The Best One I Got

Since nobody has really asked how I am handling the recent news of my father-in-law's cancer diagnosis, I'm going to lay it out for you.

While dating my husband to be, I learned really quick how important his family was to him.  One of his brothers went on our first date with us and our third date was a trip to meet his family while they were camping.  His mom was a bit snobbish, but his dad was all smiles and very welcoming.  Until I got to know him, I took his smile as just being happy his 28 year-old son was finally bringing a girl around. 

Dating, we had a very consistent schedule.  Kent came home on Friday and we spent that evening together alone.  On Saturdays, we would go fishing with his parents or hang out at his parent's house.  On Sunday, we had dinner with the family and spent the last few hours together there before he would head back to Wichita or KC for the week.

I got to spend a lot of time with my future in-laws before I knew I'd eventually be part of the family.  I'll save you the pain-staking details of how difficult it was to develop relationships with most of my husband's family.  Not with his dad...that one was always easy.  I won't say he always liked me, but no matter what, he has always treated me with respect and kindness from the very beginning.

Whether I lived by myself or with my grandparents, I was always responsible for myself.  I had nobody in my family to help me.  If my car broke down or needed help with anything, I was on my own to figure things out.  Once I got to know my husband's parents, his dad became my go to person.  I can't tell you how many times I called and he came to my rescue.  Flat tire late at night.  Broke down car.  Broken windows.  Broken faucet.  Needed a place to stay because the weather got bad.  No money for gas to get home.  Help with a sick dog.  Help moving.  Grocery shopping on crutches.  He's the one who helped me out with all of those things and more.  Not only that, but he did it without any expectation that I owed him anything in return.

Outside of my experience with my husband to be at the time, my father-in-law was my only other example of unconditional love during that time of my life and he has continued to be.

He was also my first real picture of how a father is supposed to love their children.  It took me a lot longer to see it for what it was.  His kids were all grown by the time I met him and the adult child/parent relationship isn't always as obvious as little child/parent relationship.

I think my father-in-law's favorite two titles in life are father and grandfather.  He has four kids and four grandchildren.  He has one son-in-law and two daughters-in-law.  But if you ask him, he'd tell you he has three girls and four boys. 

When I got a new job or promotion, he told me he was proud of me.  When I am excited about something, so is he.

He is one of the few people who can make me laugh till I cry and cry until I laugh.  He's a simple man who doesn't get wrapped up in the latest technology or keeping up with the neighbors.  The man called all computers and all computer programs a "Microsoft."  He always gives me a good political debate where we both think we are right.  I know he's not my dad, but we have a similar hard-headedness. 

He is so matter of fact when telling a story, even when he's wrong, that all you can do is laugh.  One time we were out in the middle of a lake and the fish were biting, we had hit the fisherman's catfish dream.  This young lady had drank a lot of water, floating on water and well...you get the picture.  He dumped out a bucket and insisted it was now my only option.  We laughed so hard on the way home, I was in tears. 

There were two times I remember our conversations went the other way.  The first was on the way to an infectious disease appointment for my husband before we were married.  He was getting incredibly sick, turning pale, clammy, feverish and weak.  Unknown to us at the time, he had been bitten by a tick and had Lyme's.  I was so scared for him, all I could do on the way to the appointment was cry.  My father-in-law told me all about how tough his son was and proceeded to tell me all the wild things he had done as a kid. 

Another long trip we had together was the one after Kent's apartment had burned.  This time, it was my father-in-law was the one who was crying.  I couldn't help but cry along with him.  I don't remember what he said or did that turned us both around, but by the time we reached the half gone apartment, we were both laughing hysterically.

That's my husband and his papa.  My husband is the apple of his dad's eye.  I used to be so jealous of the relationship the two had because I never had a dad like that.  Now, I love watching them together and enjoy seeing the love between them. 

This picture was taken on Mother's Day this year.  When I walked into their house, my father-in-law met me at the door.  He give me a hug and said, "how's my baby girl?"  Even though I knew way before then, I think this was the first time it was solidified in me that the same love he gives to his children was and had always been offered to me too.  It was my first realization that he was the closest thing I'd ever have to a dad and the first time I wanted to savor every second of that feeling.

My father-in-law is a big fisherman/camper kind of guy.  But even this manly man melts with a puppy.  Very few people around me really get my love of pets and need for them to fill that hole in my life from not having children.  Each and every pet I/we've had, he treats just like a child.  He gives them treats, talks to them, loves on them and genuinely treats them like they are part of the family.  I love this about him!  I know without doubt my pets are in good hands when we are on vacation.

I may have seemed to jump from one topic to another here, but the general theme is all the same....my father-in-law is one of the most loving, kind, understanding and lovable people I have ever met.  He is just flat out a decent human being.  I could write so much more about him, but it would all the theme wouldn't change. 

I love him so much.  If you asked me how I feel about his health crisis or how I am doing with it, my answer would be quite simple.  I'm angry!!!!  My heart is breaking.  My anxiety is over the roof.  I want 10, 20, 30 more years to live life with this man who is quite possibly the closest thing I have to a dad.  He's the best, most loving relative I have and I'm heartbroken that he, of all people, has cancer.

The Big C

Prior to this summer, I had only limited experience with the Big C. 

Most of my great-grandparents had all died of random things long before I was old enough to remember them.  A step-great-grandpa, who until his emphysema got so bad he could barely breathe, smoked hand rolled tobacco and eventually succumbed to lung cancer.  Another great-grandma had breast cancer back in the early 1980's when people just didn't talk about that stuff.  She eventually died about 6 years ago at the age of 93 from a second bout of breast cancer she just wasn't strong enough to fight in her declining years.

As I inch closer to my 40's, I am happy to say that have only lost one grandparent.  All of them are 75-80 years old and have no major health problems except some chronic back problems, which I do think they have passed onto me.  I believe one or more of them may have developed diabetes, but in their very late 60s-70s.  My one grandma who died 14 years ago developed lung cancer, but was also a heavy smoker for all but the first 9 years of her life. 

