Nothing Else Matters

"His desire is for us to cling to him. There will come a time when nothing else matters, but God."

That was something I picked up from the sermon at the church we visited this week. This and the entire sermon on Jacob spoke to my heart. There were two different directions this tugged at my heart.

I typically don't have a lot of self esteem issues and I'm not sure that's what I have going on now. Lately, I have just felt too broken, too dirty, too much. Not for anything or anyone in particular, but just in general.

That's not a big revelation or confession of guilt or some huge sin in my life. Believe me, I lead a rather dull life these days. I think it is probably more of realization that there's a growing distance between God and myself. Possibly because of my very real discontent with church. Possibly it's my world experience bleeding over into my view of God.

I have spent a solid three years feeling very disconnected from church and people. Even now, I don't feel like I have a lot of friends or even human contact. I have made efforts to change that, but it doesn't seem to work. I told myself in Ohio, that it was the people. Here, I am having a harder time not taking it personally.

In fact, I'd say I am taking it very personally. There's probably not a week that goes by that I don't think that maybe I'm too this or that for people to want to be around me. I have spent hours and days wondering what I could do to make myself more attractive to people.

Now, I do think this has led to me feeling like I'm unattractive to God. If people don't want to be around me, then he probably doesn't either. It's been an ongoing battle between heart and mind for months now.

I woke up last week with Natalie Grant's song Clean in my head. This is song I haven't liked much. But, it really does touch on exactly how I have been feeling. It's a process. My heart and mind will eventually get on the same page, but it's a slow process.

This sermon was a reminder of exactly what the song says. The way I see me, the way others see me, that's not the way God sees me. What I've done, my sin, none of it matters. He makes me clean if I cling to him.

The other part of this for me has to do with my family. When we moved back, we had a strong connection with my brother and his family. After Thanksgiving, we lost it. I have no idea why. We've gone about seven months without much more than a couple fb messages. It isn't from not trying. We've tried to see them, call and text. We've gotten nothing back.

I won't lie, it's been hard. Super hard. I have felt abandoned all over again. There's no words that can describe that kind of pain.

What I got from yesterday was that I still have God. I sacrificed my family once for God. If they want to abandon me again, that's fine. I still have God. He won't leave me. It doesn't' make it any less painful. But when the tears are dried up, I still have this good thing in my life.

I probably need to write this reminder on something that I look at everyday.

Valley Campus Church

Since we moved, we have often seen huge trailers and signs for a church meeting at the grade school behind our house. Sunday, we finally decided to give it a try.

The church meets in the grade school. Although, I have no clue how long this has been going on, it seems well established. We live on a cul-de-sac and the school backs up to the houses on our street. I can stand on my deck and see kids playing during the school year and definitely hear them. It is by far, the most convenient church we could attend.

This campus is a satellite of First Baptist Blue Springs. We set almost right on the border of Blue Springs, so I suppose this is a perfect spot for a campus. They bring in large trailers full of equipment, set up and take down, all in a matter of hours.

One of the reasons to give this church a try is that we naturally believed a lot of our neighbors were attending. We have seen signs in yards and have seen them pull in.

The atmosphere was incredibly relaxed. I suppose meeting in a gymnasium lends itself to being relaxed.

Greeters and those handing out programs gave a friendly, great impression as we walked in the door. That's kind of where it stopped though. Once inside the door, nobody told us where to go, talked to us or even said hello for that matter. When we got to our seats, we spotted a family we knew from a previous church. We were surprise, yes. The fact that they walked past us without speaking or acknowledging us wasn't so much of a surprise. I'm going to get to that in another post.

This church has spared no expense on set up. If you ignored the stadium seating behind you, you would think you were in a legit church and not a gym. It was a very nice set up with stage and equipment.

There was a worship band and the music was fast paced and great. Honestly, I only knew one song. I felt like maybe that was because I don't listen to the radio much these days.

We were so fortunate to be able to witness two baptisms. Is there anything better than visiting a church and seeing the ordinance of baptism being carried out? I think not! It also give you quick insight into what the church believes about baptism. I will say that I don't think I've ever seen a baptism done in a feeding tank. Definitely a new experience.

The preaching was great. The pastor did not provide the correct notes for the bulletin, so I don't have anything to prompt me now. However, it was such a well delivered sermon, that I didn't need notes. He spoke about Jacob. He told about Jacob's life, how we may not be able to identify with having multiple wives but how we can all identify with being broken, manipulative, liars, in search of ways to put ourselves ahead of others even if we have to push them down.

Even in our brokenness, God doesn't leave us. When we wrestle with him, he doesn't leave us. When we are at our lowest point, he doesn't leave us. His desire is for us to cling to him. There will come a time when nothing else matters, but God. Such a powerful message and one I needed to hear.

The bulletin was ok. It didn't give much info about the happenings at this particular campus. I felt like it was all about the main campus. I would have liked to have more pertinent info for this particular campus.

I know from the website only that they have a lot of ministries. Most we would have to attend the main campus to be a part of. That isn't terrible, as the main campus is only about 15 minutes away. According to the website, there are life groups that meet in homes. Again, we got no info about that. There are no Sunday School classes at this campus, but they do have children's programs during church.

As we left, we met both the preaching pastor and the pastor/music leader. Both were incredibly nice and one lives in our neighborhood.

This is a church we will likely visit again. It was disappointing that the church didn't seem that welcoming or friendly. The parking lot seemed a little empty, so maybe it was just an off week. We would also want to visit the main campus if we were ever to make a decision to join this church.

First Baptist Church Odessa

This week, we visited First Baptist Church Odessa.

For a few reasons, I would have to go back to this church to really give it good consideration. I was extremely sleep deprived and a bit grouchy.

My husband heard about this church from a former coworker.

They have two services, 8:30 am and 10:50 am with Sunday School in between the two.

Following maps, this church was difficult to find. It is in a super small town and I think maybe it has two addresses. One of those is now found on gps. Once we found it, we realized it is super easy to get to and from as it is straight through town.

It is in a very nice building. The sanctuary is big with seats instead of pews. Let me tell you, those seats are big, wide and comfy. I know it's a small thing, but if I'm going to sit there for over an hour, comfort is always good.

They have a very easy to read bulletin with order of service. It has a fill in the blank sermon outline, as well as plenty of info about the church. Probably the only vital error I see with it is the back page. One column is for first time guests to fill out and put in the collection plate so that they have a record of your visit. The other column on this tear off page has all pertinent information. It has all bible study, service and ministry information and all the contact info for staff and pastors.

