September 13, 2017
I missed two days with the journal because I have been so busy I
haven’t had time to write. We got back
to Staunton just in time to unload the car and head for church with Alissa and
the girls. It was the first time I had
seen Analia in her new glasses and she was so precious she about took my breath
away. I don’t know what it is about
those thick, big, glasses on that little girl that makes her seem so sweet and
vulnerable. Rory was all smiles when she
saw us. Mike held Rory for a while but
when she got fussy, I took her and stood at the back of the church with her so
that I could keep her quiet during the service.
She almost went to sleep, but she is too nosy to give up willingly. She was desperate to see everything.
After the service, I made lunch by throwing together a bunch of
leftovers, some of which I had brought with me from our Mountain Retreat and
the rest I scavenged out of the frig and freezer. We ended up with a decent meal and Alissa,
Gab and the girls were there with us. I
needed to work but was so tired having been going full speed since 4 am, that I
took a nap instead and when I awoke, it was time to get ready for Kenny’s 60th
birthday party. Kenny is Mike’s older
brother and the one who was recently diagnosed with the tumor. I am never one for parties, especially when I
know I can’t just disappear on the sidelines somewhere but I felt it was
important and wanted to be there to celebrate Kenny’s day. I survived although I was very uncomfortable.
I know I make reference to my being an introvert often, but it affects my life
so much. I am so extremely uncomfortable
in a crowd of people. Mostly, the folks
there were farmers and that gave us common ground to talk about, so it wasn’t
too bad.
The twins didn’t come on Monday but Analia and Rory were there. The
twins are getting busier and busier with their scheduled lives and come to stay
less and less. They are scheduled to
stay with us every Monday but often have other things going on that keep them
away. Kristin said they were starting
soccer and they go to preschool three days a week. I always regret that we don’t get to spend as
much time with them and I appreciate the time we do have. I am thankful that we have been able to be a
part of their baby, toddler and preschool years. Hard to believe they, along with Analia will
start kindergarten next fall.
Rory is so busy, always thinking
of new ways to stretch her wings. She
crawls well and pulls herself up and stands holding on to things now. However, when she grabs on to something
unstable, she ends up taking a tumble. I
probably am an overprotective grandma but I hate for her to bump her head and
cry, so I try to stay right with her and keep her from falling. The good news is she actually slept an hour
and a half for me, which she does at home but never does at Tita’s house. Analia also laid down and took a nap. She took her glasses off before she laid down
and when she woke up, I wondered if I would have to tell her to put them back
on. She looked at them several times
after she woke up and then picked them up and put them on. Poor baby just can’t see without them and
when she has them on she is always exclaiming in amazement at things she hasn’t
seen before. When the girls left Monday
evening, I wanted to walk but felt like I had too much work to do, so I
didn’t. I got supper made and a few
things done around the house and the animals tended to before heading off to
bed. Walking and writing have both taken
a back seat to more pressing things this week.
Tuesday I awoke bright and early and started going through things,
packing, and getting space ready for Alissa and Gab to start moving their
personal belongings in. I finished
cleaning out the room that Analia will use.
The only thing left to do is remove the furniture, give it a thorough
cleaning and move her bedroom suit in.
That room had held all my sewing supplies, machines and material. All of that has now been moved to our
Mountain home. Mike voiced his disapproval that the contents of my sewing room
took precedence over other things that need to be moved but I told him there
was a method to my madness. Really, I
just wanted to get one room completely cleaned out and that room was the most
logical one to work on first since we are still currently living out of the
master bedroom. Mike and I had talked
about moving into the downstairs bedroom but decided to leave that room as a
playroom for the kids (as it is currently set up) and we will transform a
portion of it into Rory’s room. When I
do have all four kids, I keep them all downstairs where they have a lot of area
to romp and where it doesn’t matter how many toys they pull out. I think this will be a better arrangement as
far as the kids are concerned because it really won’t change things for
them. Fortunately, the upstairs
guestroom that Mike and I will move into didn’t need to much in way of
preparation. There were some boys
clothes I had held onto that had been given to us when the twins were born but
Hudson never needed them. They are kept
well supplied with more clothes than they can wear and it seemed a shame to
hold on to them when someone else might be able to use them, so I simply
donated them. My Christmas wrapping
paper and some old pictures are in that room but won’t be in the way for now and
I started moving some of our personal belongings that we will need in Staunton
over to that room. Hopefully I will get
the remainder of our things moved out of the master this coming week.
I also got the linen closet
cleaned out in the bathroom. It was
emotional going through and finding a pillow case that my friend Liz had made
for Josh when he was young. It is a tree
frog print. He loved frogs. I held the pillow case for a few moments and
thought of how he liked to sleep with that on his pillow on his bed and how his
head had laid on that pillow case many times.
