2012 is going out in snowy style! The ground is covered in a few inches of snow and the cold of winter is forcing me to dig out some of my old shawls that I use to wear when I was a hippie. I get into my favorite chair, cover up with one of my favorite gifts of Christmas's past, a plush (fake) mink throw, and wrap a shawl around my shoulders and I'm ready for some TV or reading or posting on this blog, like I'm doing now.

 

This usually the time of year I reflect on it's passing and what the new year may bring. This has been one tough year. Not the toughest ever for my near 60 years in review but one I don't want to relive.

 

~  My back tops the list of tough. An already bad back was made worse on June 1st when I fractured my L1 and compressed further the rest of the L's so bad that I had to have major surgery to fuse the L4 - L5 October 1st.

    Now as the year closes out, my back is much better than before surgery. The constant pain has been replaced with a slight discomfort and when I bend too much, a slight ache. My prayer is that I can keep from injuring my back further so that the L3 won't need fusing to the L4 and L5 won't need fusing to S1. Those areas of my spin are also damaged.

 

~  My finances took a big hit this year. Not being able to work for a while meant a slash to my budget. Christmas would have been more of a bummer for me if my husband hadn't stepped in to help.

    Funny thing though. Gifts of money this Christmas were more than past Christmas's. My checkbook was rescued just as it reached the last $3 mark. Thank You, Lord, for answered prayer! Now I'm praying the 'fiscal cliff' is resolved so next year's budget isn't raped.

 

~  This years election nearly broke my marriage apart.

    The next four years will determine if trust was misplaced.

 

~  Death reared it's ugly head in several ways this year. Lost folks dear to me, family and friends of family. Those personal losses never healed before the next one would hit OR some sick soul would go out and shoot up a theater, and a school and .... to much sorrow both personally and nationally.

    Death will never go away. We are all born to die. I'm not talking about spiritual things ... that's beyond my understanding. I'm talking about the one constant of life ... death. So, it would be nice to have 2013 be the 'lucky' year of minimal loss.

 

Yes, it has been a rough year. I've just listed a few because to post a complete list would be a book ... and a drag. I'm looking ahead now.

 

We didn't have a cataclysmic event on 12-21-12. Everything seems as it was, with no doom and gloom.

 

No one knows the plans or thoughts of God, so it is my prayer that He is waiting for the 'Big' day so everyone has a chance to change ... or whatever.

 

I'm just glad that there is still time ... Still hope in the year to come.

I'm glad the year is nearly over and pray next year will be blessed.

 

 

 

 

 

Happy New Year to all! May you be blessed! May your dreams come true!  May 2013 be your best year yet!

 



Gertrude and I

Pictured:  Dewey Dillon, Sandy (author), and my dear Gertrude McVay. This was taken at her birthday party that her niece, Jill, put together for her in 2008.












SHE HAD SOMETHING 'BETTER' TO DO






I took my place at what I believed to be the head of her casket and gave her my last gift ... my gift of a song, sung to the tune of Edelweiss:

 

May the Lord Mighty God,

Bless and keep you forever.

Grant you peace,

Perfect peace,

Courage in every endeavor.

Lift up your eyes,

And see His Face,

And His Grace forever.

May the Lord Mighty God,

Bless and keep you forever.

A song that I began with a broken voice, nervous, because folks were filing out from under the blue protective tent, heading to their cars and I feared they would think me daft. But by the end of the song, my voice was strong and I hoped it did her justice. Good-bye dear friend, my Gertrude Madre. (Madre - spanish for mother.)

Today, Gertrude McVay was laid to rest. She made it to 93. She was always trying to make it another year. I figured she'd try to out do her mother. Mary made it to 103. But on the night of her 93rd birthday she was admitted to the hospital and left us to do 'better' things, ten days later.

