I Love Lucy

It has taken me a solid week to write this post. A week to talk about my little dog without becoming a crying mess.

Let me start back at the beginning. Our little cockapoo, actually the largest and oldest of our dogs, had a dry hacking cough for a few years. It started way before we moved to Ohio and progressively got worse. No vet that we took her to could really pinpoint the problem. We just knew that after she laid down, she hacked.

Two vets in Ohio diagnosed her with a kidney disease that was to be fatal within months. Two years later, she was still very much alive and she still had the hack. After moving back to KC, we took her to our original vets office and she had an ear infection. Nothing on the hack still. Keep in mind, it wasn't our previous vet, just his office.

We then took her to a recommended vet near our house. That vet ran a battery of tests and told me she suspected Cushings, but her kidneys were perfectly fine. Additional expensive tests showed no proof of Cushings. I was told she was perfectly healthy. That was in February. I took her home, still with her hack that was getting worse and still feeling as though I had no answers.

In April, we left her with a terrible dog sitter who left her kenneled for 16-20 hours per day. When we came home, she had lost control of her bowels. Evidently a dramatic change in habits, like kenneling for lengthy periods, will cause a dog to have severe bowel distress. She couldn't hold her poop in and she was pooping everywhere without any control.

I took her to the vet closest to our house. They also ran a long list of tests, but included a series of X-rays. No vet had ever done an X-ray. The X-rays showed what they suspected. Her bowel was inflamed and about four times its normal size. She would need several days of IV meds to get rid of the inflammation and get her back to normal. It was a costly fix to the neglect she had suffered.

The tests showed several other things that had not previously been caught. She had an under active thyroid. She also had arthritis in her back and back legs. Since we weren't there for the hacking, I hadn't mentioned it. The vet did ask me if she had that problem. She then showed me on the X-ray that my little dog had an enlarged heart.

Her little heart was about 1/2 the size bigger than it should be. The vet said she should be just fine on a new heart med. So we left with three new meds after her hospital stay. Within a week, there was no improvement. I took her back and the vet added a medication and increased another. A week later, still no improvement. I took her back and they increased two medications and sent us on our way. Two weeks later, we saw improvement.

Over the next 3 1/2 months, we would see our portly little dog become skin and bones. The vet insisted the meds were doing their job and she would live for years longer as long as we kept her on the meds. The meds at this point were nine per day and running us close to $300 per month. I was going in every other week to pick up more meds. She had her own pill box so we never forgot a pill.

About three weeks ago, I noticed that she was not herself. She would sleep most of the day or at least lay nearly lifeless watching the other dogs. She would exert herself in the mornings and when my husband came home. I started asking questions about the amount of meds she was on and found that she was on a larger than human dose of lasix. Things weren't adding up. Our dog had acted like a puppy just two weeks early and could barely move now.

I took her to the vet on Monday. They again did a long list of expensive tests. They gave a steroid shot against my wishes and diagnosed her with chronic bronchitis. They said she was doing great and sent us on our way with another new med and four additional pills per day.

She wasn't ok. Her lungs were filling and she was unable to keep infection from settling into them. She had lost nearly 10 lbs in 4 months and she had gotten down to barely eating a handful of food each day.

After I took her home from the vet that day, I watched for the next two days with the looming reality that I knew my girl and could see in her eyes that the end was approaching. I am not claiming to be smarter than the vet, but I knew my girl better than they did.

By Thursday, it was clear that she had given us everything she had left in her. She was tired, done with the struggle to breathe.

I took her to her original vet on Friday morning. I gave him a detailed history like I have here and her medication doses. He examined her and gave me his opinion. He said she had been overdosed for way too long on lasix and her organs were shutting down. She had lost an additional lb in four days and her belly had become swollen. She was retaining fluid in her belly and nothing was working as it should. She was not ok. He said she was about to have a bunch of bad days with one really bad day for us all. The end was near.

She was calm, tired. I was crushed. I hated making the decision to put her down, but knew that I had done everything I could and she was in pain. I loved her so much that I had to give her that final gift.

It was the worst heartache I have felt in a few years. My heart felt ripped away, damaged and handed back to me to try to move forward.

She was our first little dog. My husband called her Pickle. We had gotten her January of 2007 and she was 10 years, 8 months and 1 day old. She had been with us through some rocky times and great times. She was the first dog we traveled with on a regular basis. She had spent time in Missouri, Kansas, Nebraska, Oklahoma, Colorado, Arkansas, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Kentucky, Tennessee, Florida, Alabama and probably a few I have missed. She made the move to Ohio behind the seat of my husbands truck and made it back with us last fall.

She loved fruits and veggies, often climbing onto chairs and table to get what she wanted. She was my nemesis with the garden and stole as many tomatoes as she could. She never missed a doorbell ring and her favorite time of day was when Kent came home.