My grandma's death was my first real exposure to cancer.  Since she was only diagnosed with cancer one week before her death, I never saw her live with cancer.  My second experience was when my good friend's mother died of breast cancer a few years ago.  Again, she was diagnosed and died less than a month later. 

The exposure I did have set me up to fear cancer because it always lead to death.  Maybe a silly thought, but it was my only experience.

Through church, I've known several people who have been diagnosed with cancer but nobody I had known terribly well.

In the spring, a good friend of a friend was diagnosed with breast cancer.  While I had great compassion for her, I was still on disconnect.

Then in early summer, a very dear friend was diagnosed for the second time with breast cancer.  Within the same week, another dear friend's husband was diagnosed with colon cancer.  While trying to digest it all and talk through some other issues with another friend, she confided in me that she had just come from a visit with her physician who was concerned about a lump in her breast.  A few weeks later, that friend was diagnosed with breast cancer.

I in no way could possibly understand their side of things, the two are incomparable.  I can only tell you what it was like for me. 

It was miserable.  I struggled to see the "good" God plan in it all.   In fact, I have lived in fear of what I am supposed to learn from all of this.  At times, I even lived with that "who's next" fear.

Unfortunately, I learned all too quickly who was next.  My father-in-law. 

I'm not a doctor and don't pretend to be one.  There is literally nothing I have control over in any of these situations.  I think that makes it even more difficult to not feel shoved in the cancer box.  I mean really, it's been everywhere this summer...like an epidemic around me.  I've said jokingly, I'd better not drink the water around here.

There is one thing I am learning.  The word cancer is not necessarily a death sentence like I had seen it before.  I am seeing people live with cancer and live beyond cancer.  I know I needed that reshape of my thoughts so I wouldn't be so fearful if it ever falls closer to me. 

I'm almost afraid of what September, October, November...will bring.  This 1-2 a month average is wearing me down and really taking a toll on my ever-so-fragile faith.

Call Me Maybe...

In one way it doesn't seem possible that it's been 9 days since I was last laying out my personal thoughts for the world to see and in other ways it feels like it's been years ago.

As is usually the case, when life sucks I either write a lot or retreat.  This is definitely one of those times of retreat.

Outside of my own issues, which have been bad but manageable, we learned my father-in-law has cancer.  I'll write more about him later, but here are the basics.  He has at least stage II prostate cancer.  He has more testing today to determine if the cancer has spread because it is a potentially aggressive form of cancer.  These tests will provide a direction on treatment.

While my mother-in-law seems to have stabilized a bit from her dementia down slide, I don't think anyone in the family has quite fully come to grips with the reality that she will never get any better.  The family status really hasn't changed there either.  The oldest siblings continue to be proactive with her health care while the two youngest continue to be give off a sense of denial. 

The cancer diagnosis would have come as a blow either way, but the recent decline in my mother-in-laws mental and emotional health has certainly made this sting a bit more.  He is her primary caregiver.  With an additional family health crisis, it will put further stress on the already busy-with-life older siblings.  Just not good timing...not that there is ever a good time.

This seems to be just another cancer wall that feels like it's been boxing me in all summer long.  Probably deserving of a blog post all of it's own, the number of people who've been diagnosed with cancer this summer alone is a bit frightening.  As my husband I discussed last night, it is seriously impending our view of God is right now.

Speaking of that, I seem to have hit a skid of hearing the typical Christian responses to all of it.  "Oh don't worry about it, all old men get prostate cancer."  "Are you praying about it?  Maybe you aren't praying enough or hard enough."  "It doesn't matter how bad things are, you just have to see the good and move on."  "I know just how you feel, I've been through it all." 

All of those ignited that response from the gut that wanted to scream, "Yea that's a bunch of BS."  But somehow I managed to smile, nod and cordially get through each one.  Not super easy for me right now.  And, maybe I'll blog about that later too.

Before this turns into a wild mess of rambling, I'll wrap it up with this...as I lay in bed at night and everything is overwhelming me, I grab the ipad and watch two videos that make me laugh and smile.  They remind of a time, long, long ago, when things were a bit more carefree.

Swimming Pool

Lately, I've been a bit obsessed with being in a swimming pool.  As hot as it has been this summer, I've only managed to go swimming 4 times.  Sadly, summer is about over, but my obsession is not.

One of the swims was late one evening with my husband.  He is not much into pools, but I managed to drag him along anyway.

It was during a time of explaining to him that I think I really understood my recent obsession.

There was no lack of chaos in my life as a kid and there were few things to combat that chaos.

My parents always left a list of things that had to be done each day of the summer.  Laundry, dishes, vacuum, making beds, cleaning, watching my brothers, etc.  My grandparents had a pool and part of my list was to take my brothers swimming in the afternoons.

As often as I could, I would sneak over to my grandparent's house and clean the pool in the mornings.  It was the only time I really got to be alone in a safe place.

The pool wasn't really a safe place for me any other time.  My cousin used that as another place to molest me.  Swimming with my brothers wasn't ok either because they teased and taunted until it just wasn't fun any more.  But that quiet hour in the morning, it was the safest place I could be.

It was always a risk to go.  If my brother's caught me and told my parents, I'd have a high price to pay and often did.  That hour of solitude was worth it though.

I would clean the pool, which took about 30 minutes.  Then I would spend the next 30 minutes swimming and just being ok.

One of the things I often did was flip over one of the floating, blow-up chairs and tuck myself underneath of it.  Nobody could see me.  Nobody could hear me.  Nobody could imagine the thoughts in my head.  Nobody could see me cry.  Nobody was able to hurt me.

I know it might seem a bit crazy, but it was a much needed break from reality.  It might even be what saved me from being crazy.

There is no doubt that the past couple months have left me so incredibly overwhelmed.  In fact, I'm swamped with so much emotion that I just crave times of solitude in safe places.  I'm having a hard time finding that. 

I have a desire, a need, to have times in a safe place.  A place where nobody can see me.  Nobody can hear me.  Nobody can see me cry.   I want to tuck away and let the water hug me while I escape from reality for just a few moments.

