy purple clouds adding texture. The dark green firs ever present in the NW.

Morning

Go Oregon! Rose Bowl Game Watching Attire

How about the fun of dressing up for the big game we watched yesterday. Oregon won handily. We rewarded ourselves by watching the game after taking down our Christmas tree and decorations--there were many. Phew! We were tired, but had so much fun cheering on the team. Just the two of us.

New Year's Cookies

I am grateful for family memories of our mom making New Year's Cookies on the day. It was her mother's recipe and we loved the warm fritter-like deep fried confections. We'd break them in half and dip them in the sugar on our plates. Of course, we counted them out so each one would get their fair share. This New Year's Day, I made them for Jim. He loved them and we ate every single one! They were delicious!

Annabel sporting her new hat

 There's the joy of seeing our granddaughter, Annabel, wearing the gift we thought would be perfect for her. She loves hats and scarves and accessories.

Our Devotional for 2015

There's the anticipation of reading a new devotional to learn more about love languages: (1) Words of affirmation (2) Gifts (3) Acts of service (4) Quality time (5) Physical touch. 

Lake Union, Seattle

I'm grateful for families. Weddings. Christmas. Children. Siblings. We attended a wedding ceremony last Saturday in Seattle of my nephew and his bride on a decommissioned ferry boat. The night sky was beautiful. So were the vows spoken. Jim and I held hands as we listened to them. And remembered our own vows just a little over a year ago.

Merrill and David

The happy bride and groom just after saying their vows. 

Waiting for the wedding to start with some of my favorite people

We had fun dressing up for the wedding and waiting for the ceremony to begin. Most of the family was there, together.

My husband resting his eyes while reading in bed

I'm grateful for the fun-loving husband I have. He lets me take photos of him, lying in bed. He looked so funny with the magazine plopped down on his face. He looks weird, doesn't he?!

Vacationing in Yellowstone National Park (notice Oregon sweatshirt!)

I've listed only a few of my "gratefuls" that are only from the past few days! I'll be adding a few each week from 2014.

I challenge you to start writing gratefuls down. You'll run out of room very quickly, I'll bet.

I am most grateful to Scripture that always brings joy and insight to me each day. Here's a line of Scripture I came across Wednesday from the Psalms:

Righteousness and peace have kissed.

Words to think about.