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.

Final Days

We've had a little time to breathe the past couple of days, but I think this is it. My mom just called to say that PaPa has taken a turn for the worse. He is very weak, has a terrible headache, digestive difficulties, is short of breath, and can barely walk. He now needs 24 hour care. My mom has been with several people at the end of their lives and she says she doesn't think he'll make it more than 3 days.

On top of this, my grandma needs to be moved ASAP to the Alzheimer's floor of the nursing home. She has been wandering into other people's rooms and having accidents on their furniture. The "Fourth Floor" is not a pretty place to be, being filled with residents who are all end-stage Alzheimer's sufferers. We were hoping she could stay a while longer on the normal floor.

A few bright spots: PaPa went to see Grandma yesterday and had a good visit with her--probably his last. He is happy that she is in a good place and knows that we will take care of her. Also, my brother came home from England and was able to see him over the weekend. Lastly, when the hospice nurse asked PaPa if he wanted the chaplain to come over to talk with, PaPa answered, "I kind of liked talking with Brian". How neat is that? Hopefully we'll be able to make that happen again.

So, I thought I would be able to get out tonight for some "me" time, but I think I'll be heading over to see PaPa. We would very much still appreciate your prayers: for PaPa as he heads into his final days, that he would be further drawn to the Lord and find total peace in Him; that my family will be able to juggle the needs of caring for PaPa 24/7 and moving my Grandma to a different floor; for Brian and I, as we decide whether to take our boys to say good-bye...is that a good idea?; and for us as we are leaving on Friday (with all four kids!) for a ski retreat with the high-school group in the U.P. of Michigan...this timing could get very bad.

I feel the weight of the darkness pressing down again, like I did at first. I don't want to head back into this grief, but I have no choice. Thanks be to God, whose love is deeper than any sadness. I know He will meet me there.

My Baby Girl

Just about one year ago exactly my precious Caitlyn took her first breath after a few hours of easy labor, a few minutes of hard labor, one crazy ride to the hospital, and 45 minutes of really-not-fun-pushing. I was amazed and thrilled that God had given me another girl. Our bond was instant and strong.

To say that this year has gone by quickly would be an understatement; it has been the fastest year of my life. And, as a deeply sentimental person, I shed some tears last night as I contemplated my last baby's farewell to her first year. But I promised myself in the hospital not to miss out on her life by dwelling in sadness, trying in vain to keep her from growing up. I decided then and there to celebrate her life and enjoy her for who she is everyday, and that's what I'm going to do today.

Who is Cait? She is a bright, lively, affectionate little girl who loves to snuggle with her mommy and daddy. She can often be seen touching her forehead to someone else's whom she loves-- her big sister or brothers or even our new kitty. She crawls and babbles, rolls a ball back and forth with a willing playmate, loves pears and blueberries, signs "all done" when she's finished, and hates wearing her winter coat with a passion. She is God's precious gift to me, the child whom we had debated whether to try for and for whom I prayed earnestly when Brian wasn't sure he wanted to go for #4. Pure blessing from a good and boundlessly loving God, she is and always will be, my baby.

Where He Stands

Brian spent several hours with PaPa today. The first was spent listening to a lengthy rendition of PaPa's memories and looking for a good point to ask about his faith. As they sat and ate lunch together, the topic finally did come about. Brian did a lot of listening and asked lots of questions, seeking mostly to understand and clarify how my grampa sees things, rather than sermonize and "set him straight". Through their discussion, Brian says he became "more encouraged" that PaPa has a simple faith in Christ. PaPa spoke of changes he had made in his life because he realized that he was not "honoring God" (PaPa's words) and his speech had many references to the daily place of God in his life. He did mention that he hoped he hadn't done anything too bad to not go to Heaven, to which Brian questioned him on whether anyone could be good enough. PaPa knew no one could. Brian kept restating the simple truths of the gospel throughout their conversation, and said that PaPa seemed to "get it", even if rather simply. PaPa also said he is very much at peace with his impending death and that he is ready. The only real question he asked of Brian was "what comes next?"...he said his priest never talks about what the afterlife will be like. So Brian read Revelation 21 to him and told him about Heaven and the New Earth and how we won't just be flying around with wings and harps but will probably live lives somewhat resembling our lives on Earth. Throughout the conversation Brian asked several times, "are you trusting in Christ and his death on the cross?" to which PaPa answered, "of course I am."