Silent Statistic

I want to share a startling statistic with you:
In the first 6 months of 2011, there were approximately 226,000 reports of alleged child abuse (not including statutory rape).  Of those, 24,075 or 10% were cases where the accused party was ages 13 to 17 and 17,250 or 8% were cases where the accused party was under age 13.  Approximately, 20% of alleged child abusers were children.  Keep in mind, this only counts the cases which were reported legally.  There are many, many more silent statistics, cases that are never counted because they happened and were never reported.

I was a child who was sexually abused by another child.  To be honest, I actually had a couple instances of being abused by other children.  None were quite as extensive as with my cousin.

On occasion, I may have made mention of being molested by a cousin in my blog.  I don't recall ever sharing much about it.

Having talked through some of these statistics with a friend, I realized that there are some general assumptions people make when they don't have abuse in their background.

1.  Kids only abuse kids younger than them.
          This is simply untrue.  My cousin is younger than me.  In fact, he was smaller and certainly had less physical strength than me until we were teens. 

2.  There must be something really wrong with a kid for them to abuse another kid.
          This might be partially true in some cases.  What I know to be true in my case and many others, this is a learned behavior.  My cousin began abusing me when when we were 6.  After seeing many 6-year-olds from average families, I do not believe that a 6 year-old just inherently knows sexual behavior.  In our case, it was a learned behavior that came from both of us being abused by a grandparent. 

3.  It should be easier to tell if the abuser is another kid.
          Again, completely untrue.  As was the case with me, I had already been taught the golden rule that every abuser holds over the victim...you NEVER tell or something worse will happen.  Especially as the older child in the situation, it is incredibly easy to believe you will be in big trouble if anyone found out.

4.  Maybe kids take curiosity too far and it really wasn't abuse.
          That is one of those statements that just makes me angry over ignorance.  Not to be funny, but I know there is a lot of playground antics of "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."  I understand that there is a point for kids when they do begin to have curiosity over the opposite sex and the physical differences.  That wasn't the case for me and I'm guessing for many others. 

5.  When it is kids abusing kids, it probably doesn't happen multiple times.
          I can only speak for my own experience here and tell you that was not the case.  My cousin abused me from 6 years-old to 17 years-old.  In those 11 years, it happened hundreds of times.  In fact, it probably got more frequent as we got older.  As my cousin got older, he got more aggressive and more active.  Once he began driving, he probably got the most active.  For a couple years, it was nearly everyday after school.

6.  Kids who share abusers wouldn't want to hurt each other.
          This couldn't be further from the truth.  I believe when kids have been abused, they look for situations where they can feel some control because there is a lot happening to them that they cannot control.  In my case, I believe my cousin knew I was an easy target.  He repeatedly saw that I adhered to the golden rule and lived with a lot of fear.  I was easy for him to exert control over, being a vulnerable child with multiple abusers.

7.  Somebody in the family had to have known.
          I don't believe this is true.  In fact, I know writing this in a public forum puts me at risk of someone finding out.  I don't believe that anyone in my family knows besides him and myself.  The only person who might have had a clue has been deceased for 14 years and was part of the problem.  My cousin is married with children of his own now. 

I certainly don't have any desire to disrupt his life, which is why I never mention him by name.  It is unlikely he would ever admit to what he did.  It is even possible that to this day, he doesn't believe he did anything wrong.  Throughout my adult life, he has made mention of it to me.  At various family gatherings, he would catch me alone in a room or corner and ask me if I ever told anyone about what "we" did.  The last time he asked was about six years ago.  At the time, the only person I'd ever told was my husband. 

Honestly, it's my life, my story to tell.  I can freely share what he did and know his feelings, thoughts or opinions are completely irrelevant to me. 

While the statistics are startling, I believe the silent statistics are probably beyond what we can comprehend.  That is where I fall...in the silent statistics.

The Let Down...

There is much more to write about in the last five days of the visit with the kids.  Originally, it was the emotional ups and downs paired with the constant busyness that kept me from being able to continue sharing.  Believe, there are things you won't be surprised by and things that are blow-your-socks-off amazing that are left to share.

Now, I sit here in the let down of it all.  My house is quiet.  I've almost picked everything up and nearly have everything back to where it belongs around the house.  I've rested, napped and slept my way to feeling mostly normal again instead of exhausted.

The week was an emotional roller coaster and I've come to a lull where I don't want to feel anything.  I want to be emotionally flat to give myself a break.  I refuse to shed one more tear out of anger, joy or fear right now. 

Mainly, I want to completely ignore the profound emptiness that's looming around every corner.  All I did for a few weeks before their arrival was prepare for their arrival.  I prepped physically and emotionally and it consumed at least a large portion of everyday.  It goes without saying that I stayed busy from out of bed to bedtime every single day while they were here. 

Now, there is just kind of nothing.  I don't have a lot to look forward to and nothing to consume my time.  It's fair to say that I'd forgotten what life was like prior to four weeks ago.  Was my life really this empty?

Sure, I have somethings that I will hold onto for a long time as positive from the past week.  To think about those would tap into that forbidden area where I don't want to go right now.  But, emptiness can't be eluded.

It isn't anything new for me.  It is my life.  I live it and I know what little there is in it.  By that, I mean I know I have very little to get up for in the morning and even less to keep me motivated throughout an entire day. 

If there is one downfall to having the nine day visit with my niece and nephew, it is that their leaving has shined an even brighter light on all the things I dislike about my life.  The lack of purpose, job, generally anything that makes me feel like my life is of any value. 

It is crazy how something as simple as being responsible for a child can add so much purpose in your life.  Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful for the time they were here....but man what crappy thing to have waiting for me after they leave.

Monday and Tuesday Madness

After a much needed full nights sleep, I made my first attempt at waking two pre-teens up before 8 am.  For being the first day, it wasn't too bad.  Lucky for me they were satisfied with pop tarts on the way to their first day of Vacation Bible School.

If you've read any of my past posts, you probably know this is my neice and nephews first experience with VBS.  They had plenty of questions, but were willing to give it a try.  I picked them up and got to hear all about the fun they had, especially with water games. 

