Almost 4

I love 4-year-olds, and my Totty is going to be one soon. When 4-year-olds speak they are the perfect blend of baby-cuteness and big-kid-sophistication.

Like this afternoon, when I was getting Karin down for her rest time, but before leaving I gave her one last tickle. And she said, "Mom, don't. I have enough tickling in my life."

Well then.

Not-So-Fresh and Natural

Seems I need to put pants on my babers when I lay her down to bed at night from now on. That's because this morning she decided to remove her diaper before her parental units were awake...and then pee on her bed.

Lesson learned.

Big Changes

Big changes at the Crim house. And before any of you baby-crazy people out there go nuts, NO, I AM NOT PREGNANT! I'll leave that job up to Prego Prestrud. Four is as far as this party barge goes, and no farther, Lord willing.

But a mighty shift in our family has occured, and those of you who know us well will understand how mighty it is... the boys are going to public school.

What a journey this has been! For three years now I have schooled sweet Jay, and last year both he and Ethan, and all the while I have become more convinced that it was what we needed to do. Homeschooling is wonderful--the time with your child, the ability to see the lightbulbs go on inside their little minds, the ample opportunities to process life and faith...the list could go on and on. I have been one of homeschooling's loudest cheerleaders, and will continue to be. Though it is not God's plan for everyone, I believe in it. And by God's grace, we will come back to it.

But when a mom goes so far into her duties of mothering, homemaking, and schooling that she begins to spiral downward into depression, anger, and hopelessness; when her thoughts begin to turn dark and she wonders if her children would be better off without her; when she realizes that most of her interaction with her children is tainted by irritation, anger, resentment, scolding, and anxiety; and when the thought of starting school in one month causes her to crawl into the fetal position...it may be time to lay the mantle of homeschooling down for a season.

Since May I have been begging God to show up in this department. Knowing that I was overwhelmed in every sense of the word, exhausted and beyond tapped out, I cried out for Him to lead, to restore me. But for 2 months now I have felt no answer--no bolt of renewed energy or determination and no release to give up yet. And as the weeks have ticked by, aware that my depression was not lifting despite the break from school, I began to become more concerned that indeed there would be no great change in the time needed. In fact, the darkness was just growing deeper.

Then came Wednesday, when God released me into a new path. The night before I had sat on my bed, crying, journaling, and begging God to deliver me from my melancholy. I now knew that something big needed to change, but asked God to show me what. The next day I ended up going over to a friend's house who, in the course of our time together, expressed to me her concern over my current state and my stubborn refusal to let go of homeschooling. She warned me not to let it become bondage and had many other good things to say. As I pondered her words and my response in my heart, I came to a point of clarity I have long been missing. The change I needed was to let my children go to school and take a time to rest. And what was before a completely unthinkable idea, suddenly was a sweet answer from the One who never forgets to answer--in His time. I knew I was free to follow a different path, and with His blessing.

Brian and I spoke the next night. It was not an easy decision for him, either, and ultimately, it was his to make. As the leader of our home, I must follow him, but I did my best to clearly explain to him my desperation and the depth of my certainty that this was the only option. He did not give his assent immediately, but over the course of the next two days and several conversations, he slowly came to agree and gave me the green light to move forward.

An enormous weight has been lifted from my chest. Along with all the many emotions I am currently feeling--sadness, excitement, uncertainty, and some fear--is the predominant feeling of relief. A new life has been given to me, and a new life is just beginning for our family--an adventure we have not yet experienced. It is hard to express my sense of relief--it is too great for words. I have hope again!

The boys took it like I thought they would: Jay cried and Ethan cried because Jay cried and then said he was excited for recess. My tender-hearted Jay expressed his sadness at not being home, and his shock at the sudden change. But by tonight at bedtime, after listening to our neighbor Lucy (who also attends Jay and Ethan's new school) about all of the fun, interesting, and delicious things that await them this year, they were both expressing their enthusiasm. Ethan wants to start tomorrow. It will be an adjustment, I know. But we will go through it together...because this Momma--as worn out as she is right now--wants nothing more than to walk this road together with her beautiful children, trusting in our gracious God to care for them when she is not by their side. I am scared about this. It is all so new for me. Will He remind them of what is right when they are tempted to choose the wrong? Will He encourage their hearts and hold them close when they are confused or scared? Of course we will do these things when they come home to us in the afternoon, but it is difficult to let them go where I will not be all the time.