I am encouraged by most of this. It's not the "home run" that all of us have been hoping and praying for, with a clear-cut answer to whether PaPa is trusting solely in Christ and not in his own goodness or religiosity. And yet there seems to be evidence of fruit in his life (the conviction to change his God-dishonoring ways) and he professes faith in the cross of Christ. In my staunchly Protestant theological mindset, hearing him mention his hope that he hasn't done anything too bad to lose Heaven freaks me out. Is there still the chance that he is putting his hope in his own works? It seems there is. But I wonder if there is more common ground between us Protestants and Catholics than I care to admit...could it be that sometimes we are talking about the same thing in a different language and not realizing it? Brian reminded me of how Pastor Gregg used to say that when he gets to Heaven he'll be surprised by three things: 1) the people whom he thought would be there and aren't, 2) the people whom he didn't think would be there and are, and 3) the fact that he himself made it there--only by the grace of God, of course!

Thank you all for your prayers for my sweet PaPa. I will continue to hope and pray that our coming goodbye will not be the end, but that the Lord will use every minute of PaPa's time left on earth to drive him closer to Him. My God is a God who saves. May His powerful and sovereign grace be real and effectual in my PaPa's heart for the glory of His Name!

An Opportunity

Brian called PaPa this morning and said that he was available to come over today if he wanted to talk with him. PaPa said that would be fine, so B is headed over right now (10:30am Thursday) to see him. Please pray that the Spirit would fill Brian and give him discernment into where PaPa is at with the Lord. Thanks!

PaPa Update #2

A lot has happened in these past couple of weeks. We moved Gramma into Presbyterian Homes, Arden Hills, two days after Christmas. It was a gut-wrenching day seeing my PaPa break down as he watched his wife of 65 years walk out the door, and holding my sweet Gramma as she cried and pled to go home after we told her she would be staying at the nursing home. I am glad that day is over, but I am so glad that I could be there to help with the transition for both. PaPa initially was having a very difficult time, feeling guilty that he couldn't care for Gramma anymore. We have told him over and over that he is taking care of her--just in a different way than before. Since that first day, Gramma has done very well in the nursing home. She is friendly (not even one report of combativeness, praise God!) and does not cry when we leave. We are thankful that the Lord has provided such an excellent place for her to be.

Gramma and I at Pres. Homes before we broke the news to her.

PaPa is still fighting, but it won't be long now. His platelet level is now at 7,000. Normal is at least 140,000, and anytime someone's level goes below 20,000 they are at risk for spontaneous bleeding. This could mean that he will just start to bleed and not stop until he's gone. It could happen at any time. My brother just flew home tonight from England where he's been studying abroad, so he can see PaPa and spend some time with him. We've had some good time with him recently...the boys and I went over last Friday and spent some time looking through a pictoral account of Guadalcanal (his first Pacific battle) with him. What an amazing time of hearing his stories and memories! I learned that my grandpa, standing in as a rear gunner, once had to jump out (there were no ejection seats back then!) of a plane at 5,000 feet after it was hit by a shell! I am hoping he will be able to make it to Cait's birthday party on Friday, but at this point it's day-by-day.

Please pray that we will be able to have the opportunity to talk with PaPa and learn more about his faith. Brian might be going over tomorrow for that reason, after we heard from my Mom that PaPa mentioned wanting to speak with him about faith matters. The Lord has comforted me that He does not need me or anyone else to work in my grandpa's heart, but if we've still got the chance, we're going to take it.

Thanks again for your love and concern. I am grateful that I can post this information on here and know that my fellow bloggers are praying. Thank-you, sweet family!

PaPa and me--Dec. 28

Shameless Pandering for Sympathy

Dear Lord, what are you trying to teach me?