We met a friend for lunch and the kids got their first experience with Costa Vida and the multi-functional pop machine.  There are just too many flavors a kid can come up with when they have 100's of choices.

After lunch, we met some friends for laser tag.  There's nothing like being encouraged to shoot at other people that gets kids all sorts of hyped up, especially boys.  Laser tag was definitely a success. 

We took the friends for ice cream, another round of cup of many flavors pop and then back home for a boys vs. girls round of Just Dance and Mario Kart on the Wii.

To finish out our night, we had dinner at another friend's house.  The kids were self-entertained for hours by the old-school style video games, sports games, movies and personal driving range. 

I was so thankful for a few hours to have them entertained and for adult conversation.

Tuesday brought day #2 for VBS.  The kids did great, again.  I might have used a little bribery to get them up a little faster.  After stopping at McDonalds for breakfast, we were off.

After VBS, they shared with me that their snack of the day was a blue jello heart with whipped cream and a strawberry.  My niece shared that the blue heart was because people were sad and the red heart was because God loves us.  Ok, so she might not have gotten all the details, but it was music to my ears.

We headed to Chuck E Cheeses for pizza and games.  What a deal!  $40 for 1 pizza, 1 salad and enough tokens to last all of 30 minutes for two kids.  Not to mention, for all their effort, we ended up with an inflatable mini guitar, a rainbow plastic slinky, 2 sweet tarts, 2 boxes of mini nerds and 1 prickly pencil topper.  No matter how you lay it out, that place is just a rip off.  And the pizza ain't that great either!

The kids were quiet, not even bickering, so I knew a nap was in the near future for all of us.  I definitely needed it.  Evidently, my nephew needed it too.  He slept over 5 hours and was difficult to rise for dinner.

While my nephew slept, I got some fun one on one time with my niece.  We grocery shopped first, then made dinner.  She helped make fried chicken strips and pickles.  To date, I think this might be my favorite part of their time here.  It was so much fun having girl time with her.

Travel and Home

Sunday was a rush trying to get everything packed.  It's a lot harder when you add two more people. 

I don't think anyone was really rested.  That led to a long trip home.  I learned though that if the kids had ipads, they would at least be quiet. 

The kids and I headed to the church after we got back.  It took some encouragement, but the kids started helping others get ready for VBS.

My niece had so much fun helping one of my friends that she wasn't ready to leave.  She stayed to help for a few more hours.  So different than I thought it would be.

We grabbed Little Caesar's, another first for the kids, for dinner.  After a trip to Orange Leaf, it was back home for showers and an early bed time. 

I realized Sunday that I am much more tolerable and tolerant when I am better rested.  It's amazing how a lack of sleep effects so many facets of life.

Sunday was the day that I also realized that I was silently, sadly counting down the days until the kids would leave.  They were already asking to stay longer, but I had no real expectation that would happen. 

I desperately wanted to freeze time, hold onto this moment forever.  Maybe not the particular day, but the week as a whole.  I didn't want it to end, ever.  I told myself, I'd just be happy that it happened and I'd not long for it to be longer.  But I just couldn't stick to that.

I love these kids...what can I say. 

Day 2 of Branson

We got up a bit earlier Saturday morning to start our Silver Dollar City aka. Steal Your Dollar City adventure. 

We had breakfast at one of our favorite diners.  It is a cheap, fast place to eat with good food, but we are rarely phased by the old country singer that does live entertaining during the meal.  The kids, however, thought that was pretty cool. 

After breakfast, we took our bumper to bumper hour long drive to SDC.  The weather was hot and the park was full.  What can I really say about it? 

Every line was at least a full, sweaty hour for rides.  The kids hit the first water ride we found.  I got some great pictures I will post later. 

Our next stop was the Fabulous Willendas.  We didn't have to wait in a line, but we ended up on the front row.  That was quite an exciting hour.  We were close enough to see them sweat and their nervous muscle twitches.  They do an excellent show. 

We had our over priced lunch before heading to the next water ride.  Kent and I took turns going on the rides with the kids.  Lucky me, I got the water rides.  Kent got the roller coaster, spinning and rocking rides.  I think taking turns gave Kent and I just enough rest to be able to keep going through 105 degree heat.

We caught the Gazillion Bubbles show in the later afternoon.  I didn't think I could be that entertained by bubbles, but it was surprisingly fun.

At 9:30 that night, we finally decided to call it quits.  I think the kids could have kept going, but we were done. 

Back at the condo, I did laundry, packed, more laundry and cleaned as the kids watched tv for another several hours. 

It was Saturday night that I realized I hadn't had one full conversation with my husband for two days.  I also began to have a new respect for parents.  I don't know how they do it.  I suppose they probably grow into a bit while I got an 11 and 12 year old without any prep work.

By Saturday night, I was exhausted to tears.  I hadn't and didn't sleep that great in Branson and looked forward to my own bed. 

I knew it was all a success when I asked the kids their favorite part and they both responded, "All of it."

Again...so worth it!

Few Moments to Breathe

I was sadly mistaken when I thought I would have more free moments of down time to share what this week has been like.  This is the first time in three days that I've had a few moments when I've not been completely exhausted.

It has been a good busy. 

Friday morning, everyone slept in which was greatly needed.  We headed to Mr. Pecks for lunch, our favorite chicken place in Branson.  There were fried pickles, fresh fried potato chips, cornbread and chicken for everyone. 

From there, we headed out on our Duck adventure.  It was so much fun to let the kids pick out taffy and then crawl onto the WWII style vehicles.  It was so hot!  The amphibious vehicles took us for a giant splash into Grand Lake where the kids became honorary captains of our floating truck.  The multiple "that was so cool" comments that came was worth every sweaty second.

Our next event was the Dixie Stampede.  I must admit that I wasn't looking forward to the show.  Having been three times already and the kids having been just a year ago, I questioned the wisdom of this decision.  The food was good.  I mean how could you complain when you get a full meal you eat with your fingers only and watch horses, buffalo, pigs and chickens?  Although everyone seemed to enjoy it, I still wondered if there would be some regret.  As we walked to the exit after it was over, my nephew turned to me and said, "Thank you for bringing us, that was really fun."  Again...all worth it for that.