If she could have observed her own funeral, I think she would have been very moved. Several people got up and shared during the celebration of memories about her. I even went up, in spite of my fears of falling from my vertigo that has been haunting me for near a month now. I don't remember what I said! Wish I would have wrote it down! When I sat down and others shared ... I remembered even more memories that I could have added.

The good thing about a blog ... I can share those thoughts and memories here. I may be the only one writing/reading this, but hey, that's not really important to me. My writing has always been my vent, my canvas, my best friend most of the time. No one reading it, can't take that away.

So, this is what I would like to have said (and some of it I may have) during this special celebration. It is what I would have told her if she was still here and I'm sorry I missed my opportunity before. It's seems death is like that, it captures and silences all the should have and would haves.

I met Gertrude like many Ogallala hometowners, when I

enlisted her services to care for my daughter and step-son

when they were 7 years old. She was a popular choice in

Ogallala for her childcare services. But it wasn't until she

called me to come clean for her, over 10 years ago,

when I was just starting out in my newly formed

cleaning business, that I came to

 know her.

What began with me as her cleaning lady, soon developed

into a friendship and as the years went by ... more than

friendship. I grew to love this woman and adopted her as

my Mother. My own Mother and I were struggling at that

time. I didn't know then what I know now about

Alzheimer's. Gertrude and I had some long heart to

heart talks. At least I HAVE told her this one thing

many times ... she healed my heart and relationship

with my Mom. For that, I will be forever grateful.

During those years, I invited Gertude out several times

for special holiday meals with our family and on one Easter,

I also invited Dewey Dillon. After dinner we all sat down

and our family introduced Gertrude and Dewey to

the game of Dominoes. Oh what fun that was!

What I didn't know, until the next clean, was that

my daughter, Shelby, would drop off a game of Dominoes

to Gertrude. From that time on, it was the game of choice.

In fact, the couple of times I would sit and play with them,

 after a cleaning, I'd swear there were new rules to the

game. Every time after that surprise gift from Shelby,

Gertrude would praise her to me and profusely thank me

for introducing them to the game. I think she enjoyed and continued to play the game when she went to the Grant home.

This woman loved her clothes. I could so identify with that!

 She also loved her jewelry. Again, I could identify with that.

She collected angels. I collected lots of other stuff that

could match her thousands of angels throughout her home.

She always looked beautiful. Her hair fixed, her cute outfits

with her favorite jewelry which was often angel pins, she

was a classy lady. I looked up to her and enjoyed that we

had so much in common. Both of us LOVED to go thrift shop shopping! No Macy's or Dillard's for us!!

There is so much more I could tell you about this

amazing woman but I guess this is only important to me

and I'm not good enough with my words to paint a picture

 that you would love as much as I do/did her. She

touched many hearts in our small towns of Ogallala

and Grant. She will be missed by many.

So, dear lady, I don't know it you can read this from

where you are, but I want to tell you I love you to the moon

and back! Thank you for that call to clean your home!

Thank you for wanting to be my friend. And thank you

for loving me. I bet you have your own angel wings now!

 If you do, I pray that God would let you come whisper

 in my ear and remind me of my healed heart or just

to give me one of your famous hugs and tell me those

 'I love you's',  you so freely handed out! I hope it's yer

mug I see, Gertrude Madre, coming to greet me

when it is my turn to go find something 'better' to do.

DISMANTLING CHRISTMAS

Why is this year any different from Christmas's past?
Is my heart any heavier?
Decorations are usually left til New Year's Day,
But not this year.
This year I'm ready to put them away.

So all the boxes to fill,
Are brought up from the basement,
And down go the stockings off the chimney,
And down go memories collected over the years,
Of what Christmas means to me.

The various nativity scenes,
Remind me of the reason we celebrate.
Santa of my childhood years,
Has been replaced with Baby Jesus,
And in some way softened all my fears.

The many trees placed about the room,
Fill me with smiles.
Lots of decorated trees make the season fun.
Some gifted, made and bought,
And I remember the history of each one.