As for ministries, between the bulletin and website, I know they have women's and men's studies that break for the summer. They have a Wednesday night bible study and Thursday morning. I have no clue what they study or if they adult only. They do offer Celebrate Recovery. I like a church that offers something for the hurting, but I'm not sure about CR specifically. This is something I'd explore more if we chose this church.

They do have a choir, which appeals to me. I love and miss choir. It is also rare to find one.

We were greeted by the preaching pastor and he was at the door as we left. He seems like a very personable man. Only a few people shook our hands or spoke to us. I'm trying to determine how many people have to interact with you for you to feel like you were really welcomed. I'm sure that's different for everyone and probably is different based on congregation size.

The actual sermon was good. It was on Romans 5:1 and kept our attention. We are used to using online bibles on our phones. Inside the sanctuary, there is no cell service for us. They have a guest wifi, but it needs a password. We could not find a password anywhere, so it was useless for us. Kind of a bummer.

Probably the thing I would want to experience again is the music. I wasn't impressed. I know what you are thinking, you don't go to church for the music. However, music is important to me. There are times when I am struggling and I get zero from the sermon. During those times, music is how I connect to the service, church and it keeps me going when I would rather stay home. Except for one song, the music was either hymns or older and unfamiliar to me. I'm not saying that is horrible, but I do prefer more of a mix. I can't connect to the music if I don't know it.

Overall, it was a good experience. Based on what we saw and have read online, this church is inline with what we believe. It does look to be an older, established congregation and of course, makes us wonder how receptive they are to new people.

Church Searching

Let me start out by saying, we have a church home. There are plenty of people there who know us and we love dearly. It is a perfectly fine church.

Now, let me explain the stirring in our hearts that is driving us to look at other churches.

Our current church is over 30 minutes away. Since we have fully recovered from having to drive over an hour to anything, we feel the 30 minutes is a little bit long. Sure, once a week is no big deal. But, if you want to fully get involved in a church, then you need to be there more than just on Sunday. By the time my husband gets home, we get dinner, an hour on the road for an hour long bible study is just too much for one night. That is the biggest problem and certainly is the number one reason we are struggling to connect with our church. It isn't anybody's fault, it is just a product of circumstance.

Now might be a good time to make a huge observation. When we left our church in 2014, we were developing new relationships in this church. We were only there for six months, but it was a great six months. There were a few families from our first church and that made it pretty cozy. When we returned in 2016, the church seemed to be full of equal parts new people, previous members and transfers from our first church.

I'm not going to lie, I still have the tiniest bit of hurt plaguing me from our very first church. We attended the church for over six years. We sat in the same place week after week. We went to nearly everything. We got involved in ministries and I led or helped lead in a few. I served in the church office for over three years. Don't get me wrong, I had plenty of times struggling with church because of my own personal stuff. But, we were there.

During that time, people weren't very nice to us. We didn't have children and really didn't have a place or people. It wasn't until we right before we left that we had established a place. In the five years prior to that, people didn't make an effort to get to know us. They barely said hello. In fact, during my time in ministry, I saw the most awful sides of people. Here's the deal though. I've forgiven all of that. However, now we see many of these people sitting in our church now. They still won't bother to say hello and I don't feel overly compelled to put myself in their path. I'm human, it stirs up painful reminders of our first church and difficult to swallow in a church where we are failing connect.

Then, we are just tired. Exhausted really. I don't need to enumerate it, but we spend over two years of church just being hard. Hard because of the unwelcoming, people and crazy situations. Hard because our hearts were just not in it, not really allowed to be in it.

I can only speak for myself, but I don't want to be in church if it's going to exhaust me emotionally. I love church and due to circumstance, the church is my family. I need to be in a place where I can be me and fit. I need to not be judged or stuffed in a corner because I don't have children. I need to be with a church who will allow me to serve people in the ways I am gifted, even if those aren't the way I would choose.

So, here we go. We know that if God doesn't lead us to anywhere else, then He's leading us back to our church. I'm going to try to keep track of our experiences each week. Not for anyone, but me. I need to be honest and try to flesh out those parts of me that are overly critical. I'm hoping God will make it very clear to us in a good time frame, but I know we will keep looking until He does.

Job from Hell

Maybe it's a good thing I don't have a job. A lot of the last nine months, many of the everyday responsibilities have fallen completely on me.

No, that's not a complaint about being a housewife. I naturally assume a lot of the day to day things as my own. But, during the time I have been a housewife (remember I worked a full time job up until 2010 and last year), my husband has always been a partner.

During that time, I could always count on him to help with laundry, dishes, dogs, cleaning, etc. The last ninth months have changed him and taken a lot out of him.

The first seven months of this new job, he was working 60-70 hours per week. Oh my word! He would leave at 6:15 and not get home until 7 pm, working 6:45 to 6:30. With his 30 minute lunch break, that meant 11.25 hours per day. When he would get home, he would eat dinner and work another 2-4 hours. On the weekends, we would do something in the morning on Saturday and Sunday was church. Both afternoons were spent putting in another 10-12 hours. And, now that I really add that up, I realize he was easily working over 80 hours per week. And, getting paid for 40.

You can probably imagine the exhaustion that came with working so many hours. He had very little energy to do anything. When we would go out to dinner or try to do anything, he was so tired and I could see it in his eyes.

There's a physical and mental toll that number of hours takes on a person. I think he experienced them all.

Before I go into that, let me add a little about his working conditions. They aren't good. It is a small, family owned company and they seem to thrive on high drama. The work environment, from all I've heard, is abusive and toxic. Since this is a public blog, I won't say where he works or give too many more details at this time.

Let me also add a little about my husband. He is the kindest, most sensitive man who works hard and had an old school mentality about most things. He has a very fragile self esteem and craves love. The absolutely hardest thing he's ever experienced in life was losing his mom last summer.

Now, to set the stage properly, you have a sensitive person in the midst of grieving working in a toxic environment for over 80 hours a week.

I don't know about you, but that has train wreck written all over it to me.

My once easy going husband began having panic attacks, breaking down mentally and emotionally and would choose sleep over any other activity. He was not himself.

During this time, I was craving attention and time as I was getting no other place. My needs weren't met because they couldn't be. He had nothing left to give. I was getting angry and hurt. He lashed out at me because he could. I wouldn't fire him. Living with him turned from less of a partnership to more of being a hippo walking on eggshells.