Friday evening, the kids held their uncle to his rule that it's not vacation unless you have ice cream.  That has turned into a rule that they are carrying through their vacation now.  They picked Cakes and Creams for their treat for the night.  It was fun to watch their amazement that they could order anything they wanted, even funnel cakes.  We rounded out the evening with some swimming.

While everything physically went better than I could have asked for, the trip was already emotional.  Not very often in my life have things gone the way I had hoped and even better.  There were times when I waited for something to go wrong.  There were moments where I had just a few minutes of silence and I fought back tears.  Something I had dreamed of, hoped for, thought I would never again have was really happening.  What an emotional high...































































































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And so it begins...

The morning sun is shining down on the steam rising off the lake, while in the other rooms the kids are still sound asleep. I want to capture every moment possible during these quiet times so that I have something I can look back on after this time has passed. After all the anxiety and anticipation, my brother's family arrived yesterday afternoon. My assumption was that there would be a short, awkward time of visiting, then they would leave the kids for another round of awkwardness. I couldn't have been more wrong. Maybe it was because I had such minimal expectations that I was so incredibly pleased with how it went. The awkward silence was buffered by my chatty sister-in-law. The kids were quiet at first, but quickly started to talk. We visited for over 90 minutes before we all went our separate ways. Even though it wasn't deep conversation, it was pleasant. To have my baby brother talk directly to me after all this time made my heart happy. About 5:30, we loaded the car and headed to Branson. For having pre-teens, I think Kent and I were both surprised to only be asked once "how long till we get there?" We shared occasional conversation, but mostly the kids listened to music, played on phones and ipads. It was fun for me just to watch them being kids. After getting into town, we stopped at Culver's for dinner. The kids had never been to a Culver's and thought it was pretty cool you could get so much ice cream at a burger place. Keep in mind, the town we are all from has a Mexican and pizza restaurant. Neighboring towns have a few more chains, but very old and common ones. I laughed a little on the inside as we finished dinner. I remember these kids who barely finished kiddie meals when you took them to eat. Now they eat like adults. What a change for me to see. Girls really do take a long time in the bathroom. I found myself getting worried and even double checking on my neice. I guess it is just that girls do girl things! Once we were in Branson, we started getting all sorts of questions. Where things were, what we were doing, where were we staying? The lights from afar had them buzzing. Their excitement was exciting for me. Our arrival at the condo was just as exciting. After we unloaded the car, everyone began exploring. We have a deck that looks out over the lake. There are 2 king beds and a fold out couch. We have a full kitchen, laundry room, living and dining rooms. As my nephew said to me, "it's like a house and better than a hotel." On inspection, the kids found the giant jetted tub and quickly determined they would both be using it. Hey, I don't care as long as they aren't stinky kids. They decided they would take alternate nights in the big king bed. As they saw the big bed, they both looked at me and simultaneously said, "we get that whole bed to ourselves?" So funny! Yes, a king bed with 5 pillows all to themselves. The lady who rents these condos to us is so kind and always takes care of us. She left a tray on the bed with cookies for the kids. They judiciously shared them, but were in aw of the idea that there were cookies on their bed for them. It is so cool to see things through the eyes of a child who has never seen them before. We made out the couch bed, where I got some time to watch the Disney channel with my neice. How cool is it that she was conent just to have me there watching tv with her? My nephew made his way to the giant tub. Midway through his bath, I realized I hadn't told him not to pour soap in the jetted tub. As I cracked the door so he could hear me, I heard him playing in the water and singing to himself. Ahh, there was the little kid I remember. I'm happy to report we did not have a bubble overflow either. At midnight, they were still going but I was exhausted. I crawled into bed feeling about as content as I could have. It brings tears to my eyes to even type that. I don't think there are words to describe just how happy I was. I had such fear and anxiety with minimal expectations. All that washed away while my expecations were exceeded. I can only credit God with how well things have gone. None of it was in my control and I was certainly given more than I deserve. Even today as I write this, I can't help but smile and be happy. We will have a full day today and I can't wait. I am still remembering to just live in the moment right now.

'Twas the Night Before...

Well....not Christmas, but it feels like it.  Tomorrow, after a long, heart wrenching wait I will finally get to see my niece and nephew. 

It actually feels even better than Christmas morning anticipation.  It is like bundling 10 years of birthday and Christmas morning anticipation all together.

Sitting here thinking about it is easily brings me to tears.  I've spent the last four years thinking a day like tomorrow would never come again.  I've spent four years of sobbing my way through each child's birthday and holidays thinking I'd never have an opportunity to spend a day with these kids again. 

I know, it's not here yet and there is always a chance it will not happen.  I have to be realistic with the the past history of broken promises.

Even though I know they have changed in the past four years and they really don't even look the same.  But, I still cannot wait to see them in person and hug them as if no time has passed.

With the exception of a little cleaning and last minute packing, there is nothing left to do but patiently wait for their arrival.  I can be a patient person, but in this case I don't think so.   I'm ready!

Honestly, it feels so surreal. 

I'm worn out and I definitely need to get some rest, but my anxiety is through the roof.  Instead of going to bed, I'll toss and turn as my mind and body feels like a pinball bouncing around a machine.

Deep breath.  Wipe away the anxious and happy tears.  Deep breath.  Remember to enjoy the moment.  Deep breath.  Remember to not dwell on the past.  Deep breath.  Wipe away tears of overwhelm.  Deep breath.  Remember to not worry about the future.  Deep breath.  Smile and soak in each moment.  Deep breath.  Remember the underlying reason why this is all good.  Deep breath.  Wipe away more tears of joy.  Deep breath.  And....I'm ready!

A Whole Psalm

There are so many things and emotions and more things I could write about today.  A lot of that would just cause me more anxiety, so I'll share something different with you.

I read Psalm 121 today.  Not once, but twice.  I read an entire Psalm today.  That's a huge deal for me. 

