November 13, 2017
We drove back to Staunton right after church on Sunday morning. We had not been in several weeks and I really
wanted to go back over to the Presbyterian Church that is relatively close to
our house. It’s funny because six months
ago, I was so disheartened and discouraged by folks who meddle, gossip, and
stab in the back those with whom they are supposed to love and do it all in the
name of the church. I won’t say that I’m
not cautious and that I don’t go into church with my eyes wide open, but I do
realize that I have disappointed and hurt others during my lifetime and my
presence in church is my time to quiet myself and reflect on God and life and
what I need to do for personal growth.
Although I don’t go to church to “feel good”, I do feel a connection
with the mostly elderly congregation of about twenty people there. I WANT to return and that’s what makes the
difference. We are fortunate that
although the congregation is very tiny, the guest preachers they have are
interesting and informative, all of them so far being highly educated and able
to expound upon the history and background of the scriptures they choose to
discuss. Of course, with my personal
pacifist leanings and my personal interpretation leading me to follow more of
an Anabaptist thought, there are things that I find don’t line up with my
interpretations of Scripture and Christ’s example, but I guess I am at a
different place in my life where that doesn’t really matter to me. Well, I shouldn’t say that it doesn’t matter
to me, but I am learning that my personal ideals are just that. While I may
feel that I am right in some of my choices and beliefs, that doesn’t keep me
from being able to live in harmony with others.
Isn’t that in fact the crux of Anabaptist doctrine anyway? It’s a lot easier to “live in peace” with those
who believe exactly as we do. Where our
conscience is tested is in how we react when folks do not believe the same was
as we do and especially when those folks are also “Christians”. Case in point, I do not believe in promoting
the military in a church service or even in recognizing the veterans of the
military during a church gathering. I
understand why it is done and I grew up in Baptist Churches that proudly
displayed the American flag in the front of the church and put their military
veterans on a pedestal. So, I get
it. I understand it. I lived it for most of my life. My views, my conscience, my interpretation of
following Christ means that I don’t promote the military or nationalism in
church especially but that doesn’t mean that I can’t have fellowship, understanding,
love those I have chosen to be with on Sunday who might feel otherwise. Anyway, it was good to see the dear people,
get a hug from the kind Mrs. Childress; wave and smile at the West Point
graduate, career veteran (as old as my dad) whose winning grin, sparkling eyes,
unexpected, politically incorrect comments and Universalist religious
background keep us on our toes; and converse with the warmhearted, genuine,
kind people who stop to chat. Mike and I
have been disappointed at times over the last few years with “people” but we
have also had opportunity to see and know and understand the hearts of various
folks with various backgrounds in vastly different settings with different
ideals than our own, and have come to realize more than ever that it’s all
ok. When we view each situation as a
chance to learn, grow, and expand, we realize that conflicts of interest and
opinions are necessary to bring us to maturity.
When we arrived back in Staunton, we went to both of the Antique Malls
where we have our booths. I had not been
over to Verona Antiques since Mike set up our area and he wanted to see if I
could tweak it as well as add a few more pieces. When we got there, his youngest sister and
her husband were in our booth and a little later his mom came to check it
out. We managed to work it over a little
bit, but the space is very small and limited because we only rented half a
booth. We then went over to The Factory
Antique Mall and we were very disappointed in the booth that we share with our
partner in the front of the mall. I had
spent so much time re-arranging it and had our small section looking really
good, but our friend came in and reworked his section and added a number of
shelving units and a lot more merchandise.
The additions made the booth very crowded and the one shelving unit we
use to display our items in that front booth had been turned in a different
direction which made it not as eye catching to folks as they approach the
booth. Since the booth technically belongs
to our friend and he has absolute right to do whatever he wants to do with it,
we can’t fault him for doing what he feels is best to sell his
merchandise. I was just disappointed
that the atmosphere and carefully planned display that I had worked so hard to
achieve was compromised and so quickly after I had done the work. Our booth in the back of the Factory Antique
Mall is solely ours and that one just needed a little tidying up as a few
things had been oved around by shoppers.
