5/100 #100happydays

I'm happy we came here those many years ago.

Designing and building our house
In a quiet,  friendly neighborhood
With an awesome view.

I'm very happy we chose this place to raise our family.

Tired

Fatique beyond belief.  Pain. Overwhelmed.

Some days I can forget a little bit.  Not today.  Today illness is obvious.  Every care is a burden,  every pain a worry.  It's the sort of day I accept a ride to avoid walking 10 minutes even though the sun shines warmly. Visiting may be impossible if it means going out.  There is no song or ambition and emotions surface easily. Fear invades.

Cast your cares on Him,  I know
His caring way He wants to show
Kindness, goodness, love to me
lift the burden: bend the knee

3/100

Today I am happy that my geraniums made it through the winter. What are you happy about?

All okay?

It will be all right? Since when? Being sick isn't all right.  Suffering isn't. Dieing isn't.  What is right here?

I wish I knew.

I used to think I understood some things,  mostly through trial and error. I've had a lot of that. Some of what I know comes from having children.  They showed up my inadequacies really well and propelled me towards love and knowledge. Much was learned from sharing life married to a man as unlike me as black is from white. God used my family to help me understand life and love,  and I'm  grateful. This lesson, though,  isn't learnt yet.

I'm reminded of truth daily but it doesnt really lift the burden to know my life is in His sovereign hands (though it is a comfort). Nor do I feel better knowing that somehow some good will come out of this,  even though I've seen good come out of bad many times.  The knowledge that everyone has some sort of burden doesn't help.  Mine seems. ?... worse. ? Selfish sort aren't I?

The real question,  I suppose,  is how do I adjust the load to make it all right?

I've decided.  I will learn to be content in whatever state I'm in. My study is years old (it's a hard lesson or I'm bad at it. I don't know) and I'm thinking it's close to exam time. I've always passed before. I will again.  

So. It'll be all right.

Join with me as I learn?

100 happy days

The challenge is to take a daily photograph of something that makes me happy. I'll do this for 100 days,  taking me to early August. I'm posting yesterday's and today's photos.

Moving on

Moving on is hard. I am overwhelmed with emotion and the questions swirling in my brain don't quit.  Am I doing the right thing? What about this? Is it selfish?  I go back to what I know: I'm terminally ill,  I must endure the suffering of this disease,  and I wish to be home to do it.

Then I wonder why this place is not home. It used to be. Designing and building this house is one of my greatest joys, not only because of the priviledge but because it spoke love to me.  My husband gave up his favorite things and places to give me a place to grow and nurture my babies. Nothing in our 30+ years has ever been so wonderful. He knew I needed this and the life we built here was good. The trouble is he never really loved it.

It took a while but when I figured that out I gave it up.  Coming back for a few years should have worked but no, it doesn't.  He's not here and neither is my heart. If I wasn't sick maybe I could live without him well enough.  I enjoyed my work,  my friends and my family, but it just doesn't feel right without him.  I want to go home to where he is. There is rest.

I still don't have answers and really,  I don't want them any more.  I am going home. I'm a little afraid but I will be as okay as I can be. I want to be healthy (and maybe I will be) but in the meantime I will look at growing things,  walk a mountain trail while I still can,  listen to birds and babies, and ignore what I dislike. I will do what I do with my husband and I think thats what makes me feel at home.

This has been a strange lifestyle,  going back and forth between prairie and island life. In good days it's an adventure.  Bad days are like today,  not quite knowing which way to go.  I'm trusting that being home will bring peace and joy the rest of the way.

Un birthday

Anyone who has a January birthday is likely aware of the celebration problem. You know the Christmas hangover.  Parties are just too hard. After having a baby born in January I was determined to keep her birthdays alive and happy. Her party would often be near Valentines Day since it was always easy to gather friends by then. My birthday, however, was still hard to celebrate.  In my youth we were often snowed in, flu-ed in or broke-in.  No one was into a party. My solution, and I wish I'd thought of it sooner,  was to move my birthday to April.  My un-birthday was today.  I slept in,  sewed,  visited, had special food  and watched a movie. It was a fun and special day.

In the movie it was said to keep memories with lots of pictures. I'm not very good at that any more. Since I've been sick I don't feel like carrying stuff with me and I'm often too distracted to remember. It's a 'thing'for me. Weird, but it's as if I ruin the moment by photographing it. Even when my friend was dieing I could not take pictures. Thankfully one of my boys insisted so I have one good photo memory of the two of us.  She is smiling and cheerful,  as always,  and I was glad to be there with her. Even though she had every reason to be afraid, angry and depressed she always laughed and shared, and cared about others. She always looked for the bright side of things and never complained. Even her last moments were spent talking and laughing with her sisters.