My bible has a thick layer of dust on in disturbed only by the fingerprints from moving it from place to place.  I don't often go to church.  Currently, I do no bible study.  I have a friend who sends me a verse a day and I do good just to read through it.

So reading an entire Psalm is a big deal!

As I previously shared, I have a friend who is in the midst of her second round with cancer.  This trial she is going through has really pushed me out of my comfort zone. 

A few years ago, I would have tucked tail and run from anyone going through something like this.  I wouldn't want any part of helping them, being a friend to them and certainly not caring for them.  I also understand why I wouldn't.  Dealing with something where I have absolutely not one ounce of control in is just too hard.  Much easier to walk away!

There is something deep inside of me that just won't let me walk away from this one.  Not  only do I not want to walk away, but I want to jump in the middle and be there with her every step of the way.  It is beyond my understanding why I feel so strongly about this.

Each time this friend comes to mind, I find myself having a very real and most of the time difficult conversation with God.  I can't tell you the number of times I have found myself for no reason at all talking with God about this friend, this situation.

The past few days, different bible verses have come to mind as I go about my little chat with God.  Today it was "My help comes from the Lord, maker of heaven and earth."  Today was probably the first time I've really been motivated to look up the verse. 

I read it once, twice, then the verse after and the one after that.

After reading the entire Psalm, I had this immense feeling of gratitude for my friend and for her trial.  It was an overwhelming feeling to understand that my friend's trial was pushing me toward prayer and the bible and most importantly, God. 

Not my struggles, not my turmoil, nothing in my life has pushed me toward God as quickly and so deeply as this has.  I found so much comfort for my tormented heart in that Psalm this morning.  For the first time in a long time, my heart feels more open to the bible. 

Babies Everywhere Babies

My friends, my friend's children, my family members, ladies from church, ladies from bunco....everywhere I look there are either babies or babies to be.

Good grief, I think we must be in the mother of mating seasons and have been for the past year.

I don't begrudge any of them the joy of pregnancy or their little oogley baby at all.  But lately it seems like every week brings another announcement or birth.

Most of the time, I do pretty well with sharing in their excitement.  I congratulate them, even get excited for them.   I'd be telling a lie to say each time, in my heart, it's like being slapped in the face while getting a punch in the gut.

I'm not overly jealous with all of it, but it does start that self loathing.  Why after all I've been through couldn't I have at least been able to have a child?  Why did God choose me to be without child?  What did I do to cause this?

I know the physical causes, but I don't get the over-arching big life plan reasons.  This is one of those things that always ends up in disconnect between my head and heart.  I know, but I don't.

This past weekend I received an email from a dear friend.  She too had struggled with infertility.  She was so kind to tell me ahead of time she was pregnant and they would be announcing soon.  It was by far the sweetest way I've ever had a friend handle this delicate subject for me.  I so appreciated that. 

She was kind of the last person who could truly commiserate with me over infertility.  And...it left me feeling kind of, no really, alone in this area again.  Not that I wish this dreadful thing on anyone, but it is nice to have someone who understands. 

There are so many babies coming soon that it might take a little more than I am humanly capable of to emotionally get through.  Ahh...fun times!

Different Kind of Countdown

Usually I am anxiously counting down to a terrible time.  I stress, have anxiety and dread the day which is approaching, for whatever reason. 

This is a bit of a different countdown.  It has all the stress and anxiety, but all for a day I've waited on for so long now. 

I have only three days until my niece and nephew get here for nearly a week.  It's super exciting!

It has been a long time since I felt so anxious about anything though.  Of course all the reasons I mentioned in a previous post cause me anxiety, but those mostly fall all on me.  The things making me most anxious right now are the things I cannot control, the environmental, circumstantial things.

I almost feel as though I am being attacked on every side.  I feel like there is some force bigger than I which is creating blows that will keep me from enjoying this time.

Last week was a real witch.  I don't even care to go into but I had about 10 days of tough, tough times.  It really side tracked me from focusing on the fun times ahead.

This weekend, our air conditioner stopped working correctly.  After hundreds of dollars and three technicians, it is fixed.  The unexpected financial burden paired with the stress of heat and multiple repairmen made me totally lose focus.  I was so wrapped up in that, I forgot that I only have three short days left.

I got stressed over little things, such as the house being clean or paint chipping or the car being vacuumed or the dogs being bathed.  So many times I was overwhelmed by things that won't matter to an 11 and 12 year old that I almost forgot to follow through with plans.

There are three days left, well....2 days and 15 hours.  I'm sure I will stress about a whole lot more before then.  But I hope the minute those two kids walk through the door, all of the stress and anxiety will fade away and I will be able to enjoy every single second of it.

Music Speaks

Not that I need an excuse to take a break from cleaning, but I had to shut the vacuum off and write this while my thoughts are fresh and my emotions are raw.

A couple months ago, I had a conversation with a dear friend which has stuck with me.  We were talking about loving one another.  Do we really do our best at loving each other the way God loves us?  Do we even come close to loving each other the way God wants us to love each other?

My friend shared his personal perspective about how maybe he hadn't been loving his own brother like he should.  I can't share his story because it's a very personal one that isn't mine to tell.  However, the conviction he shared stuck with me.  Not only that, but I've had the opportunity to witness his growth in this area and overtly show a love for his brother. 

That conversation has stayed tucked away in my heart and wiggles its way to my head every time I think about my own brothers.

The past few weeks to months have shown me that I have made huge strides in my ability to love people.  Unquestionably, I have developed a deep, deep love for a few of my friends.  They had only been acquaintances for so long, that I'm not sure when it crossed over into this semi-unfamiliar area.  I honestly can't explain it.  It's not my nature to have this kind of love for people who really haven't first shown that kind of love for me.  But it's there and it's real.  I laugh, cry, hurt, rejoice with them without any notion that I am out of place.  Even if they don't share that deep compassion for me, it is concrete for me.  Completely not my nature!

That is exactly the same kind of love that I should have for my brothers.

I've spent a lot of time recently thinking through what keeps me from loving them like that.  I realized that it was anger and hurt.  What I didn't realize is that my hurt and anger was completely misplaced.