You see where this is headed. It was ugly. The straw broke. I had to get real with him and get him to see that we couldn't live like this.

Thank the Lord, his eyes were opened and there was improvement. He got some help putting things in perspective. He started to become more of the man I knew and loved again.

Don't mistake what I am saying. It's not over. It's certainly not perfect. The work environment is still toxic and we cannot wait until he gets out of there. He still works way too many hours, but it's not excessive. He's way more receptive to me pointing out when the job starts to take over our lives.

Of course another job change sets up some instability and lots of potential changes for the future. That's another story for another time.

Nine Months Back

This weekend marks our ninth month back in KC. I would like to say that it is all great, but that simply wouldn't be true. 

Ok, so I had some misguided ideas of what life would be like when we moved back. I spent two long years wanting to get back to our life here and well, life wasn't exactly the same when we returned.

That was ok. Hard, but ok. I certainly thought by the ninth month, we would be more back on course. There was a pretty good chance that it would just take time to adjust back to a life here. 

It hasn't happened. 

I am sure I will address some of these with their own post, but there a few things that haven't gone the way we expected. My husband's job is just short of a nightmare. We have struggled to find our place in church. Our friends don't really seem to have a place for us, for the most part. I am bored out of my mind.

My boredom is probably the second hardest part. In Ohio, I at least had a church to volunteer/work at for most of our time there. I realize now just how much I took that for granted. It truly was a sanity saver, despite how hard it was at times. 

Neurotic, OCD, part-time employee with chronic insomnia isn't really on high demand here in the city. The chronic insomnia makes driving an issue for me and I still don't drive any highways or interstates. 

I have tried to connect with a couple non-profits for volunteer work. However, they have been so disorganized that they haven't been able to communicate well enough to answer questions. I am only human and only have so much tolerance for months of unanswered emails or phone calls. 

Since the first of November, I can tell you exactly how much social interaction I have had. Two lunch dates with one friend, 3 trips to Costco, 2 lunch dates with other friends and 1 evening in a hot tub with 2 friends. I know, don't complain. It's more than I had for over two years in Ohio.

I'm going to be very real for a second and say something that accurately reflects my heart at times. I don't live in Ohio any more! I honestly don't see people any more than I did when I lived there. Between friends who came to see us and our visits back home, I spent more time with friends and family when I lived 12 hours away. 

Even though it's hard, I don't openly complain about it and am overly grateful for the times I do spend with friends. 

Rudeness

Lately, it seems like I've seen more than an average amount of rudeness. Toward me. Toward others. Within the family. In complete strangers.

I'm not sure exactly what to think of it. I'm starting to wonder if this is just a societal decline that I've somehow missed while I was tucked away in Ohio or if it is just a by product of a nasty election.

On several occasions the past few months, I've witnessed people being rude for no reason. Sometimes it's cutting people off in traffic and other times it's ramming a cart into someone at the store. There's no apology, not even an acknowledgement that they've done something wrong.

Yesterday, I asked a question of a cashier at the store. She was short, told me I was absolutely wrong and offered no explanation as to why. Att did the same thing. What happened to the customer is always right mentality? It's gone!

When we told our families we were moving home, they all seemed excited and happy. Since we've been back, it's been completely different. We've barely seen them. Any time with them is contentious and hateful things are said and done. We haven't really changed. In fact, we may have but in positive ways. We are happier. We've had texts and phone calls go unanswered. We've been blocked from social media.

I typically don't rag on my friends, but it seems the bug has bitten them too. People have been short and well, rude. We've taken it all, mostly, with forgiving hearts. I've even had to cut off contact with two dear friends because I just couldn't tolerate the rudeness that seemed personally pointed at me.

Don't think that this season hasn't come with a  great deal of personal reflection. Am I repelling people with an attitude that I don't see? Do I bring this negativity on myself?

The truth is, I don't know. Maybe. Possibly I've been too arrogant with this move home. By that, I mean I went through a time of being thankful for answered prayers and constantly saying so. I know sometimes people don't take that well. We, as humans, sometimes do not like to see someone have answered prayers when ours are not.

It's possible I've turned people away with my own attitude. It was a rough, dry season in Ohio. We capped it off by losing my mother in law in a traumatic way and the burden of another move falling completely on me. I came home excited, but tired. I know I've had very little tolerance at times with a bent toward high anxiety.

In reality, there's a good chance it's a combination of all of the above. But it feels incredibly personal. It's lonely being at home everyday of every week of every month. The phone never rings and I think I've gotten maybe five texts since Christmas that weren't from my husband or from someone not needing something. It's lonely, but for now maybe it's a safe place to be.

Church Exhaustion

It is a bit sad to admit, but I'm exhausted with church. This isn't like my past difficulties where I get mad or frustrated with people or situations and refuse to go. Not at all! I'm simply exhausted. 

There's a very realistic part of me who knows that church won't always be joyful or enjoyable. But, I also know it can be both without having to constantly fight for it. Fighting for it is what I've been doing for several years now. 

We went from a very rough time of leaving a church to leaving another church we lived and feeling abandoned by them. Then, well, there's Ohio. The struggles were one after another until circumstances moved us. Then we rejoin a previous church after a few weeks of being made to feel like we were home. Then, reality set in. It's a very big church. We live too far away. We were failing to connect. 

We visited a perfectly fine church five minutes away and that's when I knew the problem was me. It was fine. The people were nice. The pastor is someone I know and have communicated with on occasion. But, I found myself picking it apart. Tearing it from limb to limb like an angry lion. It wasn't deserving, but my heart wasn't open. 

In the 3 1/2 years before we left our first church, I volunteered in the office. I saw the ugliest side of church. There's something even more raw, more real about people in a church when they face big changes, pastorial changes. There was a distrust of leadership amongst the natives and it was ugly. When you are answering the phones and the first face a person sees when they walk in the office, you can't help but see the ugly in all it's glory. 

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't all bad. There were good times. But those were overshadowed by uncertainty and human flesh. Keep in mind, God used this time as only He could do. Unhappy people left and are thriving elsewhere. That church is thriving. It all works out in Gods kingdom. 

I would be telling a lie if I said that time period hadn't left a deep scar on me. Maybe even a still small wound. A wound that got ripped wide open in Ohio. 

Church was just hard there. There's no other way to put it. Not unlike the community, the church is unaccepting of outsiders. We were there for over two years. I volunteered 2/3 of that time and was on staff 1/3 of that time. I didn't feel any more connected to that church the day we left than the our first day. I don't even need to go into why, just know that it was ugly. 

