A Company of Angels

Somehow I think I knew. Maybe not outright, but I thought about him more today than I have since we visited. Something simple set me off - the need for sunglasses.

Driving to church this morning, the sun was shining in my window just right. Squinting, I tried to drive without them - I don't like the way they change the color of the world. I want to see it the way it is, unchanged, unaltered, unshaded. But it didn't take long before I realized I needed help.

It reminded me of a conversation with him in February, talking about hospice, about pain. He said that when he was first admitted into the facility to help manage his pain, he was told to push the red button for medicine. Push the red button for no pain. But he'd wait. He'd wait as long as he could, letting the pain mount, before he pushed that button. Then one day it dawned on him - push the button, no pain! Something simple, something he'd already been told, but it just hadn't clicked right. A little pain, a lot of pain, it didn't matter. Push the button and the pain went away. He realized it wasn't about seeing how long you could deal with it, how long you could go before asking for help. It was about receiving help, about the quality of life you could have with no pain.

Then in church today, a song. An email forwarded from my mom updating his condition. It didn't sound good but it didn't sound immediate either. An email of love sent to him and his wife. A comment made with a group of middle schoolers. A mention of our February trip during a phone conversation. A recounting of the day's events to my roommate. A text from my mom, saying tonight or tomorrow most likely he would leave us.

I think I somehow already knew that very soon a great man would part from this world. UE, please know that Fred is thinking of you, loving you from where I am, missing you already. Go magnify the Lord. Do not be afraid. I love you.

Timshel

Have you ever had a moment where a totally normal and regular event suddenly leaves you flooded with memories and emotions?

I was emptying the dishwasher.  I knew they were clean because the air that hit my face as I opened the door was warm - it had probably been run this morning.  The cups on top had water on them.  I got in the drawer for a clean dish towel, as I was uncertain when our current one had taken up residence on the stove handle.  I pulled one from the bottom of the stack, knowing they didn't often get used.  I smelled it to make sure it didn't smell stale, like the inside of the drawer.

The majority of our dishes and kitchen supplies had come from my grandmother's house after she passed in 2009.  This particular dish towel smelt exactly like her house - a smell I never thought I would be privy to again.  There were no specific memories, just an overwhelming sense of utter sadness and despair. 

I'd managed to collect myself before Em got home, but as I recollected my day, it seemed too important a thing to leave out.  Of course, that brought everything around again, and I confessed something to her that I've never told anyone.  Something that I am more ashamed of than anything in my life.  And she accepted my confession with grace, love, and understanding. 

I am so undeserving.

The Sound of Silence

I walked out of my apartment this afternoon to go to work and stopped.  For the first time all summer, there was silence.  It was a little shocking to be honest, as this must have been the locust year.  All season there's been noise, no matter the hour, of these insects loudly proclaiming their presence.  I'm not complaining - it's the sound of summer.  But to have it stopped so suddenly, I guess you never really know what you have till its gone.

Unfortunately the silence outside has no comparable resonance in my life right now.  There are meetings at work, conference calls, two months worth of activity planning, shopping and packing and laundry, new youth groups to start and familiar ones with which to reacquaint myself.  Even though the summer might not have been all I wanted it to be, it was wonderful and I'm going to miss the weather, the lazy pace of life.

So, to commemorate Summer 2011, some cell phone photos for your viewing pleasure.

Engaged 6.27.11

The Fair's in town - June 2011

Sunset from the mountain top July 2011

Moth outside work July 2011

Patriotism

Putt putt poses August 2011

Second to last game of the season August 2011

Awesome presentation on some yummy Chinese food Sept 2011

The Rivah 2011

The last few days were spent relaxing at the Rappahannock River at my aunt and uncle's place. I got to spend lots of time reading, practice my photography (something I've wanted to get back into), and chatting with family and friends. Here are some photos to help with the recap:

The sunsets were totally worth catching.  I made it to one every night except Monday night - a storm shut down our beach cookout party, so there was no sunset that I could see.  This one and the one following were from the 1st.

This is one of my favorites and was taken on the 2nd.

Here's Aunt Patty and the next door neighbor blowing bubbles.  Super fun times were had by all.

Taken at the Marina on the 2nd I think.

Boats and sunsets - that's how you know it's the Rivah

Some of Aunt Patty's beautiful flowers.

Golf carts are the main form of transportation, and you'll often see 10 or more at various locations around the grounds during the sunsets.  During the fireworks on the 3rd, there were at least 50 crammed in to watch.

On the 3rd every year, the community across the river pool their funds and shoot off fireworks for the campground.  There are just a few shots.  The show probably lasted about 15 minutes and the fireworks were pretty good size for being bought personally.  I really like this shot because it shows the boat too.

In the lower right corner you can get just a peek of all the carts that came out for the show.

Cake pops my aunt and I made.  Super easy recipe, and you can make them in a lot of different designs.  We tried to inject them with frosting but haven't gotten that down quite yet.  Super yummy regardless.