My life was changed during that year of her dieing. She displayed such courage in the face of death that I was forced to examine myself to see how I could come even close to the hope and cheer that she lived.  Every time I'm tempted to feel sorry for myself I am reminded of her Hello and her cheerful laughter, and I look for it again. It's hard to find sometimes.  Things like this un birthday do it.  Eating candy instead of supper,  nerf wars, listening to old music,  making funny faces at the kids,  and playing silly games do it for me too.  I'm the sort of serious that finds it hard though. I need lots of practice if I'm going to be any good at it.   

I think it's true. It's the pictures you don't take that you regret, and the times you don't laugh.

Sewing

In spite of the difficulties I have been sewing. A lot. There is a modern machine here that requires less fine motor skills from the operator than a traditional one. So far I've pieced a lap quilt,  a baby quilt and two table mats. I even tried my hand at free-motion quilting. That needs more control than I've got but straight line quilting with a dual-feed works. Go figure.

I'll go home with a few projects. I'm very happy. I'm especially happy that my sister encouraged me to try. Fear made me think I'd fail and in some ways I did. I failed to handle big pieces of fabric so I used pre cut strips, squares and scraps. I can't do very small pieces either so sis sewed the binding. She also cut backing and put the quilt sandwich in place. She shared her space and her skills so I could create something that I was afraid I'd never do again. I almost missed out.

Makes me wonder: what else might I have missed for lack of trying?

When I was diagnosed the doctor said to start doing the things I wanted to do, bucket list style.  The only thing left is traveling around North America and Britain. I'd like to see oranges growing and find out if they really do taste better ripe off the tree. I'd like to hear the music of North America played in each state or province, their way, in their home. I'd love a walk on warm white sand, a picnic on an Atlantic beach and a midnight sun party. I'd like to hang out in Britain and see how people do life there.

But you know, if I never do any of it I'm okay with that because mostly I've learned to make the best of my days. The quilting for instance came up when I was very sick with an infection and quite discouraged.  Meds and a tooth extraction helped but getting my mind onto something else is what really worked. Now I have something to show for my efforts along with happy memories of working with my sister.

Make the most of my days..... The sewing machine is not coming with me when I leave so I doubt I'll be doing much of that but I'll try.  Someone will help.  I'm sad when I think of how hard'everything' is - the broken coffee server tells that tale- but to refuse to try is the only true failure. The times of acute illness will become more frequent and my disabilities greater but if I give up won't I be dead in a living body?

Fear of failure isn't going to stop me.

Jazz

Listening is not as much fun as playing. This trumpet was me in my younger days.  Only my teacher supported me. It was her first year. I joined band late so she was obliged at first. After a short while she liked me and I got a lot of extra help. That trumpet was my focus my entire highschool career. My family never got involved or encouraged. It was the same with accordion classes. 5 years and no interest. This girl needs a piano, my teacher said. Get her some real lessons. Not wasting money on that, he said.  Devastation.  Then this teacher came along with the leftover band instruments and saved my life. Jazz band,  concert band, choirs,  city Orchestra. .... What a time it was. Inside my fear and frustration there was music.

How will it get out now? These hands barely move.  My swallow is off.  Who is coming along with a way?

He's Bigger

Lunch at McDonalds'play place is not typically on the schedule. Even when my children were the right age it was too chaotic. Today was an exception.  The kids played and fought as kids do, the sun was shining, and the chaos felt good. When the littlest said it was time to sleep and the others decided that girl was too mean we knew it was time to leave. Wouldn't it be great to always make decisions so easily! In the car the littlest was encouraged to stay awake with chatter from her cousin and the two oldest discussed their troubles.  Maybe it was the mean girl or maybe it was the snow mounds but one was insisting that God is bigger than that.  He's taller and stronger and better than everything.  Just was easily as it started the conversation moved on.  It was a simple conclusion.

The kids reminded me today:  When I am afraid, God is bigger.  When there is a mean girl or too much  of something God is bigger then, too. When I am sick or in pain he is still bigger. It is easy to move on when you know.

I'm not sure what that looks like in my current situation but it may be getting past pain and disability to do things I love.  Fiddling is gone because my hand is so bad but maybe I can devise a new way to play guitar instead. I doubt I can do much needlework but I can sew on the machine even though I need help. The day will come when I can't do any of it,  I know,  but in the meantime I want to turn my mind that way. Remember how easy it is to move on when you  know:  God is bigger.