So, that's it for now. I'm sure there will be more. I know our decision may be disappointing to some of you. I pray it will not be discouraging. But for those of you out there who love us and feel led, could I ask you to please give me a call sometime over the next few weeks as we settle into this new course...to remind me that God is big, that He will be with my precious boys, and that I can trust His hand? I would so appreciate the encouragement and support of my friends during this tough--and wonderful--transition.

Thanks for listening.

False Alarms

The sirens went off here on Tuesday three times. No, there were no planes bombing the metropolis of Hudson; no, there were no tornadoes, or even wall clouds. Actually, there was blue sky peaking out from the clouds, and not one drop of rain fell all day.

When I was a kid, if the siren sounded you threw your body headlong for the basement because there was a tornado on top of your house. Now when they go off I find myself tuning them out, knowing that most likely it is only a severe thunderstorm, somewhere in St. Croix county. Thus the three sirens on Tuesday: all were storms up near the northern border of our expansive county, near New Richmond.

When this really irks me is at 3am when the ear-splitting ghoulish wail wakes up parents and children alike, sending the house into fear-induced insomnia. For a thunderstorm in New Richmond!

Beyond the annoyance of the excessive alarms is my fear that someday, when it really matters (ie when a tornado really is on top of my or your house), we might not listen. As in the story about the boy who cried "wolf!", will we just assume all is well when it really isn't, because we have heard the false cry of danger too many times? Hope not. But I keep thinking that we should go back to the "old days" when the siren sounded for actual tornado warnings, not just dime-sized hail and a little wind, and definitely not for a town that's 20 miles away!

I feel like Andy Rooney.

Into Everything

Image: FreeDigitalPhotos.net

My Cait turned 18 months old today. Officially, this means she is no longer a baby. Whatever...she's my last, so therefore she will always be my baby.

Being 18 months she is also into EVERYTHING! I'd spell that with periods after every letter, but then it would be really long. Anyways, by everything I mean: the silverware drawer, the kleenex box, the computer keyboard (by the way, can anyone tell me how to get my start menu back to the bottom?), whatever is on a counter and therefore not for her to play with, leftover cups of water, pop cans, the garbage can, the drawer in the hutch that none of my other kids ever got into, the paperclip container in the drawer in the hutch that none of my other kids ever got into, the cabinet with lots of glass stuff in it, the sink, and my personal favorite...the toilet.

This little girl loves to play with water. So, if I'm not careful or if someone else in the house is not careful (and there is always someone in the house who is not careful) and the door to the bathroom is left open...we have a problem. For awhile it was enough to just keep the lid shut, but no longer; figured that one out. Now she just makes a bee line to the toilet, lifts the lid, and begins to swish away. Sometimes it's after someone flushed, sometimes not. Gross, right? Well, just wait, it gets better.

The day after we arrived at the lakehouse in Indiana I was in the upstairs bathroom getting ready. Cait was in there with me and I think another of my chitlins too, because I was distracted for a femtosecond. When I looked up I saw her next to the toilet, already mid lift-and-splash. I started moving towards her, and though I was mere feet away, I could not reach her before that little pigtailed vixen, knowing the party was over, got in one last quick little splash and then hurried to LICK HER TOILET WATER-COVERED HAND! And no, the previous user had not flushed. AAAACCKKKK! I kid you not; you couldn't make this stuff up.

So, there you have it. My eldest son ate Holsteen's dog's poop, my secondborn ate his own, and my baby is a pee-licker. How's that for mommy honesty?

5K #4

Got up this morning to run the Syracuse 5K with my sister-in-law Cheryl. My heart was just not in it, though, and as we started up the first hill, I considered dropping out. Running lately has been a mild form of torture for me...something akin to 30 minutes of labor. Every time I start making some progress, I get sick with some virus and lose a week or more of training. So, with only 3 full 3.3 mi. practice runs before the race, I wasn't exactly in great form.

