I meant to say I love you more. I meant to say, call if you need anything. I meant to say, come see us whenever you can. I meant to say I love your little growing family. I meant to say how proud I am of every thing you do. I meant to say, if there's anything I can do, please let me know. I meant to say, I would never judge whatever is going on in your life. I meant to say, I hope everything is okay. I meant to say, call anytime. I mean to say, I have loved watching you grow up. I meant to say, I can't wait to see what you all become.
These are just a few things I really meant to say. But words get jumbled up inside sometimes. They often don't come out the way they should or don't come out at all. In my heart, they really are meant to be shared and stated often. Please know that I truly mean each and every one of these.
Its what family really means.
Love. You. All.
Sunday, September 13, 2015
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
A New "Normal"
Effective Thursday, August 27th, 2015 I will be "celebrating" an anniversary of sorts. Two years ago and counting I had Knee #1 replaced, out with the old in with the new! I am very glad I did so, don't get me wrong but boy, sometimes I feel like someone forgot to tell me "the rest of the story".
I learned prior to surgery that it was helpful to learn and do the exercise before removal and this aids in recovery afterwards. I faithfully did so and yes, was glad to have gone through the motions to make recovery that much better. Apparently I was a "good student" because I was able to complete my recovery on my own after the initial three week home prescribed therapy. As long as I did my exercises (twice a day) then there was no need to visit with a therapist throughout my healing. And I did. Three months later it was a repeat session, Knee #2 was out and replaced as well. Again, I self-therapied after the home therapy for three weeks and found myself out and about in a fairly quick manner.
So now its two years l later. Finally the scars are beginning to lessen, losing their "frankenstein" appearance and fading into a fainter line. And knee pain is a thing of the past, gone, removed, replaced and thats a good feeling. But there is more to just getting new knees. There is the daily reminders that these knees send or better yet its the legs that are attached to those knees. Anytime spent in a sitting position, no matter how long, is accompanied by a reminder of their artificial-ness. You go to stand up, legs say whoa, lets think about this and with a solid push forward I tell them, yes we are moving and we're going to like it. And away we go. Kinda of a dull pressure that hasn't started to feel like they're really mine. Wonder if they ever will.
I try to walk, a lot and I still think I "hear" these joints clicking, again, not sure if that will ever stop being weird. Kneeling at Mass is interesting but if Our Lord could endure the suffering he did I figure I can handle a little discomfort for a bit. Emptying out bottom cabinet, ha, not happening, kneeling to scrub the floor, whatever, weeding out in the garden, bend at the waist, stair climbing has gotten pretty good but I'm still cautious, hiking through the hills with Tim, not really happening either but I blame that on the ankles (another story). Putting on and tying shoes, trimming toenails are all another part of the challenges of new knees.
So I really feel like these surgeons that perform these awesome surgeries to really help us out need to add and extra chapter to their book on What's about to Happen?. I do not regret any of my surgeries to deal with the old knees of mine but I do wonder if I would have questioned things more if I had known "about the New Normal".
I learned prior to surgery that it was helpful to learn and do the exercise before removal and this aids in recovery afterwards. I faithfully did so and yes, was glad to have gone through the motions to make recovery that much better. Apparently I was a "good student" because I was able to complete my recovery on my own after the initial three week home prescribed therapy. As long as I did my exercises (twice a day) then there was no need to visit with a therapist throughout my healing. And I did. Three months later it was a repeat session, Knee #2 was out and replaced as well. Again, I self-therapied after the home therapy for three weeks and found myself out and about in a fairly quick manner.
So now its two years l later. Finally the scars are beginning to lessen, losing their "frankenstein" appearance and fading into a fainter line. And knee pain is a thing of the past, gone, removed, replaced and thats a good feeling. But there is more to just getting new knees. There is the daily reminders that these knees send or better yet its the legs that are attached to those knees. Anytime spent in a sitting position, no matter how long, is accompanied by a reminder of their artificial-ness. You go to stand up, legs say whoa, lets think about this and with a solid push forward I tell them, yes we are moving and we're going to like it. And away we go. Kinda of a dull pressure that hasn't started to feel like they're really mine. Wonder if they ever will.
