Catching up with Timothy

I know I’ve been absolutely horrible about working on Timothy’s blog. And trust me, it’s not because he’s not funny or interesting! Considering how lax I’ve been on my own blog, I guess it’s hardly surprising I haven’t done much work on Timothy’s. But I’m here to say that’s going to change! So if I have any readers who were reading Timothy’s blog and gave up, the good news is I’m getting back to it! That’s a promise. If I make that promise publicly on my blog, I’ve got to keep it, right? ;)

So let me direct you to the latest post with a teaser photo.

Deepening the pain

A little while ago, I wrote about the pain of knowing that a friend is dying, and that it’s a slow death.

Well, this week I’m grading argumentative papers for my class, and a common topic has been physician-assisted suicide (PAS). And guess what – in these papers, a common example for justifying PAS is people who are suffering from the illness with which my friend is afflicted.

How do I deal with this? I blog about it.

Over and over again, I see this example and (sorry to be graphic) just want to throw up. I have to wonder if in a few years, my friend will be looking for PAS. If I had a debilitating illness that made me lose control of my body at some point, and if I knew I were going to die, would I be interested in PAS? Probably. How can I really say? But I’m pretty sure the thought would cross my mind, and often.

I don’t believe in PAS, or euthanasia, or whatever you want to call it. I know of people (though don’t know them personally) who have taken what others would consider “a sad death” and transformed it into something beautiful. But I haven’t been there. Is it fair of me to say that people like my friend should never consider PAS? I’ve never been really sick in my life, nor injured. How can I possibly understand what people in that situation might feel?

And it frightens me to think that this person I respect and admire might someday opt for PAS. Right now I’m sure he would say it will never be an option, but what about when things start to go downhill fast? When he can no longer walk, kiss his children good night, even speak? I could never blame him for wanting out, even though I see it as wrong.

How can I reconcile these thoughts? And how can I bear to think of my friend’s being in such misery that he just wants it all to end?

Oh, God, I ask that You would shower him with your mercy and me with your peace.

My pain runs deep

When I was maybe in 8th or 9th grade, my brother had a tape that included a song with sound clips from Star Trek V: The Final Frontier: “I can’t stand the pain…Your pain runs deep.” (The song is called “Painkiller” by Mortal.) I don’t remember the song at all (nor the movie, for that matter), but I do remember the way the sound clips were arranged, and I can replay them in my mind.

… Part of the reason I started blogging again was for this post. I’ve been mulling it over for two months, but I don’t really know how to write about something so painful to me. Even thinking about it is like sticking burning needles all over myself.

Someone I love is dying.

I’ve never really been able to say that before. I have been so blessed with loved ones who have great health. Sure, I’ve lost older family members, but either they went quickly, or I didn’t know them well enough to really and truly say I loved them. Maybe I’m heartless, but it’s true. My great-grandmother had just turned 96 when she died, and I loved her. But at that age somehow it’s different.

But this person is much younger, younger than my parents (who are not by any means old). He has little kids still.

Maybe you know him. I won’t give his name because I don’t know if he’s made it public yet. Let’s just call him Kevin.

Kevin has been a mentor and a friend, even though in recent years things have changed as I’ve moved away and started my own family. When I was younger, he challenged me to leave my comfort zone in ways I found terrifying yet exhilarating. He’s encouraged me and built me up, especially in times when I needed it most. He’s shown me what it means to have an older brother in Christ. I guess in some ways he pushed me out of the nest and taught me how to fly.

Of course Kevin isn’t perfect. He’s got his faults just like the rest of us. But his death will be a tragic blow to countless individuals literally around the world. And I carry that pain around inside me.

No, he’s not likely to die overnight. He still has a little while to live out his dreams and see his kids grow a few more inches, to be a mentor and friend to many more people. I know he has so much he wants to accomplish and see. Kevin doesn’t give up easily and will fight as long as he can.