It was fun to get back to the
“madhouse” that is home when we are in Staunton. The two little granddaughters were so happy
to see us. Analia really missed us
having had spent so much time with us the week before. She told her mommy that she would miss her if
she went with us back to Laurel Fork, but she misses us too when we are not
there. Analia shrieked and grabbed my
legs and told me she loved and missed me.
Rory immediately tried to stand and walk to me and started crying when I
had to walk by her and not pick her up immediately because my arms were
full. It feels really good being a
grandma and being loved so much by your grandkids. Those moments make me thankful that we can
give so much of our time to them, even though it does require a lot of
sacrifice. Alissa had to turn in a paper
for her MA exam and I had reviewed it and highlighted some potential
changes. We tried to go over that
together but the girls were both wanting our attention and finally I took
Analia and went to the bedroom with her to get her settled down and in bed.
Monday was a good day. It was
the first time in a couple of weeks that I had felt good and like myself which
made things go a lot better. The girls
were both feeling better to with everyone except for Gab and Mike completely
over their colds. Rory seemed really
content and only fussed a little. She
also napped really well for me. Analia
was happy to have me as a playmate although she kept asking about the
twins. I know she really misses them on
Monday. They are studying at home with
their momma as their teacher instead of going to preschool and I know that
Kristin is enjoying being able to spend this time with them before they start
kindergarten next year. After Alissa got home from work Monday, I
grabbed a bite for Mike and I of leftovers and then we left to drive back to
Laurel Fork. We only spent about 27
hours in Staunton this week and it was actually a little hard to leave. Alissa and Gab both looked so tired. Gab is working extra hours at his job and
Alissa has had so much work for school plus her job. But, we had other things that we needed to
attend to and had to make this a short trip to Staunton.
We got in to Laurel Fork Monday night taking the truck and a trailer so
we can pick up some lumber from the saw mill next week. We got a good night’s sleep and then Mike got
up and worked on the barn while I got breakfast and then he went back after we
had eaten while I gathered what we needed to make a trip to Georgia. We left the house around noon and headed to
Georgia to spend some time with my grandmother.
It will be a working/business trip as well as a time for us to enjoy
being with her. The visits get harder
each time because things change as people age and I think there is a certain
amount of grief that comes along with facing those changes. Still, I am thankful that we get to spend
some time with her and it will be good to hug her knowing that each day is
precious.
November 15, 2017
We have slept in three different homes and three different beds in the
last three days. Every time I woke up
last night (which was often), I couldn’t remember where I was. Sunday night we were in Staunton, Monday we
were in Laurel Fork, and Tuesday we were in Georgia at my grandmother’s
house. From the time I was a child well
into my adult years, anytime I spent the night at my grandparents I always felt
a sense of tremendous peace. It was
something tangible that I recognized. I
can remember being stressed and strained and crawling into bed at their house
and thinking about how I always felt safe and loved there. I remember that feeling well but no longer
experience it. Now when I go to my
grandma’s house, I feel some stress and sadness and I wake often at night
partly because I can hear her stirring, unable to completely settle down, and
partly because I know that ultimately now I am responsible for her. I don’t begrudge the roll that I now
play. She has given so much to me over
the years that I can never give back to her enough. My struggle comes in knowing best how to give
back to her. To those on “the outside”
it may seem like an easy choice, but there are so many things to consider,
including my respect for her desires that I must somehow balance with her
safety and well-being. My grandparents
were always “public figures” in a small-town way. With my grandpa being a pastor and my
grandmother a pastor’s wife who took her roll very seriously, my brother and I
and later my two children always had to “share” her with members of the church
and community. My grandparents weren’t
perfect but they had hearts of gold and a genuine love for people and their
love, dedication and care for other people was about as perfect as any human
can be. Many times, they opened their
home to allow others to live with them.