She never had puppies. In fact, she only had a partial uterus that was found when we had her spayed. Every dog we had was her puppy. She loved them, but was mother hen with them. She tattled and snapped at them when they misbehaved. Before our small dogs, we had a Black Lab. Soffee was Lucys momma. She did the same thing with the tattling. I hope if dogs go to heaven that they have reunited and are waiting on us.

We had her cremated and I picked her up earlier this week. It's a tiny hand carved box and I've put her collar around it. I wanted her back with us. We don't have a place to bury her and I would rather she be buried someday with one of us. She is in the closet next to Soffee.

Lucy was like one of our children. On her last morning, I picked her up and laid her in bed with me. She snuggled close to my chest. I listened to her sometimes labored breathing and erratic heartbeat. I held her in much the same way the first night we brought her home.

It is a grieving process. Part of our family is gone. We are no longer complete. There's not a day I don't miss her. The crying fits are slowing down. We are slowly getting back into a routine, a different routine. But the emotion is still there.

I am angry with the vet. They never cared about her or me for that matter. They wanted money. And they got a lot of it from a dog who was going to die. I am angry that I had to make the choice to end her life. I am heartbroken that she is gone. I miss her bark, her big floppy ears and her precious little face.

I hope she knew how much she was loved. I hope she knows now. She is missed and will be for a long time to come. Nothing can ever take her place.

Church Search

We haven't visited anywhere new, but have made some observations. 

Two Sundays ago, we stayed home. I had been dog sitting and having some very rough nights. I didn't feel well and my husband let me sleep. I slept until 11 am that day. Of course, I only slept 5 am till 11 am, but it was great.

This past Sunday, we woke up a little late and decided to head back to First Baptist Blue Springs. 

I am glad we visited another time. I think we both were feeling like this could be our home church. There had been some fluky things that we wanted to check out again before giving up on the search and settling. So glad we did.

One of our concerns was sermon length. We have been in churches where the sermon length is either too long or the service length is too long. That wasn't the concern here. The service was about 75 minutes and was ok for us. 

What was a concern for us was the actual sermon length being too long. It seems like in a 75-90 minute service, the sermon should be no less than 1/3 to 1/2 of that. If not, it doesn't seem like a sermon, but a short devotional. We were right, the pastor only preaches for 20 minutes. During this time, there is at least two prayers and one or more videos. That doesn't leave too long for an actual sermon. 

The problem with a short sermon is that you don't really feel like you leave with much of anything. In this case, the music isn't enough to offset the difference. 

Don't get me wrong, I think this church is probably excellent for people who get deeply involved in all the ministries they have to offer. But, for someone who only attends on Sunday mornings, I'm not sure there's enough substance in the sermon. 

So, the search continues...

Content vs. God's Will

The last few weeks, I have prayed and searched for the reason why I am not content here. I should be. KC is my home. It was for 16 years and I spent 2 full years ready to come back to it.

But, it hasn't been home sweet home.

I tried. The first few months were surreal and I couldn't believe we were home. The first two months were filled with spending time with friends and family. It was great. We were home. But, it quickly dwindled to nothing. Weeks and months went by without even hearing from family and friends. Phone calls and text messages weren't returned. It felt a lot like being back in Ohio.

These past few weeks, I've had to really look at myself. Is it me? Am I just an unhappy person? Maybe if you read my blog, you'd say yes. But, in general, no. I am a happy person most of the time.

We have no idea what's going to happen with Kent's employment. We don't know where we are going to land.

That's a big thing. Because I have a little more info than I'm willing to share right now, I think I know why this transition hasn't gone well.

I don't think God wants us to be comfortable here. I don't think He has been willing to allow us to feel rooted and for good reason. I think He wants us ready to go again if that's His plan.

That's a pretty big thing to understand. I am not having an easy time because He has plans for me that I do not yet know. I've been trying to let that sink in.

Here's the other thing. He has allowed me to feel pain and disconnect here so that I would not put a place or thing or people above Him. He wants me to find contentedness in Him and His plan for my life and not in a place.

I know this! But, it's taken me quite a few months to realize that I was trying to make a place my everything. I put so much weight on this being home. I put my faith in people. I had let me skewed idea of happiness become the most important thing in my life.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think God wants us to be pained. But, I do think He allows us to push ourselves into painful situations when it'll turn us back to Him.

I am doing my best to transition my heart fully from the complaining and hurting for what this move hasn't been to being excited for where God will lead us next. That may or may not be an actual move. I know, it will at the very least be major life changes for us.

First Baptist Blue Springs

I am sort of a week behind, but not really. We visited the same church two days in a row.

Let me cover our first visit. This is the primary church for the campus we visited previously. All members were to attend the primary campus two weeks ago. As I walked in, I wanted to do two things. I wanted to see this church for itself, but I also wanted to see what their true relationship was to the other campus. Was it an integral part or was it an out of sight, out of mind sort of thing. 