Dad and I on the jet ski.  This was the "before" picture.  The "after" picture ended with me sans sunglasses and a wet head from where the whole thing flipped over on us.  I lost my shades and almost my shoes but thank goodness Crocs float!  Dad got picked on for the rest of the trip, with neighbors calling him "flip" and "turtle".



The trip normally takes right at 4 hours to get there, but on the way home we ran into some random traffic on the interstate.  It was one of those things where you stop and creep along, then get back up to speed with no apparent reason as to why you had to stop.  We ended up taking a route through more towns, which I enjoyed, but it delayed us just a bit.  I am super glad to be getting back into a routine, and was excited to sleep in my own bed last night (only the second time I've been there for the last 2.5 weeks). 

Now it's time to play catch up and check some things off my to-do list. 

Knight in Shining Sneakers

I've been dog sitting for the last week, staying in a strange house with a strange animal.  Things had gone as well as to be expected until Friday evening, when I experienced a fear previously unknown to me. 

Let me preface that, growing up, I did not live in a neighborhood.  Our driveway was uphill and gravel and few visitors ever arrived unexpectedly.  We did not have a doorbell, and aside from known guests, UPS men, and expected visitors, few people ever arrived on my doorstep.

Friday evening I had retired, light out, head on pillow around 11:30pm.  Something woke me just after midnight.  At first I thought it was a clock, marking the hour, but upon further consideration, I realized it to be the doorbell.  Nervous, I decided to stay in bed.  My logic was, "It only rang once, so if I don't answer perhaps whoever it is will move about their business."  Ten minutes later, it rang twice more.  Following that same logic, I remained in bed while my small furry companion began barking.  Maybe 30 seconds after the bell, I noticed headlights shining in the driveway, signalling what I hoped to be the visitor's exit.

At this point, I'm still in bed, watching the window with intent eyes, listening for signs of someone in or around the house.  The house I'm sitting at is at the beginning of a subdivision, the first house.  While it is situated in a neighborhood, it's still a bit far removed, and one would have to have the intention of arriving here, rather than accidently stumbling upon a house.  The driveway forks into two, one leading up to the front door, one going down and around to the basement.  I have never before noticed headlights shining into the bedroom window so I have no idea where this car would have been in order to achieve that illumination. 

Unable to sleep, I lay in bed, my mind racing, until almost quarter till 1.  I finally decide to get up and walk around the upper level of the house, listening and reassuring myself that all's well.  Everything checks out and I get back in bed.  Not five minutes passes and the headlights appear in my window again, followed by frantic doorbell ringing.  Terrified, I call my father, who says he'll come over and check things out.  I end the night in the master bathroom, door locked, on the phone with my mother, completely outside myself.

By the time dad arrives, the doorbell has been ringing constantly for 15 minutes or more, and I've come to the conclusion that it's malfunctioning in some way.  Dad removes it from its perch on the doorframe outside, as I sit in the floor to ensure our furry friend doesn't wander out of doors, and as he walks in with it, I notice he's wearing new white tennis shoes.  His diagnosis is that someone did push the button and it remained stuck, which caused it to ring insessently.

I will admit to little experience in dealing with true strangers.  I'll also admit to an extreme dislike of confrontation.  While I was braver than I thought I could be (just getting out of bed was a huge step), I still wish to be more bold and willing to protect what's mine instead of lying fearfully by.  Last night my brother and his friend did me a huge favor and stayed the night with me, bringing video games and laughter as protection.  Now it's my turn to learn how to be able to protect myself.

Snapshot: A Family

It's late and I instinctively hunch my shoulders as I make my way to the car in the rain.  The safety of the dry garage is maybe 5 feet from my car, but my feeble attempt to ward off the rain occurs without me registering it.  Although its dark and I can't see, I know exactly where I am, and I have no trouble envisioning the wide front yard and gray concrete driveway of my parents house.  I fumble with my keys, trying to unlock the car door in the angled stream of illumination from the flood lights.  Finally, the key slides into the keyhole and the lock makes that satisfying click, giving me access to a warm, dry space once again.

I slide the car into reverse and as I look back from the far corner of the long driveway, I see them.  My family.  Dad is in plaid shorts, wearing the green baseball hat that always covers his head while working outdoors.  He's leaning heavily against the frame of the garage door, the left leg bent behind the right, and although he looks relaxed I know he's as sturdy and enduring as the house he's built.  My brother stands behind my dad, his lean body hidden by his position and a large t-shirt bearing the name of a long dispersed high school rock band.  His peeking from behind dad with a comical expression on his face that took up permanent residence sometime long ago when he was a kid.  Mom is barefoot, wearing long shorts and a brightly colored t-shirt, standing slightly removed from the boys.  She's look every bit like the independent and strong woman I know her to be.

I switch the car into drive, my eyes never leaving the sight before me.  I inch forward and watch as three figures, silhouetted in the light, raise their hands and wave me on enthusiastically.  I recognize this as one of those moments in life I'd like a snapshot of, something to pull out when life causes me to forget my blessings.

As I drive away, I can't help but thank God for the supportive, loving, fun family He's blessed me with.  My heart swells with love and I continue down the road.