As I listened to the new song "Forgiveness" by Matthew West, it all came together for me.

I MUST consider who my brothers are.  They are abuse survivors.  They come from the same, twisted, evil that I did.  They have become what they were taught to be.  Their actions make sense given the depravity they come from.

WOW!

They both have done awful, mean, hurtful, damaging things to me, which would make a relationship impossible for us.  The fact that they both have relationships with my parents is another hurdle and probably the one that will keep a physical distance between us.

After considering our common bond, surviving evil, I don't think I can hold onto any anger I have toward them.  The hurt I feel should rightly be placed on my parents, not my brothers.

In West's song, he says "Show me how to love the unlovable. Show me how to reach the unreachable. Show me how to do the impossible."

I think the first thing I've had to do is realize my brothers, just like me, are NOT unlovable.  Doing what seemed impossible, forgiving them, really wasn't in my reach.  Not until I accepted that they weren't unlovable. 

My brothers are lovable.  In fact, I believe God had great compassion for them. 

It is an act of God, an act far outside of my reach alone, that I can sit here and tell you today that I my heart is full of love for them.  There is no anger or hurt toward them left in me.  Sure, I'm angry and more hurt than ever over what my parents have done.  But all that is left for my brothers is compassion, understanding and love for my brothers.

I may not like what they do and I may feel pain over the loss of relationship, but I love them anyway.  I honestly believe they are living the best possible lives they can given their background. 

My final thought is that I wonder what life would be like for them if they were believers.  What if they knew how to have that deep love for people because they knew God had that kind of love for them? 

Prepping

As I frantically go through the house cleaning and making a list of things that needs done before our impending house guests, I am figuring out that prepping is a lot work.

I have certainly had a full plate with making sure I have enough blankets, pillows, towels, etc.  There are things I would love to have done, like tile in the bathroom, that I have resigned myself to accept just isn't going to happen in the next week.  I have already made a trip to target for miscellaneous items that I wouldn't have otherwise purchased right now. 

There's certainly been a lot of prepping for our impromptu mini-vacation and a variety of activities being planned for the kiddos. 

All of those things are just motions.  The lists are long, but hard work and time will persevere.

What I hadn't really thought through until the past two days is the emotional prepping that needs done. 

After a few anxiety attacks which reduced me to a bawling mess in the fetal position on the floor, I was able to accept that maybe I might be a little fearful of the upcoming family visit.

Don't think for a second that I don't love my niece and nephew.  I do.  I love them beyond what I could possibly explain to anyone.  They don't have to earn my love, they just get it.  I have anxiously waited for over four long years to again show them just that.  I would sacrifice for them.  My heart has been warmed by catching a glimpse of a picture of them.  My heart has been broken every birthday and holiday I have missed them.

I equally love my brothers in the same ways, but it's much harder to say. 

But I've become overwhelmed with a very real fear of what my place is in their life and how they feel about me.

I am doing my best at holding my expectations of them very loosely.  They are 11 and 12 years old.  I'm not sure your average 11 or 12 year old is overly loving with anyone.  I also know a bit about the environment they come from.

It is very possible that after all this time, we will be like strangers with each other.  I know enough about kids to know they change a lot between 8 and 12.  Good grief, I've changed so much in the past four years.  Will they even remember me?  Will they remember what I was like four years ago?  Will I have changed so much that they feel I too am a stranger?  Or even worse, will I have changed so much that they don't care to be around me?

The truth is that I don't know and that scares me. 

Even though I am trying not to focus on it, I am incredibly sad over the time I've lost the past five years.  I've lost so much time with them, my other niece and nephew and even my brothers.  I know it had to be.  In order to sort through the nasty rats nest of my life, I had to be away from my hometown and key family members.  I don't regret that, but I do regret the distance it put between the kids and I.

Let's face it, I have made a lot of great changes in my life and have come so far in the past five years.  But, what if I'm really not the aunt they know or even want?  What if I am in fact not good enough for them any more?  What if I really don't have a place in their life any more?  What if they are angry or confused about why I don't visit them any more?

How do you explain to a 12 year old that their grandparents screwed their aunt up so bad that she had to go almost 5 years without seeing them?

I don't regret the decision to keep them at all.  But I am scared beyond belief. 

Not that I've voiced this concern to anyone yet, because I haven't.  However, so much of what I have shared with my friends has been met with that common, "don't worry about it, God will work it all out."

How does that apply when one half the equation are not Christian? 

I still have a week before they get here.  A full week to stew over the emotional ups and downs which are sure to come.  

Back to cleaning I go, tears and all....that seems to be the only part of this prepping process that I can control at this point. 

I write for me...

I noticed today that the readership of my blog has doubled over the past month.  Yep, I am one of those who occasionally looks at the stats to see if anyone really reads my dribble.  Evidently they do; you do.

At first, I had that split second thought that it was creepy other people were reading what I write.  It isn't like when I wrote for the newspapers. Those were articles with facts and given for informational purposes.  For me, blogosphere is just an open editorial section for life as I see it. Completely different!

When I write here, I write for me.  Whether I use it to express an opinion, emotionally dump overflow or share past experiences, it is almost always written for me.  It may come across as a cry for help sometimes and maybe it is, but that's never the intention.

I doubt anyone would come to my blog for encouragement, it's really not that kind of writing.  I struggle with some common and a lot of unique problems.  I don't hide that or sugar coat it all.  I can't imagine anyone reading what I write and feeling uplifted.

There are rarely any comments on my posts.  I also don't get much feedback from friends either.  That leads me to believe the people reading my blog could possibly be strangers or people I have no relationship with at this time.   It's even possible that you reading this are a complete stranger.  I'm really ok with all of the above.

Maybe one day you'll leave me a comment to share with me why you read my blog.  I'd love to know.  Not that it would change what I have to say or have any influence over how honest I am.

I also had that brief thought about the content of my posts.  There are some posts that are raw, unedited and even vulgar.  Sure, I could go back and edit them.  However, I think that would discredit me as being real and honest.  And, honestly, those are the posts I need the most.  I need those points of desperation to look back on later.  I need those reference points to see my own progress. 