There was still good for me personally. I learned a lot about myself and my faith grew by leaps and bounds. God uses that time to teach me that I only needed Him because He was all I had. I learned that my relationship with God isn't reliant on a church or religion. Those things are in place so that my relationship can grow, but no church will ever be more important than my God. He is my foundation. 

I want church. I want to be in church. Serve the church. Love the church. I want to be in a church where it feels more like a home than a place a go for two hours each week. I want to feel the joy of worshipping with other believers. I want to enjoy going and not feel like I'm meeting an obligation. 

Maybe the wound is still open. Or maybe I'm just tired of the fight. Or maybe I'm just content right now not allowing the ugliness of church to alter my view of God. I just can't seem to make myself go. Don't want to. I also know in this moment, I won't give any church a fair chance. 

My husband and others have often accused me of setting unrealistic expectations of people in church and out. I don't know how many times I've heard people in church are sinners and they'll let you down. Yea, I get it. Experienced it fully. I'd say, I've learned very well how to set extremely low expectations of church and Christians. And ya know, they meet and exceed those expectations. And I rarely am disappointed because I know what to expect. Occasionally, I'm surprised. 

Even so, I'm just tired. Exhausted. I don't have it in me to put on a smile and pretend to be happy in finding where we belong right now. 

Settling into Normal

What is normal? It seems to be this floating target for everyone, but in reality it is just what it is. I think for most people, normal is going to work, dealing with children, cooking, cleaning, etc. Really, it is something that looks more like a rat race for survival. And, if everyone makes it through the day alive, then it was successful.

I don't really fall into that normal. Maybe 40-60 years ago, my life would be considered more normal. But today it's more abnormal.

There aren't many middle aged stay at home wives these days who have no children. I am a rare breed and my normal isn't the same as my peers. Most women my age are either stay at home moms or work a full time job while being a full time wife, mother, housekeeper and taxi driver.

This makes it difficult for me to have a lot of adult contact during the days. As I was reflecting on this today, three tings came to mind.
1. The reason this is my normal.
2. I'm thankful for this opportunity.
3. Would I really change it?

I spent the better part of the past three years coping with my issues in very practical ways. I didn't have counseling or really anyone to be super honest with most of the time. So I managed by ignoring, avoiding and hiding from myself. Living as if there were no issues.

We all know that only works so long. It was a full time job hiding the PTSD and anxiety from the world. Don't get me wrong, I was good. But it wasn't good for me. Hiding only caused me to develop a more definitive problem with OCD and heightened my ADD tendencies. But, I was good. So good that I convinced myself I was capable of going back to school and working. I'll get to that later.

When I think about all of it, I have to consider the reason. I am the way I am because of someone else's depravity. I know. I know. Rise above and move on. Right? That's not so easy to do when a lifetime of torture and abuse has left you with debilitating mental illness. I'm not over dramatic, it's the truth. Absusers have left me with scars so deep that they manifested in mental illness. It doesn't mean I'm not intelligent or that I'm not a fully functioning adult. But it does mean that I cannot live a functioning life in a way that others deem normal.

I heard a loud commotion outside earlier. I instantly fell into a flashback of being beaten. Stuck in a loop until the smell of burning cookies brought me out of it. My husband touched my mouth in the car last month. I locked up and couldn't move. I felt the tears falling down my cheeks and the hyperventilating, but I couldn't do anything. I had to wait until that fear left my body. Watching a show, I heard a boy crying. Those cries turned into me irrationally searching for my brother because I feared he was being raped. I hid in a corner, shaking and crying until my little dog licked my face.

Those things are all part of PTSD and happen often and everywhere. I have to admit that those things keep me pretty well secluded. There are days when my anxiety is so bad I can't move from one spot. It's not conducive to living a normal working life. I may well have lived a normal life if I'd had a normal life.

There are more people like me, I know I'm not the only one. A lot of those people don't have the luxury of staying home. Many are on welfare or bounce between jobs. Don't think for a second that I'm not thankful for the opportunity to stay home. I know I'm fortunate. I know I have an amazing husband who goes to a crappy job daily so I don't have to. He is selfless and never expects anything of me. He's never once given me grief over not working. Yes, it would be easier financially if I was able to contribute.

That being said, I am thankful for the time I have at home. Not only does it allow me time for mental healthcare, but I've learned a great deal. I've learned how to be a wife. I have taken over the responsibilities of the home. My husband will help, but I do all the cooking and most of the laundry and cleaning. It's a long story, but our marriage was very lopsided in those things for a long time.

Would I change it? Sure. I'd go back if I could and turned in every abuser who convinced I could not. Of course I would have liked to have a more normal life. For the hear and now, I've tried hard to change things. School. Work. Let me be honest, I failed at both. It was too soon. School created even more anxiety for me. It also created an expense that we couldn't afford on one income. Working was hard in different ways. The anxiety and PTSD was a problem, but partially because my coworkers were up against something they didn't know. It was too soon to go back to work, even in an office where I primarily worked alone.

It would be easy to say I'm a failure and give up. But I haven't. I don't know if I'll ever be able to work again. That's not just my opinion. I have a very wise therapist who can't really say if I'll ever be able to work again. He's told me over and over that my case is complex and successful treatment may mean just being able to live without constant flashbacks or other symptoms. Of course I have higher hopes than that. Right now, I don't think I would make a change. I know there's still a lot of healing that needs to happen before I'm capable of making a change.

Until that day, this is my normal. It's abnormal to the world, but all I know to be normal.

Checklists and Change

It's cold out, so I'm sitting here with the fireplace going. The dogs are all sleeping in a variety of places nearby. There's Christian music playing in the kitchen and the smell of fresh bread in the air. I'm bouncing my mind between nothingness in games on the iPad and blankly staring at the flames dancing.

I began to notice  this empty feeling inside me. Not that it's new, just not recognizable in my usual manufactures busyness.

We, really me, thought moving back would be a solution for all that was wrong in life. It has been in many ways. It's what we needed individually and as a family. We needed to be home.

One thing moving to Ohio did for me was strengthen my faith. With a husband who was emotionally absent the first year, no friends and little to keep me busy or sane, I learned dependence on God. He gave me what I need to get through. I wouldn't say I felt like I had an abundance of anything through that time, but what I had was sufficient.