I thought about giving the pillow case to Analia but decided to wait
until she is just a little bit older. I
also got some items priced and over to the antique mall. While I was there, I rearranged the displays
in our booth to make things look a little different. Tuesday afternoon and evening I had the girls
again while Alissa went to class. Mike
separated the cows for me which left them bawling all night for their calves
and the calves returning their call.
They only get separated once a week so that I can get milk for our
personal use.
Mike has been busy this week farming.
He planted orchard grass in one of our hay fields and he also planted
orchard grass for a neighboring farmer while he had the drill on the
tractor. He had hay to deliver to a new
customer and he found out that the customer was a world renown violinist. He said the man was very nice and told Mike
that he would love to give our grandchildren lessons and he invited us to come
to a concert sometime. The night Mike delivered the hay, he had a flat on the
trailer and had to leave it and go back for it the next day.
This morning, Wednesday, I got up and milked the noisy cows who were
happy to be reunited with their calves afterwards. We had moved the herd to a field across from
the fields where they usually are kept.
They have to walk across an area that is not fenced to get from one
pasture to the other. With the ornery
bull in the mix, I try to give them a wide berth, and especially when a cow is
in heat, like today. Typically, I would wait
for Mike to help me, but I wanted to get the cows back with their calves and
decided to do it by myself. Of course,
everyone did exactly what I wanted them to do EXCEPT FOR ONE! That’s usually the way. One little heifer decided to go walk about
and it took me a good twenty minutes and a trip around the house before I
finally got her reunited with momma.
I didn’t get the floors swept and mopped last week in Staunton and with
all the moving in and out we have been doing lately, things were pretty tracked
up and dusty. I managed to get the
downstairs swept and mopped well and the kitchen done. The rest is going to have to wait for another
day. We had intended to get away from
Staunton around noon but once again, it was around 4 pm before we headed out. Traffic was bad on 81. It usually is no matter what day or what time
of the day we leave. I thought for sure
there was going to be a wreck in front of us when twice a big semi cut a car
off really short. I have a friend who
tells me that she prays for us to have safety as we travel. I’m feeling pretty certain that an angel must
have been on a mission today to answer my friend Dianne’s prayers.
When we finally arrived at our Southern Virginia home, we saw tracks
where the ground had been cut into by a big piece of equipment and about the
same time Mike and I said, “I bet the lumber is here!” We both jumped out of the car and ran to the
barn to see. There it was our beautiful,
aromatic, freshly cut lumber for the board and batting on our barn. After taking a picture to document the
progress, I sat down on the lumber and made my nightly call to my grandma. It got dark as I sat there and all the stress
of the beginning of the week started to melt away. That’s what this mountain home does for me
and just one of the reasons I love it so.
September 14, 2017
I’m up early with cup of coffee in hand sitting in my favorite spot to
journal where I can eventually watch the sun finally make its way over the
ridge. I jokingly told a friend that the
sun is up for an hour before we see it in this hollow but there wasn’t a lot of
exaggeration in that statement.
As we made our way south yesterday and got into the more mountainous
regions, I began to see color in the trees.
It took me off guard. Of course,
it’s almost October and the trees change sooner along the Blue Ridge. The pop of color was beautiful and I am
looking forward to experiencing our first fall as home owners in the Blue
Ridge. For the last four years we have
taken a day or two and made our way to this area to enjoy the fall colors. Four years ago I never would have dreamed
that we would now enjoy the views driving to our own mountain home.
With the cooler temperatures at night, we have not been sleeping with
the windows open. I sure do miss hearing
the sounds of the creek at night. It
always helps me sleep better to hear the water moving. The springs on our property create the stream
that runs down one side of our house and empties into another stream running
which forks just beyond our bedroom window as it is met by a stream that runs
through the neighbor’s property and flows from there under the road into “our”
stream. We are told where the two
streams meet and widen that there are trout and good fishing. Everything is so grown up there and snaky
that we have not been able to go down although there is a gate there where at
one-time folks could walk through. I
don’t know that we will ever get everything done we would like to accomplish
with this place, but one of the things we would like to do is clean out all
that brush so that we can walk down to the fishing hole.
September 15, 2017
Yesterday evening I got the sickest I have been since I had my gall
bladder issues a year ago. Gall bladder
surgery was a life changer for me. I
know it’s a simple surgery, but I had suffered on and off for over twenty years
with flare up and couldn’t get any doctors to take me seriously because my
symptoms weren’t typical and they wouldn’t run any tests. Part of the problem is that I am pretty
tolerant to pain and avoid doctors. Every
time I go to see a doctor, I act tough and downplay the symptoms or when I get
really desperate and explain how bad I feel, they have always looked at me and
exclaimed how healthy I look and dismiss me as a hypochondriac. At any rate, other than feeling more
fatigued, having less energy, and aching more than I did before I hit
menopause, I have had a really good year.