Not only that, but last night I was awakened at 4am by a little girl who couldn't find her sleeping bag and a little boy who also had an issue. The latter took quite a bit of time to remedy, so by the time I was back in bed, I couldn't quite get back to sleep very well. Result: one groggy chica this morning!

After the first mile, though, things started to get easier. Cheryl was way out ahead of me, so I had to talk to other people. That helped and I slogged ahead, reminding myself of parts of Heb. 12:1-3 as I went...

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus and run with perserverance the race marked out for us...

Perserverance. That's what it was all about this morning. Just keep going. Seems like that defines my life these days as well. So many good analogies in running!

Things got easier as I went, and pretty soon I was rounding the final corner. Then I heard my kids yelling for me and jumping up and down, and I sprinted for the line. My goal was just to finish today, but I ended up shaving over a minute off my time from last year. Still not as fast as my first race when Jack-rabbit Vonda just about made me puke from our competitive little run together! But respectable, at least.

All in all, it was fun to run and a good feeling to finish another race. Cheryl finished a full minute-plus before me, with her best time yet (yay!). And I've been reminded once again of the need to just put one foot in front of the other and run with perserverance.

Anyone up for a 10K with me this Fall?

My Heart's in India

I'm in Indiana-
-but I can't stop thinking about India.
Like a friend attending a birth,
Watching and waiting as the baby slowly comes.
She's almost here;
So near, the wait is almost over...

She Wants to Be Just Like Her...

The other day Totty and I were on the way home from somewhere, just her and me. I was daydreaming about something, so I didn't catch what she was saying until a few seconds later. But this is what I heard:

"I'm stawtin' to det haiw on my legs...like my Daddy. Pwetty soon I'll have lots of haiw on my legs and den I'll be just-like-my-Daddy."

My 100th post, by the way! Woot-woo!

Reading "The Funnies"

A couple of articles in this week's Hudson Star Observer caught my eye...

(Left) At first I thought this one was a joke, but then I read on and learned that it is simply scary beyond reason. Click on the article to read the highlighted line.

And this one's for you, Wade Prestrud...I'm glad you've found a new hobby!

Going Raw

So, as I said before, we eat a lot of fruit. And we're getting back to eating smoothies in the morning in our attempt to eat a bit more healthily.

But that's not what this post is about. I couldn't resist Martha's idea for the title after all the raw-foods hub-bub from our last Latte. No--this story has nothing to do with juicing, but another sort of "raw".

First, a bit of background... Remember this past winter when Jay slipped on the mysterious patch of ice that had formed in the corner of our yard, next to the city's retaining wall? He and Karin had been playing on that ice when she began to slip, he jumped to save her, his face landed on a tree trunk, and his lips were torn apart at the corner. Five stitches and a thousand dollar ER visit. And where did that ice come from, anyway?

Jump forward to springtime. The snow has melted. The strange ice is gone. But now there is a shiny dark trail running up the hill from the spot the ice had once been. I walk up to try to figure this puzzle out, but come to no conclusions except that the slick looks disgustingly slimy.

Weeks later. A nasty smell wafts outside in the evening hours. "It must be those bags of leaves we left out all winter," I tell Brian. "No," he replies. "That smell is foul."

A few nights later. I am cleaning the garage last Wednesday evening as Brian is at STAND. All of a sudden, I hear the sound of trickling water. I decide to follow my ears and walk down the driveway toward the street, a sneaking suspicion culminating into dumbfounded revelation...the sound is coming from the place where the ice was which is where the slick is which is what is smelling so foul which IS BECAUSE THERE IS RAW SEWAGE FLOWING ONTO MY PROPERTY! "Nice," I mutter to myself as I turn to walk back to the garage.

Next morning. As I return from my run a truck pulls up from the city. I hadn't called the city yet...someone else must have smelled the odor. I inform the really nice man of the situation. He nods. Apparently, a sewer line runs down from the hill and was ruptured by tree roots. Thus the shiny, slimy, dark, smelly, line that once was frozen and led to my son's facial trauma.

Wonderful. My kids have been playing in our neighbors' pee and poo all winter.

It's all fixed now. The shiny blackness is turning into a dull grayness...Should have some lush growth along there this summer, I would imagine.

