Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Rainbows and butterflies

     Anytime I see a rainbow, I can't help but think of my maternal grandmother.  She died when I was 21, but she left an imprint on my heart that will never fade.  Today, I didn't even see a real rainbow; it was just a picture, but it still reminded me of her illness and the promises of God.  When my Grammy (her choice I promise) was ill, we would drive a certain back road to get from her house to the hospital she was in that was about an hour and a half away.  It seemed like every time we went, we saw at least one rainbow, maybe more.  We would cry and praise God for His promises.  We knew her death was only a matter of time, and at that point, we were torn between wanting to hang on to her and knowing it would be more merciful to allow her to let go.  I've always loved her in a special way that I can't explain, and her death was scary to me.  I asked God a lot of questions about why she had to suffer so much, and eventually He showed me the answer.
     My grandmother was a wonderful lady.  She was not, however, a great Christian example in her life.  She was of the luke warm class.  I do not say this disrespectfully;  I am simply being honest.  She went to church, usually.  She taught Sunday school when she was on an upswing.  It was obvious she was saved, but she did not serve God to the fullest.  When I was little, I thought she was the most magnificent person in the world.  She always paid attention to me, gave me anything I wanted, took me anywhere I wanted to go.  She was a southern lady in all respects; she was the kind of lady who wore pantyhose with her dress shorts in 110 degree Georgia heat.  She never left her house without putting on her make up and fixing her hair.  She smoked constantly.  She was silly.  She made up songs constantly (a trait I tease my mother about as well).  She drank coffee when it was so hot outside I thought I would pass out.  She taught me to swim (though not well).  She was refined and raw at the same time.  She was artistic (and tried in vain to make me so).  She made the best lasagna I have ever eaten.  She was irreverent at times.  She was feisty and full of life.  She and my mother taught me to shop.  She died her hair blond until it turned white, and then she convinced herself it was blonde naturally.  To me, she was perfect.  As I grew, I realized that she was not the kind of Christian I wanted to be.  In turn, she wanted me to be a better Christian than she had been, and she told me so.  I'm glad.  My grandmother was a diabetic from the time she was in her early forties until her death in her late sixties.  I thought for so long that she took great care of herself and her illness because she ate at certain times, always checked her sugar, always carried a little can of orange juice in her purse.  If only I had known then what I know now about controlling blood sugar levels I could have helped her extend and improve her life towards the end.  But alas...
     By her last year on earth, she had been on dialysis for 7 years, she needed heart surgery (they couldn't do much due to the shape it was in), and her worse fears came true.  I don't know if every diabetic fears amputation to the extent my grandmother did, but I remember even when I was young that she would tell us to never let them "cut off my legs".  She told us she would rather die.  She told my grandfather that, and when she was in surgery for her heart, a surgeon came out and told him that what she needed was an amputation of one leg.  My grandfather, God bless him, could not make the decision to keep the leg that would kill her in a few days, so he went against her wishes and signed for an amputation.  I believe this decision haunted him for the rest of his life (he died almost exactly 8 months after her).  That partial amputation of one leg eventually led to the amputation of both legs up to the thigh and a great deal of tissue removal that soon followed due to bed sores.  It was horrible.  My poor mother, who tried her best to tend to her mother and father while actually living over 500 miles away suffered from the trauma for a long time afterwards.  And she's the strongest person I know.  I have to protect myself from the sadness that threatens to consume me once again when I think of how horribly she suffered for the last 6 months of her life.  Therefore, I can't tell you in any more detail what she went through.  However, through her suffering I saw the most amazing thing.
     While my grandmother was not always the best Christian example in her life, she was one of the most effective in her death.  Not one time did she feel sorry for herself.  She fought hard for as long as we asked her to do so.  Eventually, even my grandpa allowed her to let go.  She never got mad at him for letting the doctors take her legs.  She never made me feel guilty when I visited for not being there more.  Even while she was losing every bit of pride and control of her own body, she did everything she could to make it easier for us.  Isn't that amazing?  She lived in severe pain, knowing she was going to eventually die, but she stayed steady for us.  I asked my mother later on, in a little anger I'll admit, why she had to suffer so much and other people die so easily.  "Because God knew she could."  Simple, huh?  My grandfather followed her in his sleep.  "Massive heart attack", they said.  "Never felt a thing."  Why?  I still wondered.  I know he had suffered enough, with his wife, but why weren't the roles reversed?  I know the answer.  Marylynn had a chance to do in death what I believe she wished she had done in life.  She showed us that to remain steady in your faith in the worse circumstances you can imagine, will leave an impact on those around you.  My father asked her once before we left to come home if she was ready.  Was she ready to meet Jesus?  She wasn't talking much then, but she didn't hesitate for a moment when she said yes.  I heard her myself, and I know she meant it.  She lived for two more weeks after that, but she knew her time was soon.  Her husband, my Papa, couldn't have gone out like that in the same circumstances.  He would have wallowed in self pity, been mean, ranted, raved, you name it.  That is who he was.  Her death changed him a little though.  It softened him.  I can see now that their deaths both served a purpose in my life.  I learned so much about God and His love for us through my grandmother's willingness to suffer because she loved us so much.  How much more was the pain of the  cross?  unimaginable.
     In so many ways, she helped make me who I am today.  She molded my mother in a special relationship, who in turn molded me.  She built my confidence when no one else could, and she used what life she had left, to show the world true strength.  I don't know why I even felt like I should write this, and I'm not sure how it fits in my blog.  I'm just thankful that at the last minute, Dean and I decided to take part of her name (and my mother's passed down from her) to use in naming Tinker Belle.  And now that I think of it, maybe that's where Tinker's feisty little attitude comes from at times.  Here is what I pray when I think of my Grammy:
     "God, thank you for giving Grammy the opportunity to show her devotion to You.  Help my family to have learned to serve You throughout our lives, because death may come soon.  I praise You for the time you gave me with her, and while I sometimes feel sad that she didn't get to meet my children, thank You for life everlasting where we will meet again.  Help me keep her memory real in my heart.  Thank You for Your promises in life to never leave us or forsake us.  Thank You for rainbows that bring that promise to my mind.  You're a majestic in ways I cannot express and the beauty You give us is humbling.  Reflect holiness in my life, God.  I love You, I love You, I love You."  