My first impression of this church wasn't great. I hate that too. They have attendants and greeters everywhere. We passed at least 20 before finding a seat. Not one person said hello or welcomed us. In fact, I had to go up to the lady handing out bulletins and take one. I was really bummed. Why is this the norm in our churches today? 

Beyond our first impression, we kind of loved the church. The music was great and so was the preaching. The preacher did do one thing that annoys me with any preacher. He talked about himself/family/situation without giving details, as if anyone new would have a clue what he's talking about. There was a lot going on that day, so we also felt like he rushed and cut off his sermon a bit abruptly. That's not to say he wasn't good, he was.

While I am laying out the things that are bothersome, but not deal breakers, let me cover two areas. For the love of God, the music in a church does not need to be produced like a professional concert. The lights and fog are NOT needed. In fact, I am sensitive to flashing or moving lights. The fog triggers my sinus and allergy problems. It's actually a hinderance to worship. The other thing I find a little off-putting is the bulletin. There's really not much info on this tiny sheet. We've gotten three of them now and this church relies far too much on website traffic. I don't need a book, but I do need a little more info and not so small that I have to find my glasses to read it.

Ok, now onto the more positive stuff.

While my first impression of the church wasn't great, I did quickly get the answer to my other question. This church loves it's Valley Campus. They incorporated people from the other campus into their worship team for the day. The pastor also had everyone in attendance during that service go to the front and prayed over them. It was great. You could tell how much love and respect there is between the two campuses.

Also, the two pastors who spoke to us at the Valley Campus made a point to come welcome us at the main church. That made an impression on both of us. We were excited that someone actually spoke to us, but also remembered us from the previous week. 

Maybe the first week was a fluke because it was a holiday weekend. I'm not sure, but our second week was incredibly different. The second week, everyone spoke to us or shook our hands. One man even walked and talked us clear to our seats. It was completely different. Again, one of the Valley Campus pastors came up and spoke to us.

We hadn't originally planned to attend two weeks in a row, but it just happened to work out that way. Again, the music and preaching was superb. It was great to see some consistency in that.

This church is only about 10-15 minutes from our house. We plan to go back to the Valley Campus and check it out again. I think either one of these churches would be a good place to worship. A much shorter distance to the main campus makes this church very appealing to us. It wouldn't be as hard to attend bible study or special events. 

Church People and Tootsie Pops

How many licks does it take to get to the center of Tootsie Pop?

How many years do you have to go to church with someone before they don't treat you like a stranger?

Ya know, I don't have the answer to either one of those questions. But, I'm pretty sure the first would be easier to figure out.

Let me share a couple experiences I had this past weekend. I should also say that these aren't the only two, but probably the two closest together.

Saturday, we were at a bbq with friends. With the exception, of two families, we have gone to church with all of these people for many, many years. Some of them, 10 years minus the 2 we were in Ohio.

We had a man come up to us and start talking. This wasn't a big deal, we knew him. We had been in small group with him, spent many of these 4th of July picnics with him, been to his house for dinner and my brother in law had worked with him at one time.

The problem, he didn't know who we were. He didn't just forget our names, he didn't remember anything about us. He said he felt like he should know us, but didn't.

On Sunday, we ran into a family we went to church with for six years. My husband worked in the sound booth with the husband and I helped the wife each year during vbs in some way or another. They didn't recognize us or engage in any conversation at all.

I'm not exaggerating when I say this often happens to us.

I suppose I am humbled each time when I figure out once again my insignificance.

Why is it that church people are like this more than anyone else?

I have run into former coworkers from a job I held for a month nearly 20 years ago and people recognize me. There are people who have worked for me or with me for short times and will stop me in a crowd. The girl who went to school with me in 6-8 grade will stop me a convenience store. So, how is it that people I "do life" with for years don't recognize or acknowledge me when they sit down right in front of me?

Could it be that people in church are caught up in their own self so much that they don't see people around them?

I'm going to say it and know it won't be a popular opinion. Is it possible that church people are some of the least caring/loving people out there?

Honestly, I am kind of kicking myself. If I could go back to my first church and the few people who told me it wasn't just that church, I'd probably apologize for not believing them. They were right. It isn't just that church. It's permeated every church everywhere.

I'm also going to offer another unpopular opinion that many will disagree with, but I know to be true from experience.

Churches cultivate strong, lifelong relationships for many people. What the church does not cultivate very well are relationships between lifelong members and those who are different. By different, I mean people who come to know Christ as an adult or those who do not have children. I fit both. I know they don't foster relationships for either of those groups. I have seen it for us and for others like us.

I will say that this has taken a toll on my fragile relationship with church. It isn't that I want significance at all. But, if I share a meal with someone multiple times, I would hope they would remember something about me.

All of this makes starting over again look even more appealing. I don't mean in finding a church, but moving to another state.

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.