We weren't overly plugged in to the church there. Remember, we were outsiders and that applied to the church as well. However, I had two solid years of volunteering that led into a paid position. Again, not perfect by any means, but it was enough to keep me busy.

So I had things to keep me busy that seemed ordained by God  and my God. It never felt like a checklist for faith, but a legit relationship.

Church was the one area where we had zero concerns when moving. We would go back to our previous church and slide right in where we left off. Sounds like a workable plan. But, it hasn't been and it feels like we've become more of checklists Christians.

We live 30 minutes from the church. When we got back, that seemed reasonable since we drove an hour to anything in Ohio. As time has gone by, the drive seems more daunting. We easily pass 30 churches on the drive.

But we've found other things that have started to weigh on us.

The church isn't the same as when we left. They still follow biblical truth, that hasn't changed. The church has exploded in size since we first joined three years. I think quite naturally, it has lost some of the quaint closeness. While we know a ton of people there, we rarely see them because crowd sizes are so huge.

We've seen an increase in members from our previous church. Some came all at once about the time we left and others have trickled in over the past three years. The church has lost some of its uniqueness and gained a lot of our precious church. Traditions, teaching, teachers, ministry leaders, etc. It's probably easier for us to see how the church has slightly transitioned to a version of our previous church. I think it's easier to see big changes when when you aren't there for two years. Not that any of it is bad, but we do have to consider if it is for us.

Speaking of our previous church, that seems to bare some weight in this for us and not only because it feels like a very similar church. We joined this church the same week we found out we had to move. We had been there four months, visiting off and on. For lack of a better way to explain, it feels like it was our rebound church. It was a church to be away from the stuff and heal our broken hearts. We didn't get a chance to really get plugged in at all.

This church helped us head to Ohio with a much healthier view of church. We were and are thankful for that. But now we are back here and have started to question how practical it is for us. It's hard to get plugged in when you have at least an hour travel time to any class or event. Because of that disconnect, I think it's been easy to make church and faith a checklist.

We go on Sunday. Listen to Christian music. Try to be good people. Give where we can.

I haven't forgotten my need for God. But church helps connect us to God. I know it's not like that for everyone.

All of this has been on our hearts the past few weeks. I know it's Gods way of drawing us back to Him. He pushes is ever so gently out of our comfort zone. Or maybe He kicks us abruptly so we will hang on for the ride. Either way, we've gotten the message.

Last week as we talked all the way to church about this, we had no clue what was next. I mean it's easy to wash, rinse and repeat when you are comfortable. The pastor spoke later week about the importance of being involved in your community and living to to bless those around you. We both left feeling convicted that we need to do just that. In our community. We felt the message spoke to our hearts, confirming that we need to be more involved and have more than a checklist place in our lives for church and God.

Here's to more change!

Softened Heart

From 1994 to 2016, I had a mother in law. Sure, those earlier years were while I was dating my husband, but she had already assumed the role.

Since the very beginning, I've had so many people tell me that they wished my mother in law was theirs. She was a loved and respected woman. Known by everyone in town because she worked in the school system. No doubt, she deserved that love and respect.

To me, she was a much different person than her public persona. She was hateful and mean, making personal attacks every time we were alone. She didn't like that I was taking over as the love of her oldest son's life. And she wasn't afraid to let me know. Honestly, she was like that with every in law even if she didn't show it amongst the family.

This was a woman who tortured me mentally in my young relationship with my husband. She guilted him when he chose memover her. She never let me forget that I was from a lesser family. Don't even get me started on our wedding. She was insufferable and would be the one thing I would say ruined our wedding.

In my younger years, it ruffled my feathers and made me want to fight. I wasn't so gracious in those first 5-7 years when I had to fight for a place in my husband's heart. I was never mean or rude. I was never hateful or said mean things. I avoided. I chose to not spend time sucking up to someone who didn't like me.

There was a time when things changed or so I thought. I began to not care what she thought of me and embraced her for the son she raised. I mean she had done at least one thing right for me. I began to show her respect even when there was none in return. I thought we had gotten to a somewhat loving relationship before she got sick.

In those few years before the Alzheimer's took over, she was someone I trusted and shared my life with and considered as close as I could have to family who loved me.

Since her death, I have gotten to know one of her friends and coworker. After a few months of getting to know each other through social media and at the funeral, this woman opened the floodgates of honesty.

Despite what I thought, my mother in law and father in law never did like me. They didn't want us to marry and had a firm disdain for me. They didn't love me. They didn't care about me. Anything that my husband shared negative about me was quickly spread around the family and town. I was never talked about in a positive way.

I made sure to confirm that this was through the entire time and not just the first few years. Cause I was just sure that my Christian mother in law had gotten past her feelings about me. I thought we had at least a few years of living in harmony. Not true.

Maybe I was more delusional over my father in law. I knew it was in the realm of possibility that my mother in law never liked me. But I never thought that of my father in law. I thought he was the only one in the family who had always loved me.

You can say in laws are supposed to dislike their children's spouses. And maybe that's so. But these people hid it well. Well enough to make me actually believe they loved me for a time during the past 22 years.

I'm not even sure how to file this away. My heart had softened toward my mother in law, especially in her illness and death. But there's no way to deal with this with her now. She's gone. I could talk with my father in law, but he's so filled with anger toward everyone.

I can honestly say that I I don't hate anyone. I don't approve of things and there are things I dislike. But, that doesn't include family who I have a current relationship with today.

I Miss Her Too

My husband has been leaving extra early for work and coming home super late. Yea, not much change for us with this new job. It's left me alone on some long, cold days stuck inside without much to do. My mind wanders and reflects. I listen to music and reminisce. 

Something big happened in my life this summer. I know you know this, but my husband's mother died. Most of the time, that's my perspective. His mom died. But here's the thing about it. She was my mother in law. 

I lost a family member too. One of the biggest influences on my life died. I haven't really been able to own that. 

When I've tried to share my grief, my loss, my husband doesn't hear it. He's a comparer. Not sure if that's a real word, but that's what he does. He compares everything. And when comparing grief, his is greater. It was his mom. So, in his eyes, I have no grief compared to him. 

But I do. 

Don't get me wrong, I can see why he wouldn't think I have reason to grieve. There were times in the last 22 years when we didn't get along. She wasn't nice. I wasn't good enough for her boy. I made mistakes. She didn't like me and let me know it. 

