Finally read my mail...

So, I opened my mail tonight.  Now, many of you are thinking... "So?  I do that every day.  What's blog-worthy about opening your mail?"  Well, let me try and explain.

You see, I usually open my mail about once a week.  I don't get that much each day, and given that most of the time I spend with my mail involves the pre- and post-opening activities, it's much more efficient to wait until the stack is of reasonable size before opening it.  Let's be honest, there's just not much that comes in the mail that can't wait a few days - if it was that urgent, it wouldn't come in the mail to start with.

But the past month has been anything but "usual."  With mom's time in the hospital and death, I just never got around to it.  I would see the pile continue to grow each day, but wouldn't be in the right frame of mind to open it.  So it sat... until today.

It was an interesting read.  I started by dividing it into 3 categories: sympathy cards, tax info, and other mail.  Most of the "other" mail was bills (don't worry, all my bills are auto-paid, so nothing was late).  Not much unexpected there.  The tax info was... well.. tax info.  It's now filed and waiting for the rest to come in.

The sympathy cards were the biggest part, and the most interesting.  If you've ever worried about finding "the right card," quit worrying.  I can tell you from experience that the most important thing is the return address.  What?  Did you read that right?  the return address?!?  Yes.  The return address.  You see, what matters most is that people took the time to let you know they cared and are praying.  And you find out who those people are by the fact that they sent a card at all. 

The second most important thing is the quick note written inside.  I can't speak for everyone, but I rarely read the "official" (pre-printed) words in the card.  There are only so many sympathy cards out there, and duplicates are almost inevitable.  In addition, there are no "perfect words" that can be said.  What matters is that you took the time to write something just from you, not from the card company.  It doesn't even have to be a whole sentence, just a word or two is enough.

The end of the card pile was especially interesting.  About 2/3rd of the way through, I ran into a couple of birthday cards, which was nice.  Then, as I got to the very end, I ran into Christmas cards.  Some were actually "New Years" cards, and some were the late coming cards that I hadn't opened yet.  That was really nice.  It's always fun to read Christmas cards.

So, as I look back, I think this was probably a really boring post.  No deep thoughts, no new revelations.  Just an excessively long status update.  But, I've already typed all this, so I'll post it anyway.

Oh, and for those of you who sent me a card... thanks.

Waiting for the Right Time

Had a good day today.  Shopping at WalMart, time at dad's house while Rachel was at a friend's house, shopping at Lowes, and some work around the house late in the afternoon.  Got lots done - much more than is normal for me.  It's like I have to prove that I can still accomplish tasks without mom around.  She was always so much more motivated than me to get things done.

In fact, today at dad's house, I had to keep stopping myself from starting certain tasks.  You see, I remember how much better I felt after I would go through some part of the house and re-organize it.   

Several times within an hour, I wanted to start going through the drawers in one of the bathrooms at dad's house - to go through and pull out all the stuff that doesn't need to be there anymore.  I wanted to change that small part of the house to reflect mostly dad instead of mostly mom.  But I stopped myself.  And that was a good thing.

You see, it took me several months to get to the point that I was ready to do that with Michell's stuff.  And dad has to come to his own decision about when he is ready to go though mom's stuff.  She was my mom, but his wife.  He is the one who has to live in that house, and he is the one who has to make decisions about when and what he wants to cull.

So, I'm waiting.  Waiting for the time when dad is ready - when he either cleans it out himself or asks someone for help with it.  Waiting for him to be (more) at peace with both his loss and his life.

He'll get there.  Just like I did.

What I really want to say is... zzzzzz

I cannot believe how tired I was yesterday and am again today.  It's not a lack of sleep - many have asked, and I am sleeping well.  I have not needed any medications, rather I have been able to go to bed around my normal time (1130p) and get to sleep before midnight.  I have been able to sleep until at least 6 and usually 7. 

I think I am simply exhausted from the stress of the past 2 weeks.  The week mom was in the hospital, I was home with a very sick little girl (no stress from either of those, right?).  Then this week had all the stress of making decisions regarding mom's services. 