I try to walk, a lot and I still think I "hear" these joints clicking, again, not sure if that will ever stop being weird. Kneeling at Mass is interesting but if Our Lord could endure the suffering he did I figure I can handle a little discomfort for a bit. Emptying out bottom cabinet, ha, not happening, kneeling to scrub the floor, whatever, weeding out in the garden, bend at the waist, stair climbing has gotten pretty good but I'm still cautious, hiking through the hills with Tim, not really happening either but I blame that on the ankles (another story). Putting on and tying shoes, trimming toenails are all another part of the challenges of new knees.
So I really feel like these surgeons that perform these awesome surgeries to really help us out need to add and extra chapter to their book on What's about to Happen?. I do not regret any of my surgeries to deal with the old knees of mine but I do wonder if I would have questioned things more if I had known "about the New Normal".
Monday, May 25, 2015
Happy Memorial Day!
Today, as we've done since our oldest son was 7 years old (he's 24 now!) we headed to our National Cemetery for their annual celebration. The day was perfect, mild temperature and gentle breezes made for a pleasant setting. We bring chairs and found just the right spot to watch the going ons of the program. The list and line up is long and fairly repetitious over the years. But still we go, we clap, we wave flags and I must admit I get teared up EVERY SINGLE TIME I hear the Pledge of Allegiance and the National Anthem.
The best part for me? People watching. Trying to figure out who served in what conflict or war, seeing the older ladies with no spouse along side of them, wondering how they got through those hard times. Seeing little kids, clearly having no clue what is going on, their longing to move on to something else, no matter what else. Seeing the older men, so proud of their time served, they shake hands with any and all who will stop and spend a minute asking "where did you serve"? I love seeing the guys and gals on the motorcycles roaring through the area, the men reminded me of my own uncles who served their time. And there are the younger service people, the ones who have stepped up and taken the call to serve our country. A call that all of these awesome men and women have given so much for so many.
The program ended with an impressive show of arms, followed by the playing of the taps and this year, a release of many doves over head.
A touching service to thank so many special people.
Yes, summer is off to a good start.
The best part for me? People watching. Trying to figure out who served in what conflict or war, seeing the older ladies with no spouse along side of them, wondering how they got through those hard times. Seeing little kids, clearly having no clue what is going on, their longing to move on to something else, no matter what else. Seeing the older men, so proud of their time served, they shake hands with any and all who will stop and spend a minute asking "where did you serve"? I love seeing the guys and gals on the motorcycles roaring through the area, the men reminded me of my own uncles who served their time. And there are the younger service people, the ones who have stepped up and taken the call to serve our country. A call that all of these awesome men and women have given so much for so many.
The program ended with an impressive show of arms, followed by the playing of the taps and this year, a release of many doves over head.
A touching service to thank so many special people.
Yes, summer is off to a good start.
Thursday, May 7, 2015
My Momma's Hands
A person's hands tell a long story. The hands of our little Ely, all round and chubby, often sticky and very busy shows the starting point of this precious little boy's days. He is constantly learning, reaching out, yanking, pulling, those busy little fingers ever moving til he's plum tuckered out and just as quickly pops that little thumb in tight, showing just how tired he really is.
I see the hands of my own boys, once all soft and smooth, now showing how quickly they are growing up. Those hands are man-hand size, quickly enveloping my own hand as they grab on in passing. Now slightly roughened up, not the smooth baby skin that I treasured so long ago.
My baby girl's hands tell their own story, those hands cradled that little grandson, ever gentle in their care. And those hand are quick to dig into the newest project, be it in the garden or helping the in-laws at their place. Its like they don't know how to slow down and say no, constantly on the move. But at the end of her day, there is a soft touch for her Husband and Baby.
I see my own Mother's hands too, what a story they tell. A life time of raising a family, tending to a home and husband as well, working to make sure everything is just so. Constantly reaching out, giving all she can until the time comes when children move on, out on their own with families of their own. Providing care and support to a husband that in time, needed a constant kind of care. Those hands never wavered in their actions.
My Momma's hands now tell a different story. Slowing they begin to take a life of their own, bending and turning, moving slightly in a new direction. I watch as she talks, I see those hands move to tell a story she is sharing and they too tell the story. A story that began a lifetime ago and now those hands are tired, a little bent, knuckles shaped with a knotted look. At times those hands ache, ever so slightly, enough to get her attention, cause a shake of the head and then they move again. Telling a lifetime story in themselves. Yes, I watch my Momma's hands and I see much.
