and counting....

8.5 hours into surgery and still going. is this where i am supposed to be thankful to God that he is alive? sorry, but right now i wish he was having a beer on a warn hawaiian beach chilling with his family, especially someone named michael patrick on st patrick's day. but instead a team of dr's have his head opened up and are cutting a tumor out of his brain.

people say things that happen teach us lessons, make us stronger, help us grow, etc.. what lesson am i supposed to get from a 40 year old air force man being cut open to remove a large mass while his parents, wife, children, siblings, etc sit nervously around the country? i don't see that this will make him or i stronger...just sleepier in my case as i stay up waiting for news.

oh, and to make matters worse, a colleague of mine lost her mom today. she was suffering and the family was ready to let her go, but did i really need those thoughts of death drudged up today? really? i know, i know, it isn't all about me...only it is. as i sit here with these thoughts it IS my life being impacted, my thoughts being invaded, and supposedly my lesson to learn. can i just have a textbook please with an example and a couple of written practice problems to make it clear? i was never this lost in school...

stay strong mike...
and love and support to gail and family...
missing you gramma on one of your favorite days...i'll never forget plastic necklaces, kettle corn, and silly parade souvenirs for the kiddos. 5 1/2 months...forever ago and yesterday all at once.

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
and rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

Perreault's Peak...or something like that.

There was a time not so long ago when I didn't even think about going to church on Sunday, where church wasn't even a part of my thought process, where I could easily go my entire day on Sunday, or any other day, without a fleeting thought about church, God, or religion. Gramma was around those days. Now it seems I can't go a day without thinking about all of the aforementioned. How does one change so quickly? I just can't explain. I don't think I believe any more than I did those days, I just look for more. I've become unsatisfied with the answers and the questions and am an eager explorer. I guess this is how science comes about and new lands are discovered...eager explorers unsatisfied with the accepted truth trudge forward through adversity, mocking, treacherous conditions, and their own uncertainties. I am an explorer, though I don't believe I will make the history books. I just may rewrite my own.

polka dots...

So, tomorrow is church day. For the last couple of weeks Zach has been asking to wear his polka dotted tie to church. First, how many boys want to wear polka dots, second - a tie? Well, Zach marches to the beat of his own drummer and I'm just a member of the band. So I have been putting him off. Part of it is because I simply forget until the clothes are already picked out and we are running to get ready in time. The other part, I have finally figured out, is that he wore this tie, this whole outfit, once - at Gramma's funeral. It has been 4 1/2 months and I'm stuck on the tie. That was the first time he wore a tie and it is ingrained in my mind. I remember the day she died, going with the family to pick out the handsome new clothes the boys would wear, how proud I thought she would be to see them dressed up, how I felt like I had to hold it together until everything was done. The pictures outside were awesome thanks to Bob, only it was a funeral, not a wedding.

Tomorrow will be polka dot tie day...less than 12 hours from now. It will be difficult, but, in the words of those who believe what I long to, God will pull me through...

Let's see how that goes.

the big questions....part 1 of what I feel like is a million

So religion is called faith. It implies that there are things you just have to accept and believe despite their lack of physical presence. I get that. Well, I get that in theory anyway. I struggle so much with that though. Think of it this way...I grew up learning the 9 planets in the solar system, wrote reports, made dioramas, etc. Then, in my 30's, the big announcement is that Pluto isn't really a planet. My papers are lies, if I still had my diorama it would have to be set off balance by removing the last little planet, the cool planet, the one named after a Disney character. How sad. Now, I saw pictures, but I never actually went to Pluto, I was just supposed to believe in Pluto.

Back to God. I am supposed to believe in God. The evidence is based in magical powers (everyone knows that magic is just illusions). And the kicker for me is that when good things happen it seems that prayers have been answered, but when bad things happen it was all part of God's plan. How convenient! Reminds me of my 4 year old. When he drinks his juice up he says I did good, I finished it up all by myself. However, when he decides to dump it over (on purpose) it was an accident. We make excuses for bad and sing praises for good.

This week marked 10 years that my brother in law's 9 year old daughter died because of a brain tumor. Was that really necessary? I never had the pleasure of meeting her, but I know she touched many lives...was someone so special really done here on Earth? Did the family not pray enough? Why is she gone? In the news today, a death row inmate dies at the age of 94...been in jail for most of the past 80 years for several murders. Why was he here so much longer than Tara?

I understand the concept of faith, but all faith requires something to stand on, some basis. I am having a hard time trying to find the perch to leap from....

Ash Wednesday

So tomorrow (today really) is Ash Wednesday. I'm not really sure what that is, but I'm going to an extra church service tomorrow evening and I will try to come home with a greater understanding. Here is what I know so far...

-It has to do with the saying ashes to ashes and dust to dust...something like we came from ashes and return to such (humbling maybe?)

-A reminder of the fact that Jesus died on the cross

-Someone puts ashes on your forehead typically...(symbolic of the ashes to ashes thing, a remembrance that Jesus died on the cross for us, and to let others know you are Christian and proud of it.)

-The beginning of Lent (something to do with giving up something for 40 days...when exactly does it end, Easter?)

That's about it. So here goes Ash Wednesday...I'll let you know what I learned.

home

home. home sweet home. home is where the heart is. or so they say...

What is home? I suppose it can be many things. The cape is my home. My house is my home. Home is the place where everybody knows your name.

My grandmother passed away on October 2nd, 2009. She was the last of my grandparents to go, so I guess, being in my 30's I should be lucky I had her that long. Sometimes I do feel that way, but sometimes I just can't get there. She was more than Gramma to me, although I can't tell you exactly what that means, I just know there isn't a word big enough to hold the place she has in my heart.

I saw her often, called even more, helped when I could. I don't have that guilt many get when they know they missed out. But I am missing out and have been for over 4 months. So I guess that is why I started to blog. Because I started a journey...a journey to her and a journey to the pumpkins.

No, she didn't have a special affinity for pumpkins, just for a certain little pumpkin field on a hill in front of a little white church. And it wasn't the pumpkins, it was the keepers and sellers of the pumpkins and all they stood for. She was a member of the church on the hill that sold the pumpkins every year. She was a member in a full sense, a proud sense, and a loving sense.

The church was her family, well her other family, equally large and loving. After her passing I went to her house a few times...just doesn't seem right without her in it...seemed more lonely knowing she wouldn't walk through the door with the groceries or come down the hall with the curlers in her hair. I went to church once though, just to sit in her pew, be with her friends, and take it in. I found comfort within that church on the hill, and so I've gone back. I hold her hymnal (I'm just borrowing) and listen for the sound of the cough drop opening, I smile at the choir and delight in the little acolytes. I am not her, but I feel her within me, like I almost am her, as I sit there. (She would never giggle with my sister in the middle of the service however!)

So this is my journey to the pumpkins, to find and understand God. I certainly need all the help I can get with this one!