They transported people who had no vehicles. They shared their food and belongings with
those who had less. They physically
cared for others young and old when they were in ill health or unable to care
for themselves. They were the first at
the hospital when someone was going to have an operation or had to be admitted
for care, even when the closest hospital was a hundred miles away and even when
it was the dead of winter in Alaska. I
saw my grandparents leave the care of their own aging parents in the hands of
others as they lived out their calling four thousand miles away in Alaska. I saw them put that distance between
themselves and their only child and two grandchildren in order to go where they
felt they were being called and serve where they felt they were supposed to
serve. We always knew our grandparents
deep love for us and their willingness to do anything they could for us that
didn’t keep them from what they felt was their spiritual calling. In spite of their dedication to the church, hey
were able to manage so that we always felt special, loved, and cared for well by
them. I do remember once Alissa got into
an argument with a little girl that my grandmother had kept since she was a
baby. The girl was a bit older than
Alissa and told her that our grandmother was her Nan too. Alissa, being only about three or four years
old argued with her and said that she was her Nan and not the other little
girl’s. The heated argument was full of
passion on both sides. I eventually had
to take Alissa aside and explain to her that while Nan was not blood related to
the little girl, in her mind, Nan was her grandmother and we had to share Nan
with others. It was a difficult thing to
do at times, sharing our grandparents with so many people in so many ways. At times we dealt well with sharing and other
times not so well. My difficulty has
come more recently with folks who feel that my grandmother is as much “theirs”
as she is mine and it was only when I stepped back and remembered that I have
shared my grandparents my entire life and that they have not been “just mine”
that I began to receive the grace it took to overlook the hurt caused by the
uninformed and misguided blunders of those who caused some problems for us
because they didn’t understand what we were doing or why we were doing it in
regard to my grandmother’s care and well-being.
These folks were the reason I stopped sharing details publicly. I had been sharing some details on Facebook
so that the “family” my grandparents had created for themselves literally
across the United States would be able to be supportive and understanding as
things changed for my grandma and for all of us. But some people took what they read, twisted
it to their own interpretation, went behind our backs and manipulated the
situation by contacting a local church and pastor who went right along with
their plan, leaving the family members out and creating a lot of problems for
us to try to reverse once we found out what was going on. The situation was handled, the folks who in
their own mind were doing good but caused confusion and distress for my
grandmother have backed off, my heart has stopped hurting over the incident,
and eight months later I am able to see where I have allowed the whole event to
bring growth even though my attitudes due to the hurt and betrayal I felt in
the beginning kept me from that growth for a while. So, here I am eight months later, at my
grandma’s house for the third time since that event, trying to find the balance
between her physical safety and well-being and her desire to remain independent
and at home. Each time I see her, her
ability to think clearly and reason gets more and more difficult for her. If we had unlimited resourced for her, the
answer would be simple. I would insist
on full time assistance but the finances do not allow for that and for her to
spend freely and live the way she is used to living. She understandably does not want to give up
her home and come to live with us. She
is unable to drive anymore and unable to manage her own finances which
complicates things for her and frustrates her.
I will admit that the last two times I have been here I have been so
stressed and so tense, feeling as if I was on trial with the church related “family” members my
grandparents created for themselves over the years, and feeling like no matter
what I did for my grandmother, it wouldn’t please her or those who feel it
their duty to involve themselves so deeply in her life. This time I have come in with the attitude
that I am doing the best I can for my grandmother with the limited resources
that we have (although we are blessed that those resources are more than what
many of our elderly in this country have) and that I am approaching her care
with respect and dignity for her abilities that she still has even as those abilities
decline. I come into it this time aware
that I can please no one in this particular scenario and that outsiders who
feel like they are family, neighbors, friends, church members, extended family
members and even my grandmother will not be happy with any choice that I make
because they are not able to see the big picture nor or they able to understand
the limitations with which I must contend while I try to keep grandma has happy
and comfortable as possible.
I come into this knowing that the story line that is being written does not meet anyone’s ideals, including my own or my grandmother’s, and all will be left disappointed and that sometimes the reality of life’s story lines are not fairy tales and do not have the type of happy ending that we are programmed to expect. Within the confusion of the less than ideal story line of life, there are lessons, moments of clarity, and opportunities for intimacy. It may not always be exactly what we want, but it is what we have.