Crims Gone Fruity

Over the past couple of years we have been gradually making changes in how we eat in the Crim household, but I was amazed the other night when I realized that we had consumed 26 lbs. of fruit in ONE WEEK! Yep, you read that right... 6+ lbs. of apples, 10 lbs. of oranges, 3 lbs. of pears, 2 lbs. of grapes, and 5 lbs. of bananas!

Not bad, eh?

Image: FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Witnessing, Ethan Syle?

This morning I was getting the kids and myself ready to go on a fieldtrip at the nature center. As I finished fixing the girls' hair Karin remarked, "there! Now we look perfect!" Ethan picked up on this catch-word and quickly rebuffed her: "Karin, you are not perfect. No one is." I shot him a quick "quit trying to start something!" look and bounded up the stairs to brush my teeth.

What I heard next cracked me up. Not to be silenced, Totty began prancing around the room singing/boasting/taunting, "I am perfect. I am perfect," which drove Ethan bonkers. As she continued to sing, he continued to argue the point, until finally he launched his grand rebuke...

"Karin, if you want to go to Heaven with us, you have to say that you're not perfect, cuz if you say that you're perfect, you're going to go to Hell and that would be scary." I winced, then laughed.

So...what to work on first...? Karin's lack of humility or Ethan's lack of tact?

Longing for Home

In my earlier years I never longed for Christ's return. Actually, just the opposite. But as I grow older and experience more of life, with all it's sorrows, disappointments, and pain, and as I experience more of Christ, with all His love, fulfillment, and joy, I find myself yearning more and more deeply for my true home.

Not too long ago, I was reading one of the final chapters of Desiring God by John Piper. He ended his chapter on "The Rebirth of Creation" with a poem he wrote years ago, vividly portraying a glimpse of the new earth.

As I read this poem, I had a pretty surreal experience. It was as if I was there, stepping foot on the new earth, watching the victorious Jesus, taking my first breaths of eternity. And for a moment, this world that we live in now was only a distant memory, like a dream. All of its years of burdens, grief, and waiting, seemed so small and far away, swallowed up in "the life that is truly life" (I Tim. 6:19). I was home.

Porter's sermon this morning reminded me of that poem and my experience. He quoted 2Pet. 3:8-10 to remind us that God is not slow in His return, that His perspective on time is different than ours, that He has a plan--the salvation of more brothers and sisters--that He is bringing about and waiting to see completed, that the Day WILL COME--just as the creation of the universe and the destruction of the earth by flood came so long ago.

To me all of this was deeply comforting. Oh, when will our rest come? When will our faith be made sight? When will everything be made right and our hearts finally purified of every sin? I long for this! Come, Lord Jesus!

Today's sermon was also motivating. There are more people whom I want to spend eternity with...neighbors, family, Hudsonites, strangers... "You have today," Porter said, "but you may not have tomorrow." Lord, may my eyes not be half-closed as I wait for your return. Help me use today to reach out and point others to You!

Piper's poem is below. May the Lord use it to speak to your heart as well.

JUSTIFIED FOR EVERMORE, by John Piper

As far as any eye could see
There was no green. But every tree
Was cinder black, and all the ground
Was gray with ash. The only sound
Was arid wind, like spirits' ghosts,
Gasping for some living hosts
In which to dwell, as in the days
Of evil men, before the blaze
Of unimaginable fire
Had made the earth a flaming pyre
For God's omnipotent display
Of holy rage.

The dreadful Day
Of God had come. The moon had turned
To blood. The sun no longer burned
Above, but, blazing with desire,
Had flowed into a lake of fire.
The seas and oceans were no more,
And in their place a desert floor
Fell deep to meet the brazen skies,
And silence conquered distant cries.

The Lord stood still above the air.
His mighty arms were moist and bare.
They hung, as weary, by his side,
Until the human blood had dried
Upon the sword in his right hand.
He stared across the blackened land
That he had made, and where he died.
His lips were tight, and deep inside,
The mystery of sovereign will
Gave leave, and it began to spill
In tears upon his bloody sword
For one last time.