As I carefully sort and paper wrap,
And put everything that says Christmas away,
A lump settles in my throat,
And tears threaten to fall.
I really feel like such an old goat!

Every year this gets harder.
Not because the world's Christmas greed has grown,
But more the changes that each Christmas holds,
When young hope sees such a bright light.
But that light seems to dim when we get old.

Most of my decorations are children geared.
As I put them to rest for another year,
I wonder if they'll be brought out anymore.
There are no children regularly in this home now,
No little hearts to Christmas adore.

Seems silly to adorn with teddy bears,
And Sesame Street ornaments,
When no little one's are here to enjoy.
Maybe I'll change the scheme next year,
To fit our growing envoy.

Maybe I'll pack away those ornaments,
That carry special memories of each little heart,
That has graced our home over the years.
Then give these memories to each loved one,
To decorate their own homes with Christmas cheer.

This years heavy heart is due to change.
One day these Christmas's will come no more for me.
I should relish that the season doesn't crash my soul anymore,
That I've worked hard to make the season special,
So my little ones never opened a despairing memory door.

I should glow in the blessing I find in each new Christmas season.
It is a season of great Hope,
And charges the soul with so much love,
If one can keep focused on what is important,
Which is in the Greatest Gift from Above.

New Year's Day is five days away,
Early is this year's Christmas dismantling.
I'm ready to pack away all the sparkle and brass,
And open up space in this home full of change.
I'm ready to let go and in this years memories bask.

We survived the doomsday predictions,
So 2013 is on it's way in, maybe....
But whatever the path God has laid before us,
It will unfold rather we want it to or not,
As I close the last box and pack away Christmas.

SNOW ON THE OUTSIDE!

Winter has come to our sandhills today in the form of our first blizzard of 2012. This drought stricken area is now blanketed in white. But it  may not get the moisture it needs, if this blasting wind blows it all the way to Kansas! A quick drive into town, just as this storm hit, had me scurrying back for home in a scary, snow blinding, drive.

I have to go in to work tonight. Scary thought.

For now, though, here, safe ... listening to the wind howl and looking out every so often, to see how high the drifts are blowing ... I'm doing loads of wash. I'm helping my brother, Carl, get all his clothes and sleeping bag ready for his trip back to his favorite home town, Lincoln, NE. He's been sleeping in our basement for nearly two months and on a day like today, I am so glad he has a warm place to hang.
I'm not ready to let him go. It's like the old days when he was just a little boy and I was the 'Momma Hen' looking out for my little brothers. Though he's all grown up now, he still needs a guardian. Someone to look out for him. And he won't let me be his guardian. Nor will my husband let me. So, on this cold snowy day, I'm doin what I can and helping him get ready for his trip home.

My brother is excited about going home. Well, not really home as he is still homeless. Yes, homeless. It's a long story and some of it I have blogged about in earlier posts. Let's just say for now he has been having a tough time and does not have a set place to call home. For the past couple of years he has been a regular camper under some Lincoln bridges or he will stay with friends who open their homes temporarily, especially during bad weather days like today. 
In my mind, this is no way to live. But his age, previous health issues with cancer and a mind that some would label child like,  all limit his employment access. He's a hard worker and a very loyal worker ... as long as he doesn't drink. He can be obnoxious when he drinks too much. He's been too poor to drink much this year. And since I've not been drinking since Feb 14th, his stay here has been very pleasant.

Why is he camping in our basement? When I learned a surgery I was dreading was going to happen Oct 1st, I knew Carl would be such a big help. He may be homeless, but I know how to get ahold of him and so I put out the call and he agreed to come. I could help him with a pillow for his head and he could help me as I recovered from spine surgery.
It has been a very comfortable arrangement, to the surprise of my husband, who, at first, restricted the my brother's stay to only six weeks. I think my husband was worried that my brother could be one of those professional panhandlers and would be a hassel under foot. But he was won over by the calm, quiet, helpful manner of my brother. My husband surprised me by giving my brother a coat for Christmas and even researched some programs that might help give my brother a respectful independence. Surprises can warm the heart!