November 19, 2017I come into this knowing that the story line that is being written does not meet anyone’s ideals, including my own or my grandmother’s, and all will be left disappointed and that sometimes the reality of life’s story lines are not fairy tales and do not have the type of happy ending that we are programmed to expect. Within the confusion of the less than ideal story line of life, there are lessons, moments of clarity, and opportunities for intimacy. It may not always be exactly what we want, but it is what we have.
We are home. Home. I am happy and at peace to be here.
We had a good visit with my grandma.
We stayed four nights and three full days. I was able to take care of some of the
business I needed to attend to for her and the rest of the time we spent just
getting her meals and spending time with her.
We took a couple of hours and went to a local auction about five minutes
away from her house. She had at first
said she would go with us, but then decided not to go so we made it short and
got home early to spend time with her.
We would sit down in the evenings and watch episodes of The Waltons with
Nan. I think she agreed the first time
because she was being courteous. I think
she was a little put out to not watch her Gaither DVD, which is her nightly
ritual from which she does not deter. At
this point in her life, everything is the same and she likes it that way
because when things are different, she gets confused. She did enjoy The Waltons and at the end of
that episode, Olivia sang an old folk song I did not know I asked Nan if she
knew it and she got excited and said, “Oh yes!”
Thereafter, we watched The Waltons every evening with Nan and while I
know she enjoyed it, I am sure she was happy to get back to her Gaither tapes
once we left. Mike did a lot of yard
work for Nan while we were there. She
likes everything to be immaculate. While
I have watched her strive for perfection her entire life, I never realized
until recent years how much of that was because she is afraid of what others
think. Even now, she obsesses over her lawn
“because of what the neighbors might think” even when a lot of the neighbors
obviously don’t care at all and even if they did, would understand that she is
an 88-year-old woman unable to do everything for herself. Sometimes as people age and their mind starts
to get weak, the mind begins to focus on certain things and they can’t let go
of those thoughts. Of course, we all do
that to some extent, but the things that can become monumental to an elderly
person we don’t always understand. Nan’s
yard is extremely important to her. Her
“standing” in the neighborhood (although the neighborhood is just working-class
folks, some who don’t care a bit about what their yard looks like) is extremely
important to her as is what her yard and home look like. I also know that she grew up during the World
War II era and her generation set very high standards generally speaking. At any rate, the yard is a constant source of
worry for her, in spite of the fact we pay for someone to come in and mow it,
trim the bushes and my cousin who is her care giver also is forced into the
roll of taking care of the lawn due to my grandmother’s constant fretting about
it. Mike trimmed limbs, chopped up
leaves and blew them off the yard, mowed the yard that didn’t need mowed, and
trimmed the bushes. She then wanted him
to go and do the neighbor’s yard, because to her, it looked bad and it because
it was an extension of her yard, she felt it made her yard look bad as well. (He didn’t do the neighbor’s yard, of course,
but it was a constant source of worry to my grandmother.) I kept meals on the table for us and my
grandmother is used to eating her meals at exactly the same time every day 8am,
Noon and 5 pm. We are not used to eating
on a schedule or eating three meals a day but we did so to keep her in her
routine and make her happy. It seemed
like just as soon as I got everything prepared and we had eaten and cleaned up,
it was time to do it all again. We had
taken beef and some veggies as well as a few canned goods with us. My grandmother worked a lot outside the home
when my mom was a little girl and later she was so involved in church
activities and various odd jobs that she mostly relied on processed and quick
foods. As a child being raised either in
a homestead setting or on a farm, I thought it tremendous fun to go to Nan’s
house (when they lived close to us before moving back to Alaska) because I
could eat all those quick processed foods, have snacks I wasn’t allowed at
home, eat candy which I was rarely allowed at home and chew gum which I was not
allowed to do. Still, Nan’s favorite is
a quick bite from McDonalds or Wendy’s.