And then the Lord
Wiped every tear away, and turned
To see his bride. Her heart had yearned
Four thousand years for this: His face
Shone like the sun, and every trace
Of wrath was gone. And in her bliss
She heard the Master say, "Watch this:
Come forth, all goodness from the ground,
Come forth, and let the earth redound
With joy."

And as he spoke, the throne
Of God came down to earth and shone
Like golden crystal full of light,
And banished, once for all, the night.
And from the throne a stream began
To flow and laugh, and as it ran,
It made a river and a lake,
And everywhere it flowed a wake
Of grass broke on the banks and spread
Like resurrection from the dead.

And in the twinkling of an eye
The saints descended from the sky.

And as I knelt beside the brook
To drink eternal life, I took
A glance across the golden grass,
And saw my dog, old Blackie, fast
As she could come. She leaped the stream--
Almost--and what a happy gleam
Was in her eye. I knelt to drink,
And knew that I was on the brink
Of endless joy. And everywhere
I turned I saw a wonder there.
A big man running on the lawn:
That's old John Younge with both legs on.
The blind can see a bird on wing,
The dumb can lift their voice and sing.
The diabetic eats at will,
The coronary runs uphill.
The lame can walk, the deaf can hear,
The cancer-ridden bone is clear.
Arthritic joints are lithe and free,
And every pain has ceased to be.
And every sorrow deep within,
And every trace of lingering sin
Is gone. And all that's left is joy,
And endless ages to employ
The mind and heart, and understand,
And love the sovereign Lord who planned
That it should take eternity
To lavish all his grace on me.

O, God of wonder, God of might,
Grant us some elevated sight,
Of endless days. And let us see
The joy of what is yet to be.
And may your future make us free,
And guard us by the hope that we,
Through grace on lands that you restore,
Are justified for evermore.

Conscientious Honesty

Saturday being movie and pizza night at the Crims', Ethan became jealous of my sitting with Jay and Karin on the big chair, so I told him I would join him shortly. A few minutes later, I walked over and laid down on the couch next to my sweet E-man, pulled a blanket over us, and rested my arm behind him and my hand on his cute little keyster. A second later came this sweet warning: "Mom," he said, "I sometimes need to fart back there."

What a gentleman!

Eight is Great!

My boy is eight years old today. We did present time right away this morning and watched as his eyes lit up at his shiny new bike. He requested waffles for breakfast and soon after was allowed to try his new Transformers PS2 game that his grampa got him. After lunch his best buddy called and invited him over to play. Tonight we'll go to Culver's for dinner (his choice again) and then head to the Omni Theater with his grandparents. I think it's a good day for him.

Sweet Jay, my firstborn, I am so glad you're mine. You are one cool kid. Active, smart, funny, soft-hearted. You are growing up a little bit everyday, learning how to handle life's ups-and-downs, and letting God's Spirit convict and teach you. Your faith is growing stronger, even as you bring up doubts and questions from time to time. I love how you play with baby Cait, how you sweetly listen to your great-Grandma, how you hug me and tell me I'm the best mom and Dad's the best dad. I am blessed and honored to be your Mom and have these years to walk with you and teach you as you grow, and I can't wait to see what God will do in you this next year. Thanks for being my guy. I love you!

Kitty Comfort

It's been a month now since PaPa passed away, almost two since we learned of his leukemia. So these past 2 months have been pretty sad. But I have to tell you about one way that God has lavished his comfort on us...

We had wanted to get a pet for a long time, but never felt like we were at the right place to do so, due to pregnancy, finances, etc. But as Christmas approached I came up with the idea to lump together all of the kids' and my Christmas presents to each other and get a cat. I began to look for a kitty through various rescue organizations, but quickly came to the conclusion that we needed to wait until after Christmas so as not to make a hasty choice. We planned to buy all of the kitty paraphrenalia (litter box, food, water dish, etc.), wrap it all up, and tell the kids on Christmas day that we would be picking out a kitty soon.

A week before Christmas I went shopping with my dear Anushka (cat-lover extraordinaire) at PetSmart. We spent a long time gathering together all we would need for our future feline friend and were just going through the checkout line when the cashier asked if we had seen the kitties in the back. I figured it wouldn't hurt to check them out and get some pointers from Anne on what to look for, so we walked back to the room where the adoptees were.

