Another Gift from Jane

Okay, just chalk me up as a nut case. Blame it on recent anesthesia, but this story is absolutely true, and I can’t bear not to share it.

After I wrote about Jane’s ornaments last night, and we put the last of the ornaments and finally my favorite baby's breath on the tree, I thought I was done. I had already decided to just do as much decorating as my energy allowed this year and not to worry about putting every single thing we own out on display...there's just too much. My practical side told me that I’d only have to put away all the stuff again in a couple of weeks, so it wasn’t worth it.

This morning, I got a bonus spurt of energy and began to unload another tub that I thought just had some Christmas pillows (easy enough to toss around and be done with it), but underneath the pillows, wrapped in crumpled tissue was a layer of ornaments in flimsy cardboard dividers. As I unloaded them and tried to find a spot on the already loaded tree for a few more favorites, I found another of Jane’s ornaments.

This one was painted in 1972, carefully signed and dated on the back. It’s a little red headed angel boy. I started to put it on the tree, then…I just couldn’t. I think, cross my fingers, that I managed to scan it so I can include it on my blog. (That picture is the actual ornament, not clip art!) Then I hung it from the cabinet knob above my desk.

I’m going to share it with you and ask each of you to stop and say a prayer for Geoffrey, another red headed angel, his parents and grandparents and all the others who loved him. I did and I will.

Blessings,
Janie

Really Good News

Only a few minutes after my discussion with Walker about the Company of Saints that Geoffrey would be joining, I received a note from a young relative.

"I believe Geoffrey is in wonderful company though. Not only in the presence of God but oh, Little Ed, Nana, Papa...the list just goes on. A brave little boy that has obviously left his mark on this world. Please know that I am thinking of you with all my being, God has his reasons...I wonder what they are sometimes and why but who am I to ask?"

"Tell Little Walker I am sure the Mansions in heaven are loaded with everything...Nintendo, all you can drink Coke, sunshine and most importantly no suffering."

I couldn't say it better myself. It is a priviledge to receive such words of comfort and wisdom so wisely stated.

I am thankful today that our faith keeps us strong from generation to generation. I hope that our family will always hold and support each other, celebrating the good times and bad, because they are all part of the world God has given us.

Blessings,
Janie

Mansions in Heaven

Our little cousin, Geoffrey, died this morning in his parents’ arms. In this age of medical miracles, it is difficult to believe, totally surreal to believe, that one didn’t save this little boy who was so dearly loved.

When little Walker saw how sad I was as I told him the news, he told me to remember that I had also been sad when Nana and Papa died and I would make it through this too. A few minutes later, he reminded me of all those he knows who have gone before, and commented with utter conviction that they would take care of Geoffrey. This led to a discussion of who knows who in heaven and what kind of mansions we could expect. Walker’s faith bolstered mine today.

Blessings,
Janie

You Don't Call, You Don't Write...

Yesterday I got a call from a good friend who is one of my faithful readers :)! Ann was concerned that something was wrong because I hadn't posted anything lately. It thrilled me to know that someone missed my casual observations, but I’m still not feeling much like writing.

It's unusual for me to just take off for a while and not let anyone in on what’s going on. It’s even more unusual for me not to have something that I just can’t wait to share and have a burning need to get it down on paper…make it real.

The past week has been different. I had a lot of catching up to do from the two plus weeks I lost with that nasty cold, so I kind of took care of business first. Then I had family in and out of the house for several days. It was rainy for a couple of days, and Big Walker was stuck in the house, making it difficult for me to find the space both physically and mentally to write. It was more than that, though. It was like my soul wasn’t really processing any coherent thoughts worth sharing.

The news on Geoffery is not good today. For those of you who would be interested, you can go to the Caring Bridge website to read the posts. Hit Control plus the link to do so. http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/geoffreyglaub Please keep him, and all those who love him, in your prayers.

I hope I'll remember to just shut up when I don't know what to say. I wish everyone else would do the same...especially the political pundits who are beginning to get on my nerves as much as they do my husband's.