The past week has been filled with all 6 of us having some form of the stomach flu--B and I were mild, but the kids were all puking. We called it the "two pukes" flu because pretty much they all puked twice and then were done. Cait had it Monday, Karin and Jay Thursday, Ethan Saturday. We were all doing well today except for Cait who is still blowing out her dipe several times each day. Ten o'clock tonight and Brian and I were just about to collapse on the couch from a loooong Christmas day of exhuberant/demanding/hopped up on sugar/crazy-happy/crabby kids when Karin came running to the top of the stairs yelling, "Caityin baufed!" AGAIN!! Eight days after her first round! After a bath and some new jammies she promptly pooped up her back one more time as I wrestled the retarded but clean cribsheet into submission once more. I almost started to laugh.

Seriously, Lord, what is going on? We spent last night at home, away from my family so as not to risk getting PaPa sick, and now we're having to reschedule the reschedule. I feel like we're racing against an unseen clock, and I am so tired of washing puke and poop laundry and sanitizing everything in creation.

I don't know what's going on, but I do feel like you're trying to teach me something. I know I can't do this on my own, so I need to get with you, soak in your Word and promises, and rest in your grace. Enough for today. New tomorrow morning. OK. I'm going.

PaPa Update #1

"I grew up on tales of chasing bandito's in Haiti and Nicaragua from my Father, so there was no other choice but the Marines for me. I enlisted in the United States Marine Corps at Minneapolis, Minnesota on May 1, 1941...

Boot camp was up before dark and to the Mess Hall for breakfast. Then out to the grinder for a couple of hours of close order drill and then a class on weapons that we would be using. 30 and 50 caliber machine guns, Browning Automatic Rifles, and 45 automatics. We needed to be proficient in taking these weapons apart and putting them back together blind folded. There were also courses in chemical warfare, general orders and the rank of various officers in the US Marines and their counterparts in the Navy.

I am afraid that Hollywood would have been disappointed as there was none of that sadistic crap you see in the Movies. Oh there were some dropped rifles that were slept with at night and some learned the difference between their rifle and their gun, but that was it. Only one incident that I can recall that was out of the ordinary. One night about 11 or 12 pm Corporal D-- fell us out in our underwear, winter overcoats, rifles and bare feet. He then marched us down to the beach and marched us back and forth for about an hour. The next morning the Gunny notices some of us were limping. The sea shells on the beach had cut up some of the feet pretty bad. The Gunny marched us up to the sick bay and had our feet treated. We never saw Corporal D-- again until couple of months later when we were at Camp Mathews Rifle Range. We all noted he was now a Private."

--from Papa's account of his time in the Marines during WWII

Thank-you all for your love and concern for my PaPa. It's been a tough week. A week ago today my mom took him to his doctor appointment with the oncologist. When he learned the news he said that he thought that something was going on with his body, but he was a bit shocked at how little time they said he has left. Since then he's been going through a bit of denial, wondering if the diagnosis is correct. Today he went to meet with his regular doctor who was hopefully going to be able to answer those questions and give him a clearer picture of the situation. I should hear soon how that appointment went.

A few days ago PaPa signed on with hospice care, so he'll be able to stay in his own home even until the end. But he's realized that Gramma cannot stay long with him. She is getting to the really difficult stage of Alzheimer's--incontinence and combativeness, which will just be too much for him very soon (I'm not sure how he's managed this long, actually). So, yesterday he and my mom found a place for her at Presbyterian Homes in Arden Hills. We will be moving her in the day after Christmas. I think this will be really hard.

PaPa is definitely getting more tired, my mom says. And that's how it will go. No pain, just greater and greater fatigue. We just don't know how long it will take.

The first several days were tough. I would get through the day and then cry at night (the kids still don't know what's happening, so I have to be careful). My fuse was nonexistent, so anything with the kids set me off. The past couple of days have seemed more normal as we prepare for Christmas and get past the initial shock, but every time I think about Christmas Eve I want to cry. It will be our last Christmas Eve with PaPa. How am I going to handle that? Even just thinking about it brings the tears again. I'm not ready to say goodbye.

If you would still keep us in your prayers I would so appreciate it. I got a note today from one of my former youth who reminded me that "our God is more than able...no one or no thing is beyond His grasp." For some reason, perhaps because I've prayed for so long, it is hard for me to believe that right now. I am afraid his hope is based not on Jesus Christ alone, but on his own righteousness as a "good Catholic" or a "good man". I'm afraid he won't "get it" in time. Lord, help my unbelief!