I have not even had a cold and very little allergies with which to
contend. I don’t know if I had a 12-hour
virus or if I ate something that was bad.
I tend to think it was the latter.
I had a sandwich left over from a restaurant and I pulled the meat off
of it and ate it early afternoon. It
wasn’t long and my stomach began to hurt.
Being who I am, I figured I would just ignore it and go on with my plans
to hike up the back forty. I took the
hardest route to push myself but by the time I got through walking a couple of
miles, I was feeling pretty bad. I sat
down to talk to my dad on the phone and by the time I got off the phone, I felt
so sick I didn’t even want to stand up. I ended up laying around and sleeping the rest
of the evening with my stomach pretty messed up. I woke up feeling fine this morning and I
really think it was the meat from the sandwich that I ate but that could just
be coincidental. I have eaten very little
meat that over the past four or five years that we have not raised ourselves
and I am usually very careful about what I eat when I eat out, mostly choosing
vegetables or fish unless I know where the meat has come from. When I began eating this way, I did it for a
short term just to bring awareness to locally, humanely grown pork and
beef. After a few weeks of swearing off
“feed lot” and “high production” meat products, it became a lifestyle for me. Over the years, I occasionally eat something
so as not to offend a host or I give into a moment of impulse when a particular
dish looks really good and I have almost always regretted the decision. I am not sure why, but most of the time when
I eat meat from other sources, it affects my stomach. At any rate, eating the meat off the club
sandwich definitely proved not to be in my best interest and I don’t think I
will be wanting to regress to eating mass produced, preservative filled meat
for a very long time.
I didn’t accomplish a whole lot yesterday before I started feeling
bad. I did some housework and made a run
to the dollar store. The dollar store is
only a couple miles down the road and is really the only source to purchase
things economically unless we drive about 15 miles. There are a couple of general stores where
you can buy everything from expensive gas to expensive canned goods but I try
to stay away from those places. I know
for years they were the only places for the locals to get anything if they didn’t
want to drive far and I am sure the new dollar store has really hurt their
business. I also made Mike a rhubarb pie
before I started feeling bad. He had
brought the fresh rhubarb from Staunton and requested it. I often make pies with an extra thick crust
around the edges because we both love the crust so much. I know that is not “the right” way to make it
but we sure do like those thick edges. I
told Mike if I entered any pies into a contest I wouldn’t be able to make those
thick crusts. Yesterday I did it “the
right way” and made thin edges on my crust by cutting off the extra instead of
turning it under. I took those pieces
and rolled them out, spread butter on it, and sprinkled with sugar and
cinnamon. After baking it crisp, it’s a
delicious treat right out of the oven. I
remember my grandma do this when I was a little girl and it brings back good
memories.
Once again, we are disappointed in the local contractors. The man who is to work on putting up the
board and batting on the barn has so far been the only person to show some real
effort. I had high hopes for the
contractor that came by last week and spent several hours talking to Mike. However, when Mike talked to him yesterday,
he was already backing out of the jobs that we had hoped he would do for
us.
September 16, 2017
This day is the anniversary of the day when Josh’s heart stop beating
here on this earth and the hearts of all who love him were broken. As a mother, I believe his soul is as peace but
my heart still cries out over our loss.
I have learned to live with my grief, but that event forever changed my
life and the lives of those who love Josh.
Especially on this date am I forced to remember just how evil this world
is and I must call upon Grace to help me to have the strength to allow Love to
rule. I have seen a lot of tragedy in
life, things that have shook my world to the core and things that I recognize
in others as leaving deep pockets of grief.
Even with the pain, I know that I have so many good things to consider and
that has always been a source of strength to me. Recognizing the pain that others face helps
me to not be so self-centered that I think I am the only one who hurts who has
suffered tragedy. As humans, we all know
pain and we have all been hurt and wronged and felt the sting of a cruel world. It is what we do with the pain that comes
from that grief that marks us as men and women of character or as individuals
who take our hurt and then hurt others in return. I wish that I could say that I have always
chosen the path of Love and that I have never allowed self-pity, pain,
selfishness, anger, bitterness or any other negative emotion to choose for me a
path other than Love. I wish that I could say that I never allowed my grief to
wear me down and the loneliness and isolation that come from grief cause me to
act out of character or with lack of judgment.