Blessings, Janie

Be Not Afraid

I just read an article based on monkey research that indicates that we really come into the world with a predisposition for more or less of a fearful, anxious nature. I knew that. My most vivid memories are of being afraid. Afraid of the open, circular stair I needed to go down to the dance recital dressing room and my mother changing my clothes in the hall to quiet me. Afraid of the kids in the neighborhood, particularly the Collins boys who chopped the curlers out of my hair when I was about five or six. Afraid of the ocean. Afraid of storms. Afraid I might have a child with a birth defect. Afraid of driving in unfamiliar places and of traffic. Afraid of losing loved ones. Afraid of cancer. Afraid of what others might think of what I wore or how my house looked, or what I said. Just generally afraid of things most people don’t even think about.

Those who know only my public person would probably find that statement absurd, because I function more or less as a confident extrovert. I don’t really mind things like speaking to large crowds once I get there. It’s the getting there that’s hard for me. I agonize and over prepare. I can’t sleep the night before, or at least I couldn’t before Ambien came along.

What I’ve found out in the process of getting there is interesting, though. It’s always less terrible than I imagined. Something kicks in and gets me past my fear. Some of the things I’ve anticipated with such dread have turned out to be total non-events. Others, like losing my mother, have been a whole lot harder than I imagined, but finally bearable, for the most part.

When I was pregnant with my first child, the possibility of having something be wrong with the baby came up in conversation with the large group of expectant moms I lived nearby. We all said that it would be intolerable, but then put the thoughts out of our heads. All of us had healthy babies, who are now in their forties. By the time Walker came along, I was busy with two other children, and didn’t have time to “borrow trouble”, so his birth defect came out of left field. For the first couple of days after he was born, I was absolutely certain I couldn’t deal with it. (Read some of my earlier posts for the details.) By the time I took him home, I was absolutely certain, at least on the surface, that I could.

I can attribute some of this confidence to a visit from a close friend’s sister while I was still in the hospital. Milton told me of her life with her teenaged daughter with Down syndrome, and made it seem like a piece of cake. I wouldn’t describe our life with Walker exactly that way. I won’t pretend that it wasn’t trying and demanding for a lot of years, but overall, it has been so much better than I ever could have imagined.

When Robert was sick, awaiting a liver transplant, on life support, the thought of life without my only grandchild was unbearable. My daughter gave me a little plaque that someone had given her. It said, “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9. She thought I needed those words more than she did, and she was right. She meant for me to be just as brave as she was. I wasn’t, but I made it through because she knew my fears.

I hope I will remember today that things rarely turn out to be as difficult as my imagination would lead me to believe. I hope the courage to make the first step toward the unknown won’t be too difficult to muster up.

Blessings,
Janie

Summer Bounty

Sometimes I forget to be thankful for all that I have and just notice what’s missing. When it irritates my husband and he complains about my ungratefulness, my answer is that you don’t make a list of what you have in the fridge, just what’s all gone or needs replacing. I don’t know that that makes him feel any better about my seemingly constant assessments and lists of needs, most of which involve some labor on his part, but that’s just the way I tend to see the situation.

Today, I’m going to try to just look at what’s in the fridge not what’s missing.

We have enough chocolate milk to keep Walker and the grandkids happy and plenty of tomatoes from the small garden in the back yard because the critters have been eating my plants instead of tomatoes this year. We have lots of corn in the freezer, and the mess of preparing it is all over for the season; ditto butterpeas. Note to self…we are out of lettuce, so no BLT’s today. We have assorted leftovers instead!

I have a date with a friend for dinner tonight, so the boys are on their own with those leftovers. Thank goodness, they never complain.

We got some better news on Geoffery today. He began the regimen of oral chemo and seems to be tolerating it well so far. He is described as just seeming better and more like himself. We can all thank God for the medical advances that makes this treatment possible. I just love it when morning brings good news.

Little John and I played a few computer games this morning, making him less unhappy about being babysat as a result. I’m glad I’m savvy enough not to let a five year old beat me too badly at Luigi and Cube Crasher.