Now, you have to understand that I was looking for a kitten, around 4 months old or so. So when the clerk pulled out of the cage the biggest cat I had ever seen, I wasn't exactly interested. "We just can't figure out why this guy's been here so long," she said, "because he is such a sweetheart!" To indulge her I took the cat in my arms and he immediately began kneading his paws into my coat. I could tell Anne was smitten right away, and she carefully started making comments about how wonderful this "Tommy" was, and about how it might be good to have a little older cat around my kids. He was very frisky, but extremely loving, and as soon as we started scratching him he rolled over onto his back to let us rub his tummy. We even did a little pull-test on his fur to see how he would react, and he actually started to purr!

Then I knew why this cat had been waiting to be adopted for so long...God had saved him for US! I asked Annie for her phone and called Brian. "Can I bring home a cat?" I asked. He said "I trust you," and Tommy came home with me.

That was over 7 weeks ago, and we are still pretty sure that we have the coolest cat in the world. We are also fairly certain that he is part dog. He runs after tinfoil balls, kicks them around with great skill, skids across the hardwood floor when he reaches one, picks it up in his mouth, drops it and starts again. He comes when you say "kitty kitty kitty", and follows us around the house. He is the ultimate "people" cat, and loves to be in whatever room we are. Besides all that he is beautiful--some kind of a mix of Siamese and Tabby, I think. He has long cream-colored fur, with orange ears, so that Jay thought he looked like a marshmallow that has just started to turn brown on the edges. "Tommy" seemed too plain for such a remarkable cat, so we finally all settled on "Caspian", which sounded more regal.

I had forgotten what magic there is in having a pet. Caspian has brought such a warmth and joy to our everyday routine. The kids are wild about him; even baby Cait comes over and bonks her little head against his to show him she loves him. We sit around and laugh at his crazy antics and love to rub his soft furriness.

Caspian has also shown an amazing trait of kitty-compassion...several times we have seen him come over to one of the girls who were crying at the time, seemingly to check them out and make sure they are ok. Another time I sat on the couch crying, and Caspian jumped up, put his furry little paws on my chest, and brought his face up to mine. And the night of my PaPa's visitation, as I sat sobbing on the floor, overwhelmed by my grief and our trip the next day on the youth ski trip, sweet Caspian got off of his comfy perch and came over to lay next to me, as if to say, "you're not alone".

Amidst all the grief of losing my PaPa, Caspian has brought hilarious joy and quiet comfort. I know that he is God's purposeful means of grace and love to us during this tough time.

Thank you, Lord!

"Caulk" Me Crazy

Have you ever gotten the spontaneous idea to start something and 60 seconds into it you wondered what the heck you were thinking?

Well, I was going to clean my tub and shower today (in preparation for Jamie and Joey staying with our kids this weekend--I mean, I can't have them seeing how we really live around here!). And the next thing I knew, all of the old caulk was pulled off of the entire tub. How'd that happen?!

Friday

We're home again after our weekend in Michigan with the high-schoolers. It was exhausting and good to be away, all at the same time. I had some goofy time with the teen girls and Jay and Ethan learned to ski. God's presence and grace were with us.

The grief was waiting here for me to return, however, and this morning I am filled with sadness and loneliness. As we got home last night I realized it was at the same time last week that I went to see PaPa for the last time, and as I laid in bed I thought of our last moments together. The dull ache of mourning.

The service on Friday was beautiful. We sat in the same room my PaPa had worshipped every week for over 50 years. My cousin read the scriptures, one of which was the same as Brian had read to PaPa the week before he died (from Rev. 21). Brian said the prayer, I sang--my final gift to PaPa, and my Mom spoke touching words about Gramma and PaPa's love for each other and his devotion to her. It was, I think, the first Catholic service I have ever seen beauty in. It seems the Lord has softened my perspective enough to allow me to see the points of commonality between us, and so as the priest prayed "accept Tom into your kingdom, O Lord, for he was trusting in Christ as his Savior" I shouted a silent "yes!" in agreement.