I can’t say that I have always
made the right choices but I can say that I keep coming back to believing, no
matter how many times I feel pain brought upon me either by my own actions or
the actions of others, that Love is the only option for real peace. After nine years, my heart still doesn’t
understand how darkness and evil can be so strong. The events that led to Josh’s death are
unfathomable and heart-wrenching. I know
as I proclaim love and take my stance again violence, against the taking of
human life in any form, and as I follow my beliefs that Jesus taught a radical
way to live (something I aspire to but have never come close), that many (I
would say most) think I am absolutely insane.
The only time I have “lost my mind” is when I stop letting Love rule my
heart. That is when I have done the most
damage to myself and others. Living out
love is never easy but it’s always easier than choosing hate, revenge, or
selfishness.
This must be the day to journal about my feelings because in addition
to the grief that surfaces today with the nine-year anniversary of Josh’s
death, my heart is feeling the bitter sting that comes from the reminders that
resurface from those who want to find fault, tear others down, meddle in the
business of others with intent to criticize, condemn or even worse,
destroy.
I am a “writer”. Writing has
always been as compulsive to me as breathing.
It’s not a matter of choice. It’s
a matter of survival. I have chosen to
write in many ways over my lifetime that have allowed my thoughts, feelings and
the events of my life to be “public”.
When one does that, one subjects themselves to the critical and gives
those individuals the fuel to pick one’s life apart. Mostly I think people are pretty careful
about admitting where they get their information. They don’t want to be perceived as a
voyeur. But social media especially
gives a tool to those whose jealousy, hate, selfishness or condemning nature
seeks out way of destruction. Life has
shown me time and time again just how low people will go to destroy the lives
of others and many times they do so with the pretense of actually caring. At fifty years of age, while I still believe
the answer is Love, I’m also very tired.
When I was young, I wanted to change the world. I would read books of how people went into
the most challenging of situations and would come out triumphant in some manner
because they persevered. I saw the glory
of the end of the story and didn’t really understand just how hard it was to
live a lifetime, sometimes, before seeing results. And often, the results were only seen in
retrospect (and sometimes not at all). My
idealism downplayed the struggles because I could read and see that loved
triumphed at the end of the book.
Always, always, always I have held to idealism and hope and bounced back
to believe that I can conquer the world no matter what has hit me. Here is what I now I understand: Love is still and always will be the answer but
it doesn’t always have a storybook ending and mostly it is misunderstood and
often it is abused. Still, love is the
only right way to meet every aspect of life.
The more I understand Love and the more I allow myself to let love flow
through me, the more it doesn’t matter who understands or accepts the story
that is my life. And I think, that at
fifty, I understand that Love doesn’t change the world in the ways we sometimes
imagine, but it changes those who choose to allow love to be their guiding force.
So, on this day of remembering my greatest loss and reflecting on the
hurt caused by others to my family not just from that event but from others in
the past years, I pray that God renews in my heart the desire to choose Love
above any negative response or emotion.
I pray that He will help me to continue to forgive when others pry,
condemn, stalk, gossip, misunderstand or flat out seek to do evil or harm. I pray that He will take the hurt and
bitterness that I feel and transform it into an aggressive Love that burns like
a hot fire.
September 17, 2017
Two events worth remembering from yesterday I wanted to get down in my
journal:
I saw an elderly lady yesterday
to whom I had sold some Christmas lights at a yard sale. I mentioned to her that I remembered
her. She said that she hadn’t decorated
for Christmas in years after her husband was killed, but that her great
grandchildren were now living with her and she wanted to decorate for them this
year. I responded that “Little ones make
a difference, don’t they?” She responded
that indeed they did. She went on to
explain that it was her great grandson’s birthday and that he was two years
old. She spoke his name. I heard it and I smiled inside. Mike asked her, “What did you say his name
is?” To which she replied, “Josh”.
How sweet. A simple little
reminder that although we may be consumed with grief, there is still joy in the
world. While my heart was hurting over
our loss of our Josh, this great grandmother was celebrating the life of her
Josh who was bringing her hope and joy and causing her to feel like Christmas
again. It’s these little reminders that
life continues that bring me hope and joy.
Last night we went to the little auction house that provides me so much
people watching entertainment. Every
weekend, the auction house has a 50/50 raffle and the money is split between
the winner and the staff. Mike and I
never participate. Last night, the money
was going to be given to the auctioneer’s granddaughter whose baby had been
born ten weeks premature and is in NICU.
At first I said I wasn’t interested in a ticket but then decided that I
wanted to give some money. I suggested
just giving them the money but Mike suggested going ahead and getting the
tickets and then if we won, we could donate the whole pot back to the
baby. As I said, never do we buy raffle
tickets or gamble in any way other than farming, which I always say is the
biggest gamble of all. When the ticket
was drawn, we won the winning ticket and were able to donate the proceeds back
to the baby. Again, a simple thing, but
it brought me joy and I was thankful that a new life was benefited on the
anniversary of Josh’s death. God is good
to me.