But in the end, we all die, and Kevin is likely to go sooner than most of my loved ones. And his last few months are likely to be painful and debilitating. I wish I knew how to handle that fact, handle the grief. If only I could hang out with Kevin face-to-face and cherish the remaining moments of his life! But for now, this post will have to be my coping mechanism, until I figure out how to deal with this in a more constructive way.

Thanks for bearing my pain with me.

Staying focused on the positive

We moved today, from a town of about 10,000 to a town of about 120,000. Quite a change, let me tell you. And it was a very long day, exhausting. Yet here we are in our new apartment, all of our things and furniture sitting in the living room waiting to be dealt with tomorrow. And that’s a blessing.

Lots of things could have been different and better today, but I’ve been trying to look on the bright side instead of the dark side.

It was 109 today when we were packing up the U-Haul, and I was finishing up packing the kitchen and cleaning up the house in Coalinga. It was hot in the house; I was too busy to think about turning on the swamp cooler until mid-afternoon. It was hotter outside – poor David. But on the bright side, it wasn’t raining! I can’t even imagine how hard and miserable it would have been to move if it had been raining, since there would have been no covered place to load the truck.

We had to drive all the way to Avenal to pick up the truck. It was twenty miles out of our way, either way, and it meant more time on the road, which of course meant more gas for our little Forester (who still needs a name, by the way; I’m open to suggestions). On the bright side, we got an extra 36 hours or so for the truck, so we didn’t have to take it to the U-Haul tonight at 9 pm, after we’d finished unloading. We can go to bed, and David can return it tomorrow. Plus, now we know how to get to Avenal.

We had wanted to get everything done quickly, but it took much longer to pack the truck than either of us expected because we really did have to maximize all our space, especially the vertical space. It was grueling work and took a long time. On the bright side, we were in Coalinga long enough to have a delightful lunch out with my Auntie Mary. We’ll sure miss seeing her several times a week.

Uncle Martin wasn’t available to help us drive the truck and unload this afternoon. On the bright side, he helped us load the truck in Coalinga, return borrowed furniture, clean the house, and rescue me from spiders in the laundry room. And when we got to Visalia (click on the link to see where we are), friendly neighbors helped David carry the big furniture upstairs to our apartment while I was putting Timothy to bed and unpacking the cooler (borrowed from Uncle Martin). A neighbour who is moving out even offered to sell us some of their furniture for a bargain.

I couldn’t fit our two frozen pizzas in the cooler. On the bright side, Uncle Martin bought them off of me, and we used the money to buy dinner tonight. And thank God for sweet tea at McDonald’s.

Packing the truck and cleaning the house took all day instead of just a couple of hours. It was hot and exhausting work, and we didn’t even leave Coalinga until almost six o’clock in the evening. On the bright side, it was a much cooler drive for Timothy and me in our non-air-conditioned Forester than it would have been earlier in the day!

I couldn’t get the wireless to work on David’s computer, so we’re going to have to call our provider on Monday and figure out how to make it work (unless my dad can troubleshoot remotely tomorrow after church). On the bright side, my computer is working just fine with the wireless router, so we do have an Internet connection!

Our apartment doesn’t seem to have hot water. The two showers I’ve taken here have been lukewarm when I’ve wanted a hot shower, the kind that soaks into your shoulders and massages away the knots. On the bright side, we have running water! And my shower was far from cold, which was another blessing!

In any case, as I said, several things about today could have been better. But I’m choosing to be positive and look at the ways in which God blessed us.

Moving on

The day after the Perseids, I started a post about memories of meteor showers past, but I never finished it, and I wish I had the time to do so. It’s the kind of blog post that needs extra time and energy because it’s actually creative. I miss doing creative writing…

Anyway, we’re moving again this week, to a new town. It’s all happened so quickly that I can barely keep up. But it must be a God-thing because everything just fell into place without any hitches. And as sad as I am to be leaving a church of people I’d sort of gotten to know, a library hour for toddlers, art-time for toddlers twice a week at the Imaginarium, and my fantastic aunt and uncle, it feels right that we’re moving on. Sometimes you can just tell. Peace. That’s what it must be.