I see the hands of my own boys, once all soft and smooth, now showing how quickly they are growing up. Those hands are man-hand size, quickly enveloping my own hand as they grab on in passing. Now slightly roughened up, not the smooth baby skin that I treasured so long ago.
My baby girl's hands tell their own story, those hands cradled that little grandson, ever gentle in their care. And those hand are quick to dig into the newest project, be it in the garden or helping the in-laws at their place. Its like they don't know how to slow down and say no, constantly on the move. But at the end of her day, there is a soft touch for her Husband and Baby.
I see my own Mother's hands too, what a story they tell. A life time of raising a family, tending to a home and husband as well, working to make sure everything is just so. Constantly reaching out, giving all she can until the time comes when children move on, out on their own with families of their own. Providing care and support to a husband that in time, needed a constant kind of care. Those hands never wavered in their actions.
My Momma's hands now tell a different story. Slowing they begin to take a life of their own, bending and turning, moving slightly in a new direction. I watch as she talks, I see those hands move to tell a story she is sharing and they too tell the story. A story that began a lifetime ago and now those hands are tired, a little bent, knuckles shaped with a knotted look. At times those hands ache, ever so slightly, enough to get her attention, cause a shake of the head and then they move again. Telling a lifetime story in themselves. Yes, I watch my Momma's hands and I see much.
Saturday, April 18, 2015
Lessons I am learning April 2015
The past three days I managed a quick getaway. Nothing too fancy, just a drive up I44 to St. Louis to spend some quality time with my Mom. Visiting with Mom is really the ultimate break time, I don't have to make any decisions for anybody but me. We stay up too late watching murder mysteries, playing games on our iPads and comparing funny FaceBook posting. Really quite glorious. Our mornings start whenever we want, coffee on the patio for a couple hours while the dogs run themselves silly, breakfast at 10:00 followed by making plans for what to do next. See, its really a great getaway.
There was an added highlight this visit though, plans had been made to visit with Uncle Tommy and Uncle Louie for dinner and drinks. So we girls got our shopping done early that day and prettied ourselves up for this special "date night" with the boys. Never mind that these boys are almost 90 and 86 years young, I'm calling it a date. The guys arrived and picked us up and away we went to Merz on Main in Columbia IL , apparently know for the fish they serve. And yes the fish was good, as was the German style potato salad but early on I knew why this night was special.
Its about family. There is nothing better than reconnecting over food and drinks and sharing stories from long ago.
I loved hearing about their many trips together and reminding them of things that I remembered about them from then. Its most certainly the circle of life coming round. The stories remembered were of younger days, with spouses and kids growing up, ambitions and dreams at the beginning of this family. Now its time for reflection and memories of all those times shared, the ones who have passed are never forgotten in those many stories. These people will always hold a special place in my heart, they are the foundation of what all of our families grew to become.
And therein lies the lessons I am learning, the connections of family starts way back in time and reaches so far ahead. As I live these days, watching our own family grow and thrive I know there are many hands and hearts carrying this all forward. Love you all.
There was an added highlight this visit though, plans had been made to visit with Uncle Tommy and Uncle Louie for dinner and drinks. So we girls got our shopping done early that day and prettied ourselves up for this special "date night" with the boys. Never mind that these boys are almost 90 and 86 years young, I'm calling it a date. The guys arrived and picked us up and away we went to Merz on Main in Columbia IL , apparently know for the fish they serve. And yes the fish was good, as was the German style potato salad but early on I knew why this night was special.
Its about family. There is nothing better than reconnecting over food and drinks and sharing stories from long ago.
I loved hearing about their many trips together and reminding them of things that I remembered about them from then. Its most certainly the circle of life coming round. The stories remembered were of younger days, with spouses and kids growing up, ambitions and dreams at the beginning of this family. Now its time for reflection and memories of all those times shared, the ones who have passed are never forgotten in those many stories. These people will always hold a special place in my heart, they are the foundation of what all of our families grew to become.
And therein lies the lessons I am learning, the connections of family starts way back in time and reaches so far ahead. As I live these days, watching our own family grow and thrive I know there are many hands and hearts carrying this all forward. Love you all.
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