She will admit that she would rather eat out than eat at home. We did go out to eat with her on Friday
night. We met my brother and his wife
and my Aunt and Uncle drove in from Ringgold, about 45 minutes away. It was Mike’s 57th birthday and I
made a homemade carrot cake for him. We
had a nice time visiting. We said my
grandma was the celebrity when we went out to eat. Folks that knew her kept coming by to give
her a hug. One thing I did with my
grandmother was to sit down and begin to write down a few of her “stories” We
did not get very far with it, but I hope when I go back in a couple of months
that we can get some more of them down on paper. As she told her stories, she jumped around in
time and it was a little bit hard to follow her. I would stop her and ask
questions about the time line of events so that I could try to keep it
straight. The last couple of years have
been hard for me as I didn’t want to accept my grandmother’s decline, I worried
too much about other folks who didn’t understand and were trying to interject
their own agenda into our lives, and I wanted to try to “fix” everything for
her and make it “right”. Trips to visit her
were filled with stress as I tried to find the perfect solutions for her care
and well-being while remaining respectful of her right to be independent. This trip I went knowing there are no
solutions that will make everything all better and the best we can do is take
one day at a time and not worry about any outside judgments. Because of my attitude and my own peace, the
trip was a good one. We had a nice
visit, we accomplished things that needed to be accomplished, Nan enjoyed our
company and we enjoyed hers and all those things that I can’t make better, I
just accepted.
On our way home, we stopped in Ringgold and had a cup of coffee and a
good visit with my Aunt Jane and my Uncle Luke (brother and sister to Momma
Helen). It was so good to be able to sit
down and spend time with them. I had not
seen Uncle Luke in a couple of years.
Our trip home was uneventful and we arrived back in Laurel Fork before
dark. Mike went to the barn to work for
about an hour and I started laundry, put away our things from the trip, and
then fixed us a grilled cheese sandwich for supper. Since I don’t need to be in Staunton to watch
the kids Monday, Mike and I will be able to alter our routine. We usually head back North on Sunday
afternoons but we will be staying through the first of the week and then
heading back to Staunton in time for the Thanksgiving meal at the family farm
on Thursday. I am very much looking
forward to a few days here in South West Virginia.
We got ready and went to church this morning. It was so good to see the smiling faces of
new friends and I enjoyed the visiting preacher. We have heard several of the pastors that
rotate and fill in (since the church is without a pastor) but this was the
first time this pastor had been there.
He was young and a chaplain at a Presbyterian University. I enjoyed his sermon, a reminder that even in
life’s toughest storms we can continue to have faith that our purpose in life
remains as does God’s presence in our lives.
When we got home, I made dinner for us.
The house smelled so good as I fried apples, potatoes, steaks and cooked
up some mountain cabbage. After I got
the kitchen cleaned, I took a walk to “the back forty” where I could get a view
of Buffalo Mountain from the highest point on our property. All of the leaves were off the trees. It had been a couple of weeks since I had a
chance to hike. It was good to walk
again. It was windy and actually pretty
cold, especially when I got to the top but I am glad that I went.
Later in the evening, we noticed a man from down the road was hunting
deer on the property across the road from us.
From our sun porch we could see the meadow and there was no evidence of
activity from deer, a fact verified when we never heard any shots from the
hunter. However, the scenario struck me
as extremely funny. To the front of our
house which faces east, all was still and to the rear of our house, facing
west, the deer were active. We could see
the hunter from the front of the house waiting patiently with not even a
sighting of deer. Behind our house from
the kitchen window, we watched a graceful doe just a few yards from our home
and in a grove of pines making her way carefully but quickly. She hesitated for a moment and then jumped
the fence and went into our pasture, heading for the springs. She acted as if she was aware of something or
someone in the woods behind her and I made mention that there better not be any
hunters on our property. About a minute
later we saw more movement when a buck appeared. He wasted no time jumping the fence into the
pasture with nose to the ground following the scent of the doe ahead of him.