Also, my poor mom is overwhelmed with the responsibilities of doctor's appointments, cleaning out the house, finding a nursing home for Gramma, preparing to move her after Christmas and continue to visit and support her while PaPa is dying, helping PaPa grapple with his prognosis and impending death, as well as her own heath concerns. I am also concerned for my kids, especially Jay, if and when we tell them about PaPa. They love him dearly.

I will post more as time goes on, as well as more of PaPa's own stories from the War. I wish you all could know him...thanks for letting me share some of him with you.

Please Pray for My PaPa

It's just been a few hours since I posted last. But tonight as I was making dinner my mom called to tell me that my PaPa has leukemia and may only have several weeks to live. I hung up the phone and started to cry, then called Brian to ask if we could go see him tonight. PaPa still doesn't himself know the news--he'll find out tomorrow at his appointment with the doctor. So I wanted to go over and have one last "normal" time with him and Gramma--before everything changes. I wanted to see him one last time unburdened by this knowledge and free to just enjoy his great-grandkids. I hoped to bless him by our time and hugs.

I'm so glad we went. My kids laughed and played with PaPa and Gramma. They sat and played the same organ that I did as a child during so many visits; they rang most of Gramma's bell collection and looked at as many things as possible under PaPa's enlargement machine that he uses to do the NYT crossword every day. Cait crawled around on the floor and rolled a ball back and forth with him. Jay brought an army helicopter toy to show him and PaPa examined all the guns to see what caliber they were. Then the boys asked him if they could go see his trains downstairs. I followed and snapped a few pictures as he showed us his plans for his next train setup and the model buildings he's been constructing for it. Not that he has much time for it, he explained to me, pointing to the lines of hanging laundry he's been doing as he daily cares for my sweet gramma with Alzheimer's.

It was a perfect time. Jay said on the way home how much PaPa and Gramma mean to him. Karin said it was so much fun to go to their house. And I quietly thought of how glad I am that he's gotten to meet all of my babies.

I haven't lost someone this close to me--I've never known a day without my PaPa's existence. As the child of a single-parent working mom, I spent so many hours at their house, stayed overnight with them, went to the cabin in the summers with them. It was PaPa who taught me how to fish and how to play solitaire, who let me run the model trains even as a small child. I think I was the apple of his eye--his only granddaughter for 13 years. It's one of those things where you can't imagine life without someone.

Thanks for listening to me ramble. Somehow it helps me to write this down and let the tears come.

But why I started to write all this was to ask for your prayers. I don't know where my PaPa is at with the Lord, and I am NOT OK WITH THE THOUGHT OF NEVER SEEING HIM AGAIN. He is a faithful Catholic and an amazing man, but I still don't know if his faith is in Christ alone or in something else. I have written to him about this in years past, but he never replied. My mom said he was confused by my letters, that he didn't understand what I was asking.

Will you please pray with me for him...contend for this man whom I love with all my heart? I have prayed for years. Can God use these next few weeks to answer them? I confess, by faith is weak right now. Will you please pray that this goodbye which looms so near before me will not be the end? That I might have another chance to speak with him about this and that he will understand? Oh, God--help me trust you. Help PaPa trust you. Please pray for him as he hears the news tomorrow...what will that be like? Please pray for my Gramma who will now almost certainly have to go into a nursing home--alone for the first time in almost 65 years. Please pray for my mom who bears the burden of all these decisions as well as her own grief over a father whom she loves immensely.

I hate this. Porter was right--there is nothing natural about death. It sucks. I want to scream. I want my PaPa.

Crim Family Unplugged

Wow, guys, we've taken the plunge! For so long I've known we really needed to cut back on tv around here, but I've never had the guts to pull the plug. I've rationalized it endlessly, reminding myself of the good sides of a few minutes of relaxation and entertainment. Nevertheless, I've felt like we were missing out on better things--like reading good books, talking together, time in the Word, wrestling matches, games with our kids, and SLEEP. I had the nagging feeling that our lives were being slowly stolen from us by that hypnotic blue light...