When it became apparant that I was recovering from surgery much quicker than everyone expected and that I was beginning to fetch my own stuff and could soon drive myself around, I tried to help my brother find work and a place to live in our hometown of Ogallala. I had hoped he would think this was a cool idea, too. But Ogallala isn't the hometown he wants to live in right now. Maybe later, he says. Maybe, should our younger brother not want to be caretaker of our childhood home, he would come back and help keep things from deteriorating there. He may finally have a home, is a thought not lost in my mind.

Anyway, the washer and dryer are both full. Carl is going through his few possesions and repacking it all into one little tote I gave him. And I'm trying not to cry.

Doesn't he know that when he goes back to Lincoln that I will begin worrying again. I have the greatest fear that the phone will ring and another brother will be gone. His health is not the best. No health insurance so he doesn't go to the doctor. His health could be the worst. How can I let this all go?

At least for near two months, my brother has been safe, with a clean bed to sleep in and a fridge to keep his food in and my computer to play solitaire, addictively, on. I will miss him. I've loved having him here and was grateful to celebrate our 'family' Christmas with him. It's been years since we've been together over the holidays. We filled him up on Thanksgiving, too! I'm sure I healed quickly because he was such a great support!

So here I am at the end of the year, dreading all the changes closing in around me. My brother going back to Lincoln is just one of the many changes pending. And his return just magnifies the huge sense of loss that this year has hit me with ... 
... and, as if personal loss isn't hard enough, then our country takes it's own hard hits recently with hurricane Sandy and the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary.  And what the heck! Why does SANDY have to be the name associated with these tragedies? That troubled me enough to change my Facebook name to my nickname Sam. Like that is gona help in some way! Such is MY way, when all I can feel is helpless! So I do insignificant stuff. And feel nearly hopeless!

NO! That's not so. There is ALWAYS  hope!

As 2013 closes in, my heart is so heavy. My brother is going back to his comfort zone. Impending changes ... sheesh even the upcoming 12-21-12 is touted to be an impending .... something ... guess, I will think about that more on 12-22-12 and blog about it if nothing changes to knock out power or Yellowstone didn't blow according to some doomsayer predictions.

For now, the snow is easing and it looks like some of it is gona stay to melt when the sun comes out. Sorry, Kansas. Guess, I'll finish helping my brother get ready for his return ....

Snow on the outside!

Rain on the inside!

The sun will come out!

The sun will always come out!
Or how will the rainbows form inside?!

It is a cold, windy Sunday night in McCook, NE. The flashing marque, just outside the motel window, just informed me that it was only 14 degrees out. Usually the wind howling through the windows wouldn't bother me. I like a cool room and often leave a window open for a cool breeze. My husband won't let me do this at our country home in the sandhills. I probably could if I was paying the heating bill. And I'm not paying the heating bill in this hotel room. But then, I don't have the windows open. Don't need to. The crisp wind is still finding a way in. May need to use my fake fur coat for an extra cover tonight.

So, why McCook? Came here Friday night to hang out with my daughter and her family as they offer their presence and support to their dear friends whose 6 year old son passed from a rare brain cancer. His  funeral was today. We came early to offer any support needed and to beat a snow threat that never panned out. 

This sad time has me sitting here, on this cold, windy night, reflecting over the year and the saying 'death  seems to come in threes.' This year proves this saying true for our family. The first loss this year was our friend, Bill Davis. I posted a blog around that time expressing my sorrow. Bill was a long time friend of my husband's and when I met him, he became my Sam Elliott look-a-like! And friend! It was hard losing him. Not a surprise. Cancer does not discriminate. But seems even when you are expecting someone to leave, it still doesn't make the leaving any easier! Both he and his wife, Eva, lived on borrowed time and left us when we were not ready to let them go.