We left the church in the frigid cold and drove to Fort Snelling. The boys' grief at first was quickly quelled by their delight and fascination with the two motorcycle funeral escort officers. I told them their PaPa had once done the same job, and so we watched with respect as these men raced ahead of our little procession to block intersections and on-ramps, placing themselves in harm's way so we could go by in peace. Once again I was reminded of my PaPa's honor that he would do such a job, and we laughed, knowing that he must have enjoyed speeding around on his cycle.

I will always remember Fort Snelling that morning. The 21-gun salute, the sad and beautiful song of the bugle playing "Taps", the tri-folded flag given to my mom "on behalf of the President of the United States and a grateful nation". Again, the honor was palpable. The cold was bitter and the service kept short. I smiled, knowing PaPa would have ordered us back into the warmth of our cars so we wouldn't freeze our a____es off. As we all took a flower from the arrangement on top of the casket and hurried to our cars, my youngest cousin, Tony, hung by the casket, unable to walk away from the man who walked with him and councelled him for years. I hugged him and told him PaPa would want him to live his life, and live it well. Then, together, we walked away.

So now life continues, somehow emptier and richer at the same time. I still can't believe he's gone, but in a strange way I feel like he's not. His love for us was so strong, his mind so keen, his humor so alive...somehow I can sense the continuation of him, although as the days go by this sense is sadly fading. These next years without him seem so long, but I know they will be only a breath. Then, as I walk through The Gate into the presence of my Savior, I look forward to the one I hope will be there to welcome me Home...my PaPa.

Finally Home

I called Mom this morning to ask how last night at PaPa's had gone, and she told me, "not as I had expected. He passed away last night." PaPa lived his life the way he wanted and pushed it to the very end. He only had one really bad day and then he slipped away in his sleep before the sun came up this morning.

We are holding onto hope that PaPa's trust was in Christ and that he is finally at home with the Lord. Tonight we read some passages to the kids about grieving with hope and how much better it is to be with Jesus. Until then they had been having a very difficult time (especially Jay). But since reading together their grief has been lightened. Still, going through our own grief and dealing with and loving them through theirs has exhausted us. I'm thankful they are in bed now.

Please accept my deep gratitude for all of your words of comfort, love, admirations of my PaPa, and especially your prayers. I have felt connected and supported through all of this because of you all, and it has really helped me to be able to post updates as well as write about my thoughts and emotions through this process. Thank-you so much.

The service will be on Friday and then Brian and I will be heading to Michigan with the high-schoolers and our own 4. We are trusting that the Lord's strength will be with us and that He will use this time that we have together and with the teens. If you would, please pray that we will shine with the light of Jesus as we spend time with our extended family this week, many of whom are deeply hurting right now. Also that we might even have opportunities and strength to share with them about Christ.

God is so good. He gives and He takes away. How blessed I have been to be the grand-daughter of Thomas Arthur Jackson... my PaPa.

He Loves Me

I went over tonight to see PaPa and was shocked to see how much he had declined. Just yesterday he went to church and to see Gramma at the nursing home. Tonight he is in a hospital bed (brought into his bedroom by hospice), hooked up to oxygen, unable to keep even 2 bites of soup down, on morphine, with a tiny frail voice. When I got there he said, "I really went in the dumper today." He was only awake for a few minutes after I arrived, but he told me he loved me, I told him I loved him, and he told me to say hi to my boys. "Be at peace, PaPa. Rest," I said, to which he replied, "I am". It was so hard to leave.

I learned more about him tonight as my mom, step-dad, uncle, and three cousins sat around looking at old photos and talking. My PaPa once held the door open for John F. Kennedy, and hung out with one of his former Secret Servicemen. As an employee of Honeywell and the director of their transportation, he worked on projects for the Air Force and NASA and subsequently met several of the Apollo mission astronauts. And he loves the TV series "24" (Brian and my favorite show).

Why is it that we only find out how amazing someone is when they are leaving? Why didn't I pay more attention to all of his stories? Why didn't I spend more time with him as I grew older? How did I miss the fact that he is so remarkable?

Brian will be going over tomorrow morning, and beyond that, I don't know. I don't even know if he will make it that long.

But I do know he loves me.