On our vacation in October up to a little cabin in the woods there was a tiny tv with 2 channels. It stayed off the entire week, and it was one of the best weeks we've ever had as a family. We played endless games of cards, checkers, Uno, and chess. We set up a firing range outside and took turns pummeling coffee cans with an air rifle beebee gun. Brian took the 3 oldest on a ride in a rowboat while I putzed around in the shallows of the frigid lake wearing hip waders. We took walks and cooked s'mores by the wood burning stove. The kids went to bed not so late, and Brian fell asleep in a chair while I worked a crossword puzzle. We came home after 6days completely refreshed and much closer as a family.

We decided to continue our time without the tube. Monday through Friday around here is no-tv-land, although we do still have our Monday movie night (a tradition) and we sit down together to watch "Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader" on Thursday nights. But no more cartoons in the afternoon or "Raymond" after the kids go down. I figure we've cut at least 10 hours of tv out of the house, between us and the kids.

The result? I have more energy. No kidding! I, who many days felt like I could barely make it until I could just relax on the couch and watch Oprah while the kids napped, am now not so tired in the afternoons. And when I still am, I take a nap. We are talking more, enjoying each other more, doing stuff together more. Our family feels alive, more joyful, and less bored. The kids have hardly asked for their old shows. And we enjoy the select few that we watch even more for the treat that they are.

I'm not preaching against tv here. It's not bad in itself. But what we've learned this past month is that it can steal away some of the really good stuff in life. The stuff that really matters. For us it has been a good trade.

5-year-old Punctuation

One day this week Ethan and I were sitting down and working on his ABC's. To practice writing them we have a plastic container with a bit of salt in it in which he uses his finger to form the letters and then "erases" them by shaking the tray. We had just finished reviewing several letters, both capitals and lower-case, so I told him to finish by drawing a smiley face. He did so and then quickly added a smaller smiley face. Then he looked up at me and said, "Look, Mom--a capital and lower-case smiley face!"

I love that kid!

All in a Day's Words

My mom sent this to me. I love it when clever people put the rigors of mommyhood to classical music!

Honest Totty

Oh, my sweet Totty! Tonight she came up to me with those big round eyes and said, "I like you, Momma." Of course my heart melted, as would anyone's. "I like you, too, honey," I responded with a big smile and swelling heart.

Quickly she followed with, "but not all the time. Sometimes I don't." Oh. Not so much what I wanted to hear. "Well, that's honest," I replied, wondering if she would give a reason and trying not to take it too much to heart--afterall, nobody likes everyone all the time, right?

"...When you put me in time out," she finished.

Can't really blame her, can I? And I am thankful she can speak honestly with me, even if she is just 3. Lord, give me the grace to handle her "honesty" when she's 13! Oh, and thank-you for my sweet girl!

Giddy Girlie Time Bliss

Yep. It's late. I have to teach 2 rambunctious boys tomorrow while juggling a 3-year-old and a babers and so I should be in bed. But I'm all hopped up on extrovert endorphines after spending the evening with a whole gaggle of awesome women. We hit Panera for dinner and then went to see the movie Bella together. Wow. Go see it! Not one swear word or suggestive scene...just a wonderful story about choosing life over abortion. Just a warning: there is an extremely graphic and heart-wrenching scene involving a child in a car accident...this movie is clean but not appropriate for kiddos! Sniffles were coming in stereo around me as we watched. I was surrounded by friends, some of whom I've laughed and cried with for over a decade. What could be better? Obviously...ending the night at Starbucks and laughing ourselves silly over warm cups of coffee. Ahhhhhh--extrovert nirvana.

My heart is overflowing. What a gift, these people God has placed in my life! Their humor, smiles, wisdom, gentleness, courage, and strength fill me. I am overwhelmed by the blessing of it all.

We were just reading last night at cell group from Mark 3 where Jesus is approached by someone announcing the arrival of his mother and brothers who had come to see him. To this he replied, "'Who are my mother and my brothers?'" "Then he looked at those seated in a circle around him and said, 'Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does God's will is my brother and sister and mother.'"

My heart resonates with this. What a family He has given me! Tonight my sisters and I shared soup and coffee and laughter and tears together. I am so grateful.