When I picture her now, I see her dancing on those long legs that she has once again.  Smiling.  Pain free.  Redeemed.

Friday, April 13, 2012

Letting go...(a little)

     I'm a self professed control freak when it comes to my kids' doctor appointments.  However, taking the first six weeks of the school year off, and missing every time one of my three kids has been sick has taken a toll on my leave days (meaning I only have a few and that is after some very generous friends donated me some of theirs).  So, for the first time ever, I will be sending the twins to a "well baby" check up with someone else.  Granted, my mother is the one taking them, and I know she will ask any questions I give her (I hope the doctor doesn't see my mom and think he's getting out of anything).  If it can't be me (or Dean of course) to take them, I'm glad it's her, because I'm a lot like her in my tendency to ask too many questions out of a fear of not asking enough.  It still makes me sad though.  I know Tank will get his feelings her when the smiling nurse gives him a shot, and Tinker Belle will be devastated by the pain and cry on and off for a few minutes.  I know that the appointment falls right before nap time and that the trip over will make them fall asleep and get them off schedule.  I wish I were going, and honestly, I'm not completely convinced I won't change my mind and do so.  More than anything, though, I think this is a test for me.  Am I capable of letting go of that control?  I'll wait until after the appointment to finish this post...
     Well, I did in fact let my mom and my sister in law take the twins to their check up.  You know what?  The world didn't end, and I don't feel horribly judged by anyone.  Luckily, they didn't get shots this time.  Tinker Belle is still measuring tiny, and Tank is still measuring pretty big.  My mother asked plenty of questions, and they didn't wreck just because I wasn't in the car.  In truth, this was one of the least stressful appointments for the twins.  Even though I packed the diaper bag and laid out their clothes, it seemed like a lot less work to prepare for the visit.  This may be because they are getting older, I'm getting better at packing up their stuff, or (oh, yeah) the fact that I didn't actually have to get them dressed (smiles).  It all worked out fine in the end.  I don't know if I secretly think there's an award in a doctor's office for the mother who accompanies her children to every  appointment, or if I just want them to know that I am the mom (which equals the most important person in each child's life and therefore you must respect me....).  I truly don't know what drives me to be the one there asking a huge list of mostly ridiculous questions.  It was good for me though to send them with my mom and sis in law.  I learned that something like that can be let go, and I'm the same mother I was before.
     For those of you who understand my sick obsession, here's my prayer for us:  "Father, help me to always remember that You are all I need, and whether I am reading to accept it or not, You are all my children need as well.  Help me to realize that it is okay to let others help me with my children.  Thank You for people who want to do so.  Thank You for surrounding my family with others who love us sincerely.  Help me to let go of things that are not important.  Help me to let go of my mommy ego.  I will praise You forever."

