Spring comes

Rough day.
Headed to Rochester to see my uncle and then to the nursing home to see my aunt.
Growing up these two people meant so much to me. My uncle can spin a story and have you laughing until your face aches. He has made me laugh and cry so hard over his extreme exaggerated stories where a jump turns to a leap turns to 50 miles an hour up in the air. I love my Uncle Skip and even tho he has his faults I will always love him the way I did when I was young. He was my fun uncle and still is.
My Aunt Mary was the worker bee in the family. The oldest daughter who married and had two kids, a baby that died from crib death and a twin baby that died. Her husband returns from the service and is not the same man. She divorces and then is a single mom for many years when there were not many single moms. She re-married and after 40 years throws in the towel. (My mom was so shocked that she was not happy.. she can keep a secret very well.) She also was a great story teller. And witty and sarcastic. My Mom loved both of these people with all her heart. They were family. And you never messed with family with my Mom, she was always trying to make peace with everyone.
So it is sad for me to see them now, especially when my Mom would be the one I would be going with if she was alive.
They are old now and caught up in health and mind issues. My aunt who worked her whole life does not want anything I offer to bring, books, magazines, a Large print bible. She just sits in her chair without that sly smile and that "Oh! Janie!" when I would kid with her.
And my uncle is alone.
I cried all the way home and pulled into my driveway to see some flowers coming up. I pulled into the garage and cried. These people are my thread to my Mom and those flowers pulled it tight.
And I will love them all until the day I die.

And the beat goes on

I do not like to say I am a Christian anymore. There is too much luggage with the word. Will I judge you? Do I think I am better than you? Am I a goody-two-shoes?
I much prefer to say I am a Jesus follower. Why?
I would not tell Haiti that this happened because they made a pact with the devil and now here is God's wrath on them. I would not tell dead soldier's families that God loves dead soldiers (He loves them all) because America is so liberal about gays. I would not tell the 9nth ward in La. that this is their pay back because of the sin level in that town. And maybe these ministers believe this, I have gotten into a few arguements about God's plan on these situations but my true question is what is the good of it?
Jesus would be the one cleaning up the 9th ward, serving the people in the crumbling stadium, picking up the pieces in Haiti, laying his hands on the injured and dying in Chile. Wrapping his arms around the soldier's family and maybe wearing angel wings to block a grieving family when ugly words are thrown at them because their son was gay and died.
My God is the one who makes me want to be a better person. The one who has consoled me over and over and never said "You are bad and this is your pay back" The One who rejoices when I pick myself up. The one who loves me and calls me his.
So I am a Jesus follower and my heart is spoken for.

Is this a sign of a problem?

On Mondays with our Life Skill classes we go on community which is where we go shopping or out and about and try to teach them money and shopping skills. They just want to spend money so you spend some time saying the whoopie cushion is really not a wise way to spend your money. (This from a woman whose husband has 2 fart machines which really made the Olympics a good competition but that is another story)
So today we go on community to Big Lots. I love that place, cheap junk for cheap. And the Christmas Tree Shop is right up there in the running. Probably lead based everything! And why is lead paint so much cheaper than say, healthy paint?
So in Big Lots I see Halloween brownie mix...mmm, good until July and let's face it I have some spices older than my youngest child. I am on that brownie mix like a crazed p.m.s. broad with eight arms. For 50 cents I buy, not 2 or 3 boxes but 10 boxes. I do think you can never have enough baking goods in the house. If I have fewer than 5 bags of chocolate chips I start to hyperventilate... I love to bake when I am in the mood. I hate to cook which is why my next husband will have his own food network show. (Guy with the spikey blonde mess.. he's my next man.)
And as I get home and start unloading all these brownies I think, "Is this wrong on every level?" yes it is.

But if you ever need a brownie, you know where to come... bring the milk!

Insomnia

Not being able to sleep is just sooo much fun. Tossing & turning and trying to shut off your brain.
My husband can fall asleep before the pillow is done crunching with the weight of his head.... and then he starts snoring... ALL NIGHT!
If I drink Ny-qul like a shot I can sleep or The Blessed P.M. pills...But don't wake up because there is that rumbling next to me and my mind racing, racing. You know, all the things to do, and not wanting to be behind on things. And for some reason people come to mind. Maybe someone I lost or someone who lost me. And it's 3:00 and you want to call people and say, "Hey, remember me? what happened 10, 20 years ago, really?"
And the sad thing is I have been like this since I was very young, I can remember being 6, 7 and worrying about what happens next... and here I am still thinking about what happens next.
What happens next is I take something to sleep tonight. 3 days is my limit.

Handwriting

Looking for an address and there in the little noebook is a list of phone numbers. Aubrey, Luke, Paige & myself. A pet store. I did not write these down, my Mom did.
I am moving closer to 14 months that I have not called or talked to my Mom. I know she is gone but still I think, "Oh, I will call Mom and tell her about.." and sometimes I think this right after I have thought about her being gone. I do not have anything that smells like her any more, but I wear her old flannel shirt and still I hold it close and sniff. Can she see me? Does she know? Will she see Marissa graduate or any of my girls marry?
I look at the snow and remember how we complained about it. The long cold winters. And then she would start the Spring madness of flower bulbs and planting. She asked me to dig up her bulbs when she thought she was dying and I wasn't so sure. I told her I would need a forklift. Maybe this summer I will dig a few up. I did plant some bulbs that my Dad had dug up while re-doing his garage. He would say it but he couldn't throw them out.
I have been doing better.. eye on the prize, this is not my home, heaven is waiting.. but my patience is often not so good. And I see my Mom's writing and miss her so bad I think my heart will explode out of my chest.
Can she see me? Does she know?

Over the Hill and heading down fast

My phone rings today and some woman (it must have been her first day because she wasn't very fluent) wants to know if I might do a radio station survey and make an easy $50. Well, heck yeah! So she asked what station I usuually listen to and then how old I am. I think this is the first time someone has asked my age since December 19. I choked on "50" and she says "Thanks and goodbye"
WHAT THE HELL!!!!
I knew this would happen. It started with the gray hair years ago, really I don't have a clue of my natural color. And then the occasional chin hairs that now could be considered a crop..and it is so wonderful to feel one in the middle of the day with no tweezers or a mirror to crop dust it with. (So you spend the day feeling it and hoping no one sees it.) And then some of those crazy hair are like fishing line, white and stiff. Ugh!
And then there is the broken thermostat.. I am hardly ever cold. I can go outside in 20 degrees and feel fine. The ceiling fan in my bedroom runs at top speed all year and my husband gets up and complains it is cold while I am gasping for air. And I am wearing my clothes out by flapping them away from my sweaty skin. And how can your body only heat up from the waist up?
I do not like this aging thing. I do not believe 50 is the new 30..all lies!
Now, excuse me while I go ice pack my neck because it's getting warm in here.

what to say?

Just because you lose someone you don't know what to say. You would think that you could have this big wonderful word that would help heal such a broken heart...but I don't.
So, is it enough to tell someone you love them when they have lost someone they love?
Even Jesus wept.
And that sometimes feels better.. to know that Christ ached as we do and He knew the whole picture.
I lift my prayers up for those who ache.. including myself.