Through all of it, I never disprespected her or treated her in vengeful ways. I never talked down to her and never shared any of my frustration about her with her. I showed her love when it was hard and always respected her role in my husband's life. I never fought her guilt trips with her directly. I won't lie, I fought many fights with my husband. She constantly put me in a position where I had to fight for my marriage. 

Our relationship wasn't easy. What was easy was loving and respecting her for the mother she had been. Not perfect, but she helped form my husband into the man he is. She taught him love and respect. She taught him perserverance and morals. She made sure he had a foundation where you love God and family. 

Before she got sick, I used to send her a thank you card every year on my husband's birthday. I was thankful for her. 

Besides that, she was a role model for me in loving my husband. I watched her love and be by her husband's side faithfully until she got sick. She may have been the first role model in that respect. She taught me a lot too. She was an encourager, especially when she was able to set personally feelings aside. She showed me that if you open your doors, feed your family, they tend to stick together. When she got sick, that stopped and the family fell apart. 

She, even when she didn't like me, was there for me. She helped me with school documents and flat tires and dogsitting. She made sure I was included and always had a place to stay. 

I can't go as far as saying she was like a mother to me. That wouldn't be honest. She was my mother in law. We had an in law type relationship. And that's ok. I believe that's the way it was meant to be for us and it still led to a loving relationship for both of us. 

So, when I start thinking about the holidays and reflecting on the year, I realize how much I miss her. I've missed her for a long time, but this year is harder. 

A couple years ago, Christmas with her was miserable. Her husband wasn't very kind to her. He kept expecting her to k ow who people were and recall info. She hadn't been able to do that for years and it was his denial. She had high anxiety and eventually ran to the other room to finish the day with a blanket over her head. 

Before she took off, she looked at me and thanked me. She said I'm not sure who you are, but thank you for helping me. I knew that year that Christmas would never be the same. I knew she would be so sad at the condition of her mind. 

Honestly, with a holiday and birthday party behind us, I can say that things are much less stressful with her gone. I hate that, but it's truth. 

Regardless, my heart is breaking. I miss her. I miss her so much. You don't have someone in your life for 22 years without some strong attachment. And I've said this before, but having her gone physically is way harder than just having her gone mentally. 

Silent Battle

Do not mistake any of what I am about to say as me being unhappy with being back in KC. I'm not unhappy. But, that isn't necessarily an indication that everything is perfect in life.

As we are deep into the holidays, my husband is completely focused on what he's lost this year. He lives very few moments in the here and now. When he is present, he cannot find anything to be happy about.

I've left him alone. I can't say anything. In his grief, he either dismisses me or tears my head off. It's easier to stay silent. So, silent I stay.

It's a busy season, for everyone but me. I haven't found a social groove yet and of course, there are no holiday gatherings for me with friends or family. Maybe that's ok, I'm not sure I would really want to be around people right now.

While things swirl around me, I'm stuck here fighting my own battles silently. Nobody knows, just me. It's a bit reminiscent of living in Ohio. Plodding through all that's going on in life without anyone to notice or be able to help carry the load.

And it's a heavy one. Outside of the usual holiday stuff and husband thing, I have a short list that feels like a million pounds.

Last week, I finally got the nerve to reach out to a friend with some of it. I was told point blank that she didn't have any place in her life for my stuff and couldn't even say she'd pray for or with me about any of it.

First of all, I sort of appreciate the honesty. However, this person dumps every bit of her life on me. I've never ever said I just didn't want it. She doesn't think twice about dropping dumb drama on me that's completely irrelevant to anything in life, while I'm melting down over my own stuff.

Second, rejection of any kind is the hardest thing for me to overcome. I turn into a brave little girl any time I get the nerve to ask for help. It's a huge thing for me. I rarely had the courage to ask for help when I was child and it takes me back. Then, rejection in any form, it takes me even further back to the times when I did ask for help and was ignored or punished.

So, I pack it all up and put it away again. We aren't talking about little things here. I wish. They are big life things. Things that drive the average person into depression and anxiety.

For now, I put one foot in front of the other and do my best to make it day to day. I pray. I pray for help with these things, knowing that I'm not really at a place to ask for help again. It is a lot like living Ohio. I felt so often that it was just God and I there. Same here at this moment.

It is Christmas time. I'll smile. I'll tell everyone that everything is great. And that will be ok. I'll be celebrating the birth of the savior who came to save me from this temporary earthly pain.

Not My Cross

Today would have been my grandmother's 81st birthday. It seemed like the perfect time to write about something that has been on my heart since this summer.

We learned my grandma was terminally ill with lung cancer on July 22, 1998. My mother-in-law passed away exactly 18 years later, nearly to the hour from that moment.

Even though 18 years had passed, there was so much I remembered as though it had happened yesterday. The emotions, the planning, the pain, it all felt fresh.

I knew, within reason, the progression of death. I was able to share with my husband and is his sister some of what to expect. My mother-in-law had scabs from dry lips. I knew the scabs would stay and look horrible after death if we didn't care for them while she was laying in the hospital bed. I was able to prep them for what they would need for the funeral and suggested cleaning and caring for her so her hair and nails could be done once she passed.

While it was useful, it felt awful for me. I knew those things because I had seen them, lived them out in real and painful ways.

Nearly two months after Barbara's passing, we had a dear friend lose her mother to the same disease. Again, it was walking closely and living out those painful memories. I suppose it is a necessary part of life. Reliving those painful experiences, hoping to do things better or at least without as much confusion during a time when you feel you're already in a fog.

So much of it has been a struggle.

My grandmother died one week after diagnosis. My friend's mom passed away 8 years after Alzheimers diagnosis, but only hours after becoming critically ill.

For the life of me, I cannot understand why we were forced to sit for two weeks with Barbara while she died. Was 6-7 years of Alz not painful enough? Did we all need to go through more suffering? Why?

Those two weeks have pushed me to ask God why, something I don't often do. He has not offered any clear answer, no direction as to a purpose.

I see our friend and my husband grieving, struggling with the loss. Wondering why this has happened? Asking how to go on with life. Angry that their moms are gone and nothing can fill the void. I find myself angry because I can't be enough. I question why God can't and won't give them a peace that is not of this world.

The only thing I have found to be comforting is this...It is not my cross to bear. I can walk with them, hold their hands. But the loss, it's not mine. It's not theirs either.

God never designed us to take all the grief or all the pain on ourselves. He never designed us to carry it all. That's why he gave us Jesus. Alzheimers wasn't even theirs to carry. They weren't punished and they weren't chosen for the disease.