I also had a monumental challenge the past 2 evenings.  While she was here, Michell's mom Sandra did a bunch of laundry for me.  This was extremely kind of her to do.  Unfortunately, along with the girls' laundry bins, she mixed in a bin of clothes which were clean and had been set aside to put away for summer... and she mixed in a bin of clothes which were new from Christmas that I hadn't looked at enough to know what shirts go with what pants.  It was like dumping 20 puzzles together, all of which are solid red, and trying to sort out what pieces go where.  My family room floor still looks like a laundry war zone. 

Funny thing, the laundry challenge was what made me miss mom the most.  I am... shall we say... fashion-sense challenged.  Those of you who have known me a long time might remember the bright yellow shirt and bright red shorts I used to wear together.  Very Ronald McDonald.  Whenever clothes came back that I didn't know how to match, I would call mom.  And she could magically pair things up over the phone - without even seeing them!  Just another example of how she took care of me.

She would be proud of me, though.  It took me about 3 hours the first night, but I finally got Zoe's stuff matched up.  Then Rachel and I, with an hour on Skype with Sandra and 2 more hours together, got 75% of her stuff matched up last night.  Quite an accomplishment for the fashion-challenged me.  I do, however, still have 6 pairs of pajama pants missing their tops.  Anyone need some?

So if you see Rachel or Zoe (or me, for that matter) in an outfit that makes you cringe, just remind yourself that the girls are stuck with me, and let me know so that I don't embarrass them in public... or at least so I don't embarrass them that way.

Take Pictures of the Everyday

Yesterday, my sister and I spent about half a day going through pictures to use in a slide show of mom.  I already knew that mom didn't much like having her picture taken, but what I didn't realize is how often I let her get away with that.  There were even a few years where the Christmas pictures had me and my kids, Steph and her kids, and dad... but no mom.  What were we thinking?

But the more glaring thing that I realized is that while I am pretty good at getting pictures of events, I am lousy at getting pictures of the everyday.  As I went through my pictures, I found that since moving back to Tennessee in 2005, I have more pictures of Michell's parents than of my own.  Why?  Because when we saw Michell's parents, it was an event; we saw my parents every week, so that was just everyday life.

The good thing is that between Stephanie and me, we found plenty of pictures of mom - really good ones.  But from here on, I plan to carry a camera with me more often on "normal" days, so that I can capture more of our everyday life.

Finding A New Normal... Again

I thought this blog was essentially dead.  I had pretty much stopped posting here, probably because I didn't have the need for it.  Life was going well - joyful and fulfilling.  With less struggle, 10-second Facebook posts were more the norm than deep, introspective blog posts.  And then...

Most of you alreday know.  Mom passed away.  One week with her "not feeling good" and then a week in the hospital and then... home to heaven.  And the similarities to Michell's death just 3 years ago are overwhelming.  Both started out thinking it was just a muscle pull.  Both ended up in the hospital with bad bruising and extreme pain.  Both diagnosed with leukemia.  Neither surviving to start chemo.  Both having cerebral hemmorages leading to death.  I can still remember telling myself that this time (with mom) was going to be different.  Not so much.

Oh, and by the way... Worst. Birthday. Ever.  That's right, if you didn't know, mom died on my birthday.

So now I sit at home, and at times the silence is so incredibly LOUD.  I can feel how quiet it is.  It's opressive.  The girls are both in bed, both sleeping well.  The TV is off.  And I miss calling to talk to my mom.  It's one of the things that I started doing right after Michell died - I would call mom every night.  I doubt I missed 10 nights in the past 3 years.  Recently, the call had moved earlier to right after I got the girls in bed.  Last week, it emphasized that mom was in the hospital - she wasn't at home for me to call.  Now, that one simple daily phone call seems to stand for all that is wrong with the world today.  I can't talk to my mom.

I know it will get better.  I've been down this road before.  God promises to change mourning into dancing and sorrow into joy... and He does.  It's happened in my life over the past 3 years, and I know it will happen again.  I know that I will find a new normal... again.

But at this moment, I'm just hearing the overwhelming silence, and wishing I could call my mom.

Doing Hard Things

Been thinking alot lately about my personal discipline. It's not all that great, to be honest, and I want it to get better. But let's be honest, sitting on the couch thinking about having better personal discipline (while eating chips, drinking a soda, and watching TV) really doesn't get you very far - it's about actually getting up and doing something that matters. I know myself very well - for years my mantra has been "never put off to tomorrow what can be put off until next week." Admittedly not the best example to set for my girls...