There are a couple people I know read the blog to stay up-to-date with what I am thinking.  I'm ok with that too.  Some days my husband is so busy that I barely see him.  At least here he can know what's on my mind. I love you honey! 

Whatever your reason for being here, I hope you continue to visit.  I hope at times you can find something useful here.  If you're truly a creeper and shouldn't be here, well then I hope you'll eventually get bored with me.  If you dislike me and follow just to find joy in my misery, then you're probably family or just as sick and twisted as they are.

Overloaded

It could be that I didn't hardly sleep last night or that this week a majority of my support system is unavailable or even that my entire routine is in complete disrupt, but I'm doing everything to maintain dry cheeks.

I am on total emotional overload and have had no real outlets for it this week.  Sure, I've had a couple people talk with me.  But I haven't had any of those deep, honest, vomit-it-all-up conversations yet.  Usually by Monday, I've had at least two of those. 

Nobody is around who really knows me well enough to know the signs that I am hiding a swirling nest of emotions inside me.  Nobody knows how to push me gently but just firm enough so that I will lay it all out and be able to relax from the internal turmoil for just a little while.

I'm sure I've shared the analogy of the beach ball.  When you focus all energy on keeping the ball under water, you will eventually become exhausted and the ball will go flying out of the water.  I've exterted about the last bit of energy I have to keep it down and it's about to shoot back up. 

Sadly, bad things tend to happen when I can no longer hold the ball down.  I've had a couple people ask how this week is going.  Sometimes I really believe when they ask, they just want to hear everything is fine and that's what I give them.  Other times, I might project that they don't really have time to have a deep conversation or even that they really won't want to hear the truth.

It's times like this when I wish there were more people who were strong enough to sit me down and not let up until I crack.  It's not some sadistic need in myself.  I just know what I need to survive times like this. 

I can't ask or demand or expect that of anyone.  And, I think that ties back to my childhood and past experiences. 

When I expected my parents to take care of me, they failed.  When I asked grandparents and teachers to help me, they failed me.  When I begged friends to help me through trials, they failed me.  I don't ask because that starts the expectation that the person will reject my request and/or fail me.  I've stopped even giving people an opportunity to fail and placed every expectation on failing myself. 

Only another entire week before I get back into my normal routine.  Another whole week.  Seven full days.  That's a lot of time for failure and a lot of opportunity for major damage.

I know the Christianized response to my dilema is to "just trust in the Lord" or "when everyone else fails you, the Lord is always there." 

My oh so human response to that is this:  Yes God is the only one I can fully place all my trust in and who will never fail me.  However, He knows me best and knows that he designed me to rely heavily on the tools He provides.  He knows my comfort comes most often through music and He knows human conversation and good Christian counsel are essential key ingredients in my daily living.  He knows my "right now" depends on others to support and care for me.

Oh boy...only one week to go before I get some normalcy back and I can get rid of this overload.

"Oceans Raging Wild..."

I am sitting here after having been to bed and gotten back up again.  Comfort eludes me tonight, emotionally, spiritually and physically. 

My mind and body are being tossed about in this violent swirling world full of uncertainty and questions. 

In addition to my mother-in-law, I have several people around me wading through major health problems.  Their stories aren't mine to tell and I probably couldn't do justice to what they are living through right now.  I can only tell you what it's like to be on the sidelines.

I would also like to add that I am in no way minimizing what they are going through.  I know how I feel and see their trial is of no comparison to what it must be like to be walking in their shoes right now.

Slowly, I am learning that prayer is just a fancy name for the conversation between me and God.  To dumb it down even further, it's really just me talking to someone I can't see, hear, feel or touch.  And honestly, lately, it feels exactly like me just talking to myself.

As my mother-in-law began the process of getting her dementia diagnosis and as my friends went through testing for cancer, I prayed and prayed and prayed for an outcome that would be the best possible for them.  I prayed for no dementia, no cancer.  In every case, my prayers (and those of many others) would not be answered.  It definitely feels like I've been talking to myself a lot lately.

It has taken a small army of people working diligently to undo the damage my dad did in convincing that there was no God and if there was, then bad things would not happen.  Even with the troops at hand, I feel like I barely hang onto what is true.  I know what the bible says, but my heart just doesn't have a concrete belief that God is good all the time.

Even in my own life, I don't understand. 

I know the Christian response is usually and probably should be accepting that each and every trial is no surprise to God.  We should blindly and confidently accept that God will use each trial for His glory.  We should live completely as if we never doubt that God never leaves us and will be our strength when the trial is too big for our minds to consume and too exhausting for our bodies to withstand. 

Honestly, I've tried and I can't do any of that right now.  I'm angry.  I'm fist-shaking, foot-stomping angry.  I'm shaking-my-head, hands-on-the-hips, toe-tapping angry that nothing seems fair when bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people.  The only confidence I have right now is that God knows I'm angry. 

Each angry tear I cry is filled with fear.  That's the driving force of the anger which has me so on edge tonight.  I am so afraid of the unknown, it's what has me so restless. 

For my mother-in-law, my friends and even myself, I'm afraid of what lays ahead.  I don't know if there will be healing.  I don't know if there will be a cure.  I don't know if there will be a miracle.  I don't know if there will be long, healthy lives ahead.  I just don't know and that scares me.

What I want for everyone, even me, is to be whole, healthy and happy.  Put back together and better than before.  I'm scared that won't be the answer for everyone of them or me. 

I'm scared that my doubt, my real struggle to find comfort in what I know is true will somehow disqualify me as a Christian.  I'm not challenging God, but I question whether or not He loves me and listens to me.

The last time we left my mother-in-law, "I Will Lift My Eyes," by Bebo Norman was playing on the radio.  It couldn't have played at a more perfect time. 

Psalm 123:1 says, I will lift my eyes to you, to you whose throne is in heaven.  Psalm 6:9 says, the Lord has heard my cry for mercy; the Lord accepts my prayer.

I am trying my hardest to hold it all close right now.  I may fail, but I will fail doing my best.