Well, I know it's not just me, because tonight at sorority, Holly (our president) started out with a prayer for all the women in our chapter who are in a rough place. And there's a bunch of us.
She talked about being authentic before God. If you've had a crappy day, tell Him about it. He knows anyway, right?
I try hard to keep things sweet and happy around here, but sometimes it's near impossible. And I get down, and need that swift kick (the rest of that comic shows Calvin wondering why business is so bad when practically everyone he knows needs one.)
April, usually one of my favorite months, was hard on us. Clay's dad died on the 8th ( I just haven't been able to blog about that yet, but I will soon) and grandma (age 96) has been in and out of the hospital -- she's there now, and has been since last Tuesday. Her potassium and sodium levels are out of whack, she's had a UTI, some little strokes and probably has the beginnings of Parkinson's. She is completely miserable, won't eat and wants to go back to the Lutheran Home. So her doctor (who is also my sister's boss) said this morning that maybe the best thing to do is to quit drugging her up, let her go home, keep her comfortable and just let her go peacefully. As much as I know this is the right thing, and what she wants, it is so hard to deal with. But I'm trying.
I tried calling my aunt in Georgia today; I hope she is on her way up here, because gram asked for her many times today.
This past weekend, I went away with my college girlfriends, not without a lot of guilt. Before I left, I sat with grandma Thursday evening, and she asked me to sing some hymns, and she sang along in her thin, quavering voice. Singing "What a Friend We Have in Jesus" with grandma was a good moment. It was a kick in the pants moment. Yes, it hurts that she is in such a condition. It seems unfair that we'll have another death in the family so soon. But we've done the right thing. It's what our parents would have done, I know, and I think they would be proud that we followed their example. My dad took breakfast to his mother -- my pope-resembling grandma -- every day when she was at the Lutheran Home after her stroke, just to make sure she ate a little and had a visitor. My mom took care of dad's parents until they died, and then took care of her own until she died. You'll never regret doing the right thing --they lived that.
So God, I've had a crappy month. But thank you for those kicks that remind me that life is good. Hard, but good.
Peace(I edited out a couple of pretty disparaging paragraphs that I'm a little ashamed I wrote, although they are accurate. So if this post doesn't flow well, that's why.)
I absolutely loved Wicked!! It was fantastic!! I want to see it a million times over. Haha!
ReplyDeleteYeah, it's a lot. But you're grounded and you're right.
ReplyDeleteMy dad took care of his mom until she passed, even though his brothers were far better placed to do so. He took care of the great aunt who abused him as a child, because he felt it his duty. (And even though when he told her of his own prognosis, all she could worry about is how alone she might be if he went first.)
But you know? He had no regrets in the end. His brothers? They'll have to account for it some day.
I'm so sorry about Clay's dad's passing. You'll all be in my thoughts.