Life is busy - we all know that - and it can run you down. By the time I get the girls to bed at night, I am frequently worn out and ready to check out for some down time. Is that wrong? No, I don't think so. So what's my problem? Once I start to check out, I never check back in. I sit to rest, but my rest period doesn't end until bedtime. So now I am challenging myself to get back up and do something... and it's hard.

So I heard this "do something hard" phrase a few months ago. I think it was a mother-daughter event that some friends of mine attended. I kept seeing that phrase over and over, and decided that I would adopt it into my own life. It's strange what we think of as being "hard" to do - most of my stuff is really minor, it's just stuff I don't like to do so I try to put it off until it takes care of itself (my success rate in this area is very high).

For example, I don't think it's wrong to leave the dishes in the sink until there's enough for a full dishwasher load. (Remember - we use paper plates and cups almost every meal, so it takes 2-3 days for us to accumulate enough dishes to fill the dishwasher.) I do, however, think that it's wrong to leave the dishes in the sink and hope that my babysitter decides to wash them for me because they're taking over the kitchen and leaving her in fear for her life.

So how am I doing? Pretty well on Focus #1. I've not been in the best health over the past few years - 4 surgeries (ruptured colon repaired, colostomy reversal, gall bladder removed, hernia repair) - plus my weight has gone back up in the 230s - so I decided to first focus on getting healthier. I've started swimming 1/2 mile 3 days a week, and that's going well. I've chosen to not have an evening snack more than one night a week, and that's going well. But now it's time to add another Focus and do more hard things.

So what about you? Are you doing hard things? Or are you living life on autopilot? Are your (proverbial) dishes piling up, waiting for someone else to handle them? Then join me - and do something hard. So far, it's been worth it.

Moments that Make a Daddy

Had one of those great moments this morning - a moment to make a daddy. Some of you are thinking "What? Doesn't having kids make you a daddy?" No, not really. Just "having children" means you performed the biological function of procreation. Being a daddy implies an intimate relationship, made complete by the presence of joy, care, and love. I became a father (twice over) as my children were born. I am becoming a daddy as I nurture, love, and raise my children.

And while the process is continuous - each and every moment with my children is an opportunity to move closer to (or further from) "daddy" - I also find that there are key moments that come along and allow leaps forward. Some of these moments we know are consequential, like the day I had to tell Rachel that her mommy died. Others seem completely inconsequential, just a part of everyday life... like today's

So what was it? What was this EVENT which helped propel me from "father" in a giant leap toward "daddy"? Well... I cam upstairs to tell Rachel it was time to get dressed for camp, and she said, "Oh, man. I'm thirsty. You didn't give me a drink." My response? I pulled out my "obviously-pretending-to-be-angry" voice and said, "I didn't give you a drink? What do you mean? You never asked for a drink! And you know that when you get breakfast you can get yourself a drink..." Oh, and I was tickling her the whole time. She was laughing so hard she couldn't stand up.

So how do I know that this was one of those quantum-leap events? Because every time I stopped, she asked again and egged me on to do it again. And what do I think of it? I think that for those 5 minutes this morning, I achieved near God-like "daddy" status. And it was awesome.

Speaking of God-like, you do realize that God is more than just "Father" - He is also "Daddy". I think too often we get caught up in the "Our Father" image of God and forget the "My Daddy". In Mark 14:36, Jesus calls to God as "Abba Father". "Abba" is a term that implies intimacy, closeness, and familiarity. And the use of that term is not reserved for Christ alone, Romans 8:15 tells us that we too can call to God in this way.

There are countless articles on the web about the origin of Abba - most tie it back to a term borrowed into Hebrew from Aramaic. What strikes me the most about this term is its construction - it's a word a baby can say. Just like my girls both used to babble "dada" when they were babies, so too could an baby - one who is totally helpless and dependant on others for its care - babble "abba".

So, as we walk through this life, we can babble "Abba" and connect with the Creator of the universe, and like I did this morning, He can work through everyday moments to take quantum leaps from "Our Father" to "My Daddy". And that is truly awesome.