They, like many others, had a disease because we live in a fallen world. We were designed to be perfect, but live in a fallen world where disease and pain can take us down.

There is only one promise in all of it. We will be made whole, healed, perfect. But, that doesn't ever happen in its entirety this side of heaven. Our promise, our hope, our peace is that these mothers are whole again now. God has fulfilled his promise in both of them.

Painful here in my flesh, but that is beautiful. My hope and prayer for my husband and friend is that they can hold onto that beauty.

Things are quite different when death occurs without that hope. Unlike my husband and friend, I don't believe my grandmother was converted before death. I don't have a hope of heaven with her. Don't get me wrong, it will be a happy day if I am wrong and she awaits in heaven. All signs point to that not being the case.

The promise of heaven, for me, makes grief a little bit easier. Death without belief is far more painful for a lifetime.

This Holiday Season - Part 2

Sometimes I forget that I am not the only one in this house who can have a tough time. This year has taught me that. It's taught me that sometimes I have to be the strong one. Sometimes I have to be the supporter.

My husband has dealt with a little bit of the post move emotions. He wasn't happy in Ohio, but he wasn't miserable. He also knew that it wasn't going to be possible for us to stay long term in Ohio.

Leaving his job of 17 years was the hardest part of our move. He is a loyal, dedicated person, a golden retriever of sorts. Big changes aren't his thing. He struggled. Even though he was unhappy and his company had no plans of making him happy, leaving was painful. He had built relationships. He also knew the evil as opposed to going where he did not.

Not only was leaving hard, but adapting to his new job has been harder than expected. The job isn't quite what it was advertised and he has been hit with a lot of stuff that no employee should have to deal with in their first two months on the job.

But the grief...the grief has hit him hard, knocking him to his knees.

There's nothing I can do. Nothing I can say. In fact, I usually do and say the wrong things and make it worse.

Everything seems to make his grief worse. His family dynamic has probably been the hardest. He has his dad and three other siblings. Each one is grieving in their own way and none of them are the same. There is also a break in the family, has been for several years now. There has been a lot of hurt amongst the siblings that can't seem to heal.

In addition, his dad seems to favor his younger two brothers. I know that it's normal for siblings to feel that way even though it isn't true. It does seem to be true here. He makes trips to KC the majority of weekends, but never makes the trip to see his oldest son. That is a hard reality for my husband, making him feel very unloved.

Now that we are entering the holidays, it has all smacked my husband in the face. The family dysfunction and the firsts of everything without his mom.

It is so hard to see him hurting. Who knew it would be more painful to be without her than to have her and her not be present in mind. I know his hurting will never go away completely, but will change over time. I also know that as much as I want him to not go through it, he has to. Grief is something we all must go through and nothing can stop it.

This Holiday Season - Part 1

When our whirlwind summer came to an end, one thing was waiting right there to smack us in the face. Reality!

That saying about staying busy keeps your mind off things is incredibly true. But also true, the thing you want to avoid will still be there when you slow down.

We each had the same things waiting for us, just in varying degrees. Grief and a multitude of emotions regarding our move.

For me...

Grief hit me. It was the sheer enormity of what we had been through this summer. This pillar of my husband's life was just...gone. I grieved over her, but mostly over what this loss would be for my husband. I grieved for him. For his pain, for his loss and for what I knew would be a struggle to move forward. 

I was probably hit with more of the emotions over the move. There were three things, I've had to work through. The emotions over leaving Ohio, feeling forgotten and the upcoming holidays.

It would be an understatement to say I was miserable in Ohio. I hated it. I was resentful. I couldn't leave fast enough. I have probably felt more guilt over not missing it than anything.

Don't mistake what I am saying. I loved our home, surroundings and how we grew during that time. But, that wasn't enough. I learned that I must have relationships. Real, trusting relationships. I did not have that in Ohio. I had acquaintances. I knew people. I had a couple people who I might have considered a friend, but the lack of communication since I moved would lead me to believe even that was dicey at best. 

I have never been in a place where people were so incredibly rude. Keep in mind, I don't mean everyone. But, my experiences weren't good. I found a lot of people who treated me as though I was beneath them and as though I didn't belong. 

There's not much use in going into this any further. I have moved on, literally. Forgiven. Forgotten. Let go of it all really. Outside of occasional Facebook contact, I don't have relationships with anyone. It is really ok. We do not have any plans to ever go back, so there will be zero chance we will ever see them again. 

One thing I am currently working through is the hurt I felt while in Ohio that was based here. Those feelings of being forgotten. It's a fine process of forgiveness, moving on and learning which relationships are most important now. Some have been easily repaired, while others have not. I know this is a part of life moving on and people changing. 

The upcoming holidays were a big part of what hit me. I skated through the holidays in Ohio relatively easy. We were either traveling or far away from it all or had visitors. I was fearful that the old emotions would creep back in and make them hard.

That hasn't been the case. There have been some emotion and there might be more. But, I started the holiday season by having my niece and nephew a few days. It did kick up some emotions, but not the overwhelming kind I had in the past. 

I'll share Kent's next.

Time Flies By

Time seems to be moving fast and in monthly increments. It has been four months since my mother in law passed away. It has been two months since we moved to KC. It is only a month until Christmas.

It has also been two months since I sat in a hotel room and wrote.

We are finally settling into a routine, finally finished working through the home issues.

In the days before we signed on our house, the sellers did not want us in the house. We would only later find out why. It wasn't the disaster that we had when we moved to Ohio, but it was a mess.

The house was filthy. Toilets were covered in feces, all three of them. Appliances looked as though they had not once ever been cleaned. White carpeted floors had been stained since our initial walk through, including pink nail polish and orange paint. Everything had to be cleaned, cleaned and cleaned again. Carpets had to be professionally cleaned.

There was a mess of trash and junk in the backyard. There was also a rickety giant trampoline and child's playhouse. We cleaned the yard and sent the toys with a friend.

There is not a wall in the house that does not have at least a dozen holes. Most are nail holes, but there were some larger ones. Oh, and they didn't bother to leave one bucket of paint for the color that the entire interior is painted. Ugh!

Our utilities were a mess as well. They did not abide by the contract and had them shut off. So, the house was a whopping 89 degrees on moving day. What fun!

There were a calamity of things that happened, but thankfully, we have moved past them all. We finished by getting the fireplace fixed last week. 

We will have to replace carpet in 3/4 of the house, HVAC, two doors, three toilets, one shower and one bathtub. All in due time. 