We will probably get a little rain in the next twenty four hours, and my plants will be happier.

Somehow, that miserable cold has cleared up at long last, and it took my achy knees with it.

I hope I remember to appreciate what I have and focus less on what’s missing today.

Blessings,
Janie

Ties That Bind

Unless you are part of a close big family, it’s hard to imagine how the illness of a cousin could be quite so significant. Yesterday Molly and her family stopped in Birmingham on their way to Florida and visited with Geoffery and his family. This was different from the huge family reunion visits every couple of years. This was one little boy and his family reaching out to another to help.

Imagine how pleased I was to read the comment on Geoffrey’s Caring Bridge Journal today and share in Nancy’s pleasure at Robert and Geoffrey getting to know each other in a whole new way.

Sometimes when I’m feeling especially mystical I think about all the seemingly random connections that have bound us together with others. Sometimes it’s an old classmate of one of the girls that has a child born with a birth defect or perhaps a grandmother that knew me back in the day that has just received the news that her grandchild has Down Syndrome. Our connection with Steffen and the mentally ill would have never happened had Walker not met Steffen on the bus in Collierville.

The summer that Steffen ended up in the county jail might have ended differently if he had called someone else seeking help. We had the time and expertise and resources to rescue him from a system that had failed him. The great idea of civil rights and freedom for the mentally ill sounds good in theory, but failure to fund the idea and provide them with the services they needed to live outside of institutions just wasn’t working.

Jail is no place for a nineteen year old boy whose only crime seemed to be not getting along with his mother. I managed to get him a spot in a severely overstressed system, and he got good training in independent living skills and a case manager.

Geoffery having a cousin who exemplifies surviving and thriving with “liver problems” is probably important to him and his family. Geoffery has hope that after his problems are cured he can be a regular kid again, perhaps an even stronger kid than before.

I hope Geoffery is less afraid after his visit from Robert. I hope we are always part of a large web of family and friends tied together by love and caring.

Blessings,
Janie

No Fair!

I don’t think anyone makes it past nursery school without somehow learning that phrase. I've heard it at least three times today from my grandchildren. We use it for all kinds of injustices, big and small. Somehow it crosses all cultures and religions, and becomes one of the great mysteries...or at least it does to me.

How can a house of decent people be blown away by a tornado that left the clothes hanging on the line a few feet away at the home of their neighbors who are definitely not model citizens? How can those who give their life to benefit others find out that their own lives will be cut short? How can someone who pillages the hard earnings of innocent victims lead a long and comfortable life? How can terrible parents end up with a house full of children, while the ones who would have much more love to give end up childless?

My struggle with these questions came to a great crechendo when Walker was born. In the support group for Early Intervention “Why me?” was a subject of much discussion. There was a girl who belonged to a religious group that forbade women to cut their hair. Some of her older relatives surmised that she was born with a “dee-formed” child because she wore her hair short. The rest of us questioned our diets, our ages, our vitamins, but none of us seemed to have much in common in our history. I wondered if God thought I was being greedy for wanting a third child when I already had two beautiful little girls.

Somehow, most of the Bible verses I seemed to remember back then had to do with doing right and being rewarded, or being so evil that God sent some flood or pestilence to punish. Most of us in the group could think of some transgressions in our past, but none of us had ever done much of anything even remotely approaching criminal. Well, perhaps my taking my mother’s car on a joy ride at fourteen was criminal, but I got it back home in one piece with my little brother safely in the front seat beside me.

In the Fall of 1975, though, my whole concept of God’s being fair was blown to smithereens.

The news today that our beautiful little cousin, Geoffery, and his family will be forced to fight mightily to keep what they so deserve only adds to the mystery. I can’t imagine more loving, caring parents than Geoffery’s. There may be more loving aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents than his, but I can’t imagine that either. If ever any family did things right, this one did.

I hope I’ll someday come to a peace with what I can’t understand. Today just isn’t that day.

Blessings,
Janie