My husband and I made the trip to Council Bluffs, IA to say good-bye to our friend Bill. While there a call came in to burden me with death # 2. I arrived home from IA to pack and turn around the very same day and head back ... but going to Lincoln, NE this time.

My daughter and I made that trip to Lincoln, NE to hug our cousins and mourn the loss of a cousin whom had committed suicide. The loss of this cousin ripped our hearts out by it's suddenness and sadness, but suicide is not a surprise to our family.

I use to wish I was in a family of healthy, wise, 'popular', wealthy, elite .... oh, the list went on and on, but was sooooo foolish. I am blood related to a clan of colorful, warm souled misfits that stumble around in our brokenness with moments of despair when we take our own life suddenly, or slowly, in self destructive living modes. I am where I need to be. Wishing made me miss out on the blessings at hand and kept me from changing. When I just accepted and loved, no matter what, I found a way to survive and so came the blessings. So, yes, I am where I need to be. And this year we lost one of those broken souls from within our blessed family 'tribe'.

A few months later and here we are, near the end of the year and, today, we said good-bye to a little 6 year old HERO. Again, with my daughter, we come to this lil town of McCook, NE, ... to hug and marvel at this remarkable family and community that fell in love with their son. A little guy that was way too young to go! Yet, in his short life, he lived a life time and impacted the lives of thousands ... maybe more. His story comes together in so many other places. The Nebraska Cornhuskers, both players and fans, were touched by little Isaiah Casillas. As was the whole community of McCook. You should check out the articles on this little fella.

His funeral was a mix of such sorrow and sweet, sweet memories ... listening to how others were impacted by this young boy, who captivated everyone he met  ...  and then is so quickly gone ... made me take stock of my poor excuses for not doing my best! Shesssh!

Here was a little guy that lived with maybe only one regret ... he couldn't stay longer. He knew he was sick and he knew he wouldn't get to stay long and so he rode his bicycle and played with his friends and loved until he couldn't no more. He lived and he smiled and hugged and laughed and loved. He didn't whine or make life miserable for those around him. He blessed more, in his little time, and he fought like a true warrior. God blessed his little heart by taking him with grace and after only two weeks in Hospice, when his disease is known to be much more taxing and long suffering. Prayers for Isaiah were answered. He gave. Now it is our turn.

If death comes in threes, then this should be the end of death striking it's personal blow in my life. Death is all around us. It seems inescapable. Inevitable. It reminds us of our immortality. It is recorded everyday for someone, somewhere, and often in more than threes. As I grow older, death seems to sing it's tune more often than I care to hear it.

In all this, I am reminded that life is a gift. Too precious to waste and to unpredictable to spend life whining. 

I think the wind died down! The windows aren't whizzing. It is actually getting warm in this room with all these windows. Maybe, I'll slide the window, nearest my bed, open a bit before I turn out the light. I can prop up my pillows and get all snugly and watch the traffic driving by down there from this 2nd story window. No trucks jake breaking down the hill, like they do out by our home in the sandhills! Watching and listening to the night sounds of this lil compassionate McCook town ... seems soothing tonight.  Very soothing to a troubled soul.

So I snuggle into the pillows. One last look at that flashing marque over Kentucky Fried Chicken. It's now 13 degrees. Burrrrrr. I'm glad the wind has died down. But like death, it will rear it's ugly head again. And I go ahead and open that window a crack. And I go ahead and watch and listen.

As I drift off to sleep with such a heavy heart, I can see in my mind the last video that flashed up on the screen at the McCook Community Center at the end of the funeral for little Isaiah Casillas. With feeding tubes and his dancing eyes, he was singing a song I've lovingly watched my little grandson sing but Isaiah ends it with ...

Miss Me, Miss Me, Now Ya Gotta Kiss Me.