While dealing with the issues of the house, we also had problems with the move. It started with our bed not surviving a week upright in storage. Something inside it broke and we were off to get a new mattress the day after we moved in. And, with our luck as it is, we have also had to replace both the washer and dryer since we moved. 

Beyond the bed, our movers were a problem. We had many things get broken, destroyed or lost. They also turned our white carpeted stairs black. The good news is that they were stand up guys. They paid for carpet cleaning and to replace everything that was broken or lost. 

Despite all that we dealt with to get here, we held onto one thing through it all. We are home! We would go to bed exhausted and mentally drained, but thankful we were home. I'm not sure if this would have happened any place else, we would have been able to meet it with any grace at all. 

Now that we are home, it is time to enjoy. 

A Moment of Clarity

My mother in law had not had much clarity for several years. It was Christmas 2008 since she had recognized me.

ALZ had stolen her memory and her emotion. Sure she would get frustrated and angry, but she didn't show much emotion other than that. She hadn't cried or laughed. In fact, she was reduced to the equivalent of a 5-6 year old in mental and emotional capacity.

There were two moments of clarity during these three weeks. One for me and one from her.

One evening, my sister in law, niece and father in law all set making funeral plans by her bedside. She was awake and non verbal. It became very clear to me that she was listening. The problem was that she wasn't a 75 year old woman who was coming to grips with her mortality laying there. She was a young child laying there.

Can you imagine talking about a funeral in front of a 5-6 year old? I imagine she was scared and confused.

I began to get very angry. Inside I was yelling stop! It didn't feel right. It wasn't right. It had to stop.

The Wednesday before she passed away, she was laying in her bed looking at me. I was holding her hand and running my hands through her hair. She looked at me and smiled. That wasn't out of the norm. She smiled at everyone and told everyone she loved them. It was her thing.

But this smile was different. Just my husband and I were in the room. I told him to look at her, which was hard for him. Her eyes looked like someone was in there.

This was the day after the funeral planning ordeal. I instantly started to think about how I would want people to treat me. Treat me like I'm loved, human, confused and like you care. Treat me like a human. A real person.

So, I said the first thing that came to mind. I asked if she would rather be camping than laying here. She loved camping. Her eyes swelled and tears ran down her cheeks and she nodded yes. She had not cried, showed emotion. What was this?

I said her that I thought she would rather be camping and spending time with her kids. Big tears and big nods. I said you love your kids, don't you? Big smile, big tears and huge nod.

In that moment, I had her. It was all her and only her. She was there. She knew who I was, who Kent was. She knew who her kids were and she wanted to be with them. She was sad. I told her that she was going to be ok and that Jesus would take care of her. One more nod, more tears and then she closed her eyes.

After that, she wouldn't open her eyes much and would never communicate again.

I wish I had gotten it on video to share with the family. In that moment, you never imagine it'll be so brief or the last time.

Not that I am complaining, but it seems so wrong that I got her last moment of clarity. I wasn't one of her kids. I wish they had gotten it.

I suppose I got one more moment of clarity for myself after that day. It is a privilege to love someone, to share your life with someone who is so loved. I feel that way in my own relationship now. I want to love my husband as much as his mom did, so unconditionally. I want to honor and respect the love she had for him. I want to remind him of how much she loved him.

Funeral and Family

I have learned that when there is a major death in the family, one of two things happens. Either the family comes together or they fall apart. Mine, fell apart. This one, fell apart.

Each person has their own ideas and that never works when everyone is in high emotion. Some siblings planned, while others fell apart. It was a mess.

She looked lovely. She looked a lot like she did before she got sick. That was nice. Probably the nicest part of the service. She was well loved, it was a full house.

Unfortunately, nobody offered any personal info about her to the guy who did the service. So, it was a very impersonal service that didn't do justice to the person she was.

I did my best to stay out of the way and support my husband. I failed at times, but tried.

It was a trying, emotional time. Nobody was ready to let her go.

She had been sick for several years. She had known most of her family for at least six years or longer. We had been grieving and wanting her back for a long time.

I selfishly had wished for this day for a long time. Not because I hated her, but because I knew she would never have wanted to be the way she was. I knew she would be angry with what ALZ had done to her.

The day of her funeral, I had to most guilt I have ever felt. I wanted her back. I wanted my husband to have more time with her. I wanted her to bring everyone together. I wanted her wisdom and love. I wanted just one more hour with her, one more day.

As they wheeled her casket down to the car, it became so final. The finality that death brings here on earth. She was gone. As I saw the casket, felt the finality, my knees began to shake and buckle. I turned around and my friend, Tracy, was there. She grabbed me in a hug that kept me from falling to the ground and held me for what seemed like forever.

The graveside was short and sweet. It was there that I saw and felt the love of so many. In fact, I think there are so many who love this family more than they love one another.

We finished off with the meal and headed back home.

Hell Continued

The next morning, we asked the doctor if giving her fluid was helping her or hindering her. He said it was keeping her alive, but for what? She would not recover.

Throughout this process, her blood pressure and heart rate were dangerously high as well. We were actually a little surprised that she had not suffered a massive stroke or heart attack.

That morning, the family decided it was time to take meds and fluids away from her and give her pain meds only. She had very little ability to respond and slept most of the time. She had developed apnea and snored loudly.

When the fluid was gone, we expected her to go quickly. That wasn't the case. She was a tough old bird. Healthy in most ways. Strong heart and in her right mind, had a strong will to live.

His sister, dad, niece and us all stayed vigil at the hospital, never leaving her alone. We made sure she stayed clean and the nurses treated her well. Some didn't. We held her hand and put wash cloths on her head as fever set in during the last days. We used chapped stick to keep her lips hydrated as her mouth dried out.

We were miserable. It was hard watching her slowly die. Everyone of us dealt with guilt and anguish. Everyone questioned if it was the right decision, even if briefly.

The last Wednesday, we got a call at 4 am telling us the time was near. When we got there, we heard the "death rattle" and we thought they were right. The minutes and hours ticked by. The death rattle is a mechanical sound that haunts you for a long time. It doesn't even sound like it is coming from her.

She did finally quiet down, but stayed strong. Over the next day, her breathing became more shallow, fever increased, BP and pulse both began to fall.

That Friday, we had made a plan to take some time away and go to KC. Kent had an interview and we wanted to look at houses. Also, we had to take some time here and there to catch our breath and get a break from the heaviness of it all.

Friday, a little before noon, his sister called to let us know she was gone.