Monday, April 9, 2012

Shoulder talking

     You know how on old cartoons a character's conscience was portrayed by two little versions of them on their shoulders fighting back and forth?  Well, I've had some interesting arguments from other people in my world lately that reminded me of just that.  There have been a few angels, and as is usually the case, there have been a few devils as well.  I'm not literally calling anyone an angel or a devil, but I think you get the idea.
    Here's my story:
     *enter devil on shoulder*I ran into a lady the other day who I used to know.  She inquired about my family's well being, admired my children individually, and proceeded to tell me she "just couldn't believe (I) went back to work after having (my) twins and that she just couldn't bare the thought of it.  She didn't know how I did it.  Who kept them all every day anyway? etc. etc. etc."  You'd be proud of me.  I didn't get defensive at all, and honestly, I just didn't answer some of the questions she asked.  I do not hide the fact that I work mainly because I need to do so financially, but I don't know that the reason has all that much to do with having children.  I most definitely would have quit working permanently when I had my children if that were an option, but I cannot guarantee I would be any less crazy.  Honestly, I'd probably be even more crazy than I am now if I were a stay at home mom.  I love the idea of it, but it's a life that is stressful in a way I can't explain to those who have never experienced it.  Anyway, I didn't feel the need to tell her why I went back to work, which is largely due to the fact that I enjoy being able to have things such as electricity and food without struggling horrifically to do so.  I simply explained the sitter arrangement, said yes, I did in fact go to work again, and dismissed myself.  I was pretty proud though.  I know good and well that God must have shut down part of my brain so that I didn't make a scene in the line of a public establishment, but I patted myself on the back a little mentally, too.  I had at least let God take control of the situation, and he did a great job of keeping my mouth in check.  I refused to defend myself to someone who did not understand my choices.  As a mother, it is very difficult not to defend my choices.  I strive to make the best "mommy" decisions I can, and the fact that I'm personally torn about the idea myself makes me even more insecure and defensive about it.  Life went on.  I shook my head at the situation, refused to obsess over whether any meanness was intended, held my head up high, and enjoyed being with my kids that day.
     *enter angel on shoulder*I ran into a former acquaintance from high school who I stay in touch with on face book at an egg hunt in my home town.  She complimented my post baby physique and told me she admired me for being able to "do it all", which I think all you ladies can understand as a mommy compliment.  She made me feel like all the hard work I do is appreciated, though unseen, because she knows what being a mother consists of and can do the general math of adding two little babies to a family of three.  I accepted her compliments as best as I could.  I think most people now are bad at being complimented.  I am pretty convinced that I do not do the mommy thing all that flawlessly, and feel the need to point out all my flaws when complimented.  She will never know how much she encouraged me.
     *enter devil on shoulder* I ran into another lady I used to know from the same place as the first lady (weird all the people I'm running into lately, huh?) on the same day that I ran into the angel.  She, as a new grandmother, inquired about my children enough to solicit an inquiry about her new grandchild (I would've asked anyway).  The conversation (in the middle of the grocery store) led on and on and eventually landed on the topic of if I had gone back to work.  I replied that yes I had, and she seemed very shocked at the answer.  "How do you do it?!?" asked she.  "I don't know.  I just do." I replied.  She goes on, "Well who keeps your kids?"  I answered with the list of those who keep them.  (In case I have never actually explained this, here it goes.  My mother keeps my children one day a week, my godmother keeps them two days a week, and my in laws keep them two days a week.  We try to keep the days consistent for the ease of all involved, but we are all really good at working together to make sure everyone is organized and doesn't miss an appointment or anything, so the organization of it all can be stressful at times.  They all come to my house to keep my children, which is good for my children since they are in their own homes. It is also good for the sitters since everything they need is at hand.)  I didn't explain to this lady that my sitters all came to my house simply because I didn't think to do so.  She responded, "Well, I am the only one who keeps my grandchild because WE don't want HIM to be passed around too much to EVERYONE and get off schedule."   I smiled blankly...."Well, ahem, I can understand that.  That is exactly the reason why all of MY sitters VOLUNTEERED to come to MY house to keep them in THEIR environment."  I'm not proud of the crack in my confidence here that caused me to feel the need to defend myself, and I have since repented of it.  I couldn't help myself though, in that moment of flesh, because in my mind, she was attacking the fact that I have several different people keep my children rather than just one person.  Everyone who keeps my children loves them unconditionally.  I know that my children have their needs met, are hugged and kissed, and are spending time with someone who will be important in their lives.  I consider my baby sitter situation to be one of best biggest blessings from God at this moment in my life.  Therefore, I defended the situation.  I shouldn't have; I know that now.  God tells us that he is our defender, and who am I to think I could just in and handle the thing?  I'm sorry I let you all down.  I feel like I should have held my head up, known that I was doing the best I can in life and right with God in the decisions I made.
     I have several angels on my shoulder in life.  Sissy is naturally an encourager, my mom is my biggest fan, and all the friends I have close to me are the kind to not only let you know everything is okay but change a diaper while they are doing it.  I also have you ladies who encourage me either on here, through email, or on my face book.  I'm especially thankful for S. Paul and her sister C. Burgan who are my mommy blog cheerleaders.  They really help me keep this going through encouragement.  Funny though, the devils on my shoulder leave me shaken, and Satan certainly knows when to send them my way.  Pray for me ladies, and I'll pray for you.
Here is my prayer:  "Thank you, God, for being our defender.  Thank You for encouraging us in our spirits as well as through Godly people you send our way, and sweet strangers who pass through our lives.  Help us to keep in mind that no decision we make will be approved of by everyone, and that we are not here to make the world happy, but to glorify You.  Help us to keep Your glory our focus in life.  Help us to love our children like we should, and help us to love both the angels and the devils that perch on our shoulders.  We praise You."