Visalia is about ten times the size of the town we’re in right now, and I’ve already found the Walmart nearest our apartment. Yeah! You know you’re moving up in the world when you go from having to drive an hour to the nearest Walmart, to its only being five minutes away! :) We’ll also have our pick of many, many churches for worship and fellowship, so that’ll be interesting and hopefully good. I’d really love to find a playgroup for Timothy, or a MOPs group I can join.

So somehow we’re going to pack up the house, get it cleaned up, and get everything truckloaded over to Visalia this week. I’m swamped with papers to grade Monday and Tuesday, so it won’t be until Thursday or Friday, but I think it will happen. We’ve already found an apartment we like (it even has a pool!) within walking distance of work, so we’re excited about what God has in store for us. It’s a new adventure, and I’m absolutely determined to be positive about it!!

Returning at long last

I can’t give all the reasons for my having taken a vacation from blogging this summer, but I think I need to return, to some extent. I’m a writer. It’s what I do. It’s not a passion or a job; it’s like breathing. I don’t think about it. It’s an instinct, and these past two+ months have been a hellish withdrawal. Although many of my reasons for taking a break are still valid, I’ve realised that for my sanity and the wellbeing of my relationships with those around me, I need to write. Whether anyone reads it or not, I have to express certain things or I will spontaneously combust!

So here’s to blogging and to all you faithful readers who’ve stuck with me these past three years. Thanks for making the effort. I hope it’s been worthwhile.

Hiatus

For various reasons, none of which I really want to talk about, I think I'm going to stop blogging for a little. I'll try to keep up Timothy's blog when I think of it, but this one is just going to hibernate for a little while, along with my Facebook account. Don't ask me why because I won't talk about it! So thanks to all you faithful readers. I hope to be back sometime in the next year...hope being the operative word. Sai wata rana.

Cute tidbits

I thought the other day, as I watched Timothy play during a break from my work, I’m going to miss so much of his development because I’m sitting at a desk in another room. I envy the moms who are active in their toddlers’ development, the ones who plan activities, art projects, trips to see museums, etc. I sometimes try to do those things, but at this point in our lives, if I don’t work, we don’t eat. Not that any mom sits and watches her little ones 24 hours a day! But maybe if I weren’t working, I’d see more things like this:

• The other day, I was cooking dinner, and Timothy came into the kitchen to play. (He really likes to be in the same room I’m in if I let him.) He climbed up onto a chair at the kitchen table, put his plastic peahen on the table facing him, and proceeded to “talk” to it. He used a high-pitched voice and jabbered away at the little peahen. He stuck his face right up into the peahen’s face (it’s about 1-1/2” high) and talked to it! I had to turn around from the stove and just watch for the duration, which was several minutes. It was priceless!
• One day last week, I was really tired and went to lie down after dinner. (This is the first time I’ve ever done that.) Timothy came to me and brought me toys and books as I lay there. He climbed up and sat with me. When he brought a book, he lay down on my chest and let me read it to him lying down. When he left the room, he came to bring me his precious Pippin-Bear. Then he gave me a kiss and went out the bedroom door. Within seconds, he was back with his Pascal-Bear. He gave me a kiss again and headed out. But before he got to the door, he turned around and came to give me another kiss! This was so reminiscent of our nighttime routine that I just had to laugh.
• Yesterday, I turned around from working at the computer to look into the living room, where Timothy was playing quietly. (Quiet is always worrisome when you have a toddler!) My little boy was sitting across the living room, facing away from me, reading a book, and he had his little hat on! I can never get him to wear the hat, but he was sitting there inside, wearing it, happy as a clam!

These are just some examples of my cutie. I hope I get lots more of these glimpses, even though I’m working. At least I get to work from home!