This months sure feels like it has taken a long time. Beginning with visiting my sister-in-law at their new house to spending part of the day with them this afternoon at the waterpark, I feel like much has gone on in-between. And even then it’s not over. Elianna’s first meet is tonight in Clinton. The younger boys and I are fighting off some kind of sickness. One was well enough to go but one is home with me.

It was only me at the park. The others went last week when I was again too tired to go and interested in regaining and preserving my energy. We did the hill slides, the wave pool, and the lazy river before I needed to leave to be back in time to leave here. I came home and my son was still sleeping on the couch, red faced and warm. I’d had fun at the park but soon felt the fever, aches, and chills catching up with me too.

I’m at that point where I can do things if I have to even if I’m not feeling great. I still don’t even know what this is. It’s a weakness, an impairment, that I have to be mindful of mostly each day. Part of what was so upsetting to me with my come-to-Jesus moments with the overnights is that I felt like I’d been completely knocked back in terms of progress in physical wellness. I look normal now but I am not.

And it’s hard because it’s not something I really talk about with hardly anyone. There’s no name to describe it, the story is far too personal to even mildly tell it in a way that would probably help to give context and a far more clear explanation. So I just keep hobbling, twitching and retreating to my bed and my home away from more human eyes. And my kids, this is life now. I missed this same meet two years ago.

I broke down on the couch, across from the sick one, so kind and polite. He reminded me of his older brother at this age, the same qualities, the same tone. Time isn’t a thief, but it’s continuing to move and to move us, stopping only for the Lord when he descends from his heavenly throne-room. Tomorrow is the chicken fry and dad keeps going, somehow always. I say if only he’d be weak, then I could be strong for you…

~~~

A woman texts me in the morning. We need to get together–2022 is when we took our last picture. And for once in my life I can’t keep up. These people. These precious, wonderful people. Before that, the daughter-in-law I’ve never once met in person, and only talked to on the phone. She’s officially inviting herself over to this wonderful camp she is hearing of. And in all sincerity I play along. She can visit. We can paddleboard.

Some old, some new. People in my life that I’m sure God has placed there. But suddenly I’m angered. Why is it always one-on-one, with no greater context to connect us to anything? I need groups, I need more, I need something bigger. My sister-in-law mentions the small groups at their church. I recently tell a pastor’s wife, two as I think of it, that I am this close to leaving the LCMS to find a church with more passion and joy.

Is it me? Is it me? They assure me it’s not. And then I hear of more, of the burdens and trials, and I think, you know? We truly are all poor miserable sinners. And you are sobered into remembering the daily blessings of life, of house and home, spouse and wilderness. And then another–will I be there tomorrow? I do not know. For me and sons she directs the Psalm–“Magnify the Lord with me, let us exalt his name together!”

The boys had quizzes in their books today. It works out so that every five days they have quizzes, except for the third week and then there’s a test. After that they move on to the next booklet. Three of the subjects they do on their on at their grade level: Math, Language Arts, and Reading. The other three subjects they do the same level together: Bible, Social Studies, and Science. I’ve been reading the SS, Science, and Math so far.

The big kids seem to be liking their school. Elianna has been kind of over school since sophomore year. The veterinarian route is too much school so she doesn’t want to do that. There are veterinary techs and veterinary assistants. I can’t remember the difference now but one is a shorter program and the other is longer. One of them you can do at the local community college and the other is only offered at certain schools.

I haven’t thought much of Ethan. We’ve texted briefly here and there. Today he let me know that he felt his running was getting worse again. He can’t catch a full breath when he runs anymore. Coach is stumped and I am too. In the summer he’d been doing so well, shaving off time and seeing and feeling improvements. He says he’s sleeping and eating well. Coach wonders if maybe the airways in his lungs are inflamed somehow.

Does he think he needs time off? Does he think he needs to quit? He’s not fatigued or he’d be more inclined to take some time off. He doesn’t want to quit, he still wants to run. I don’t know, maybe it’s your diaphragm, I said. I can’t think of anything else that would be causing the difference since going to school. Stress? Pressure? I sent him some YouTube videos of guys doing exercises. They get their physicals every summer.

Sigh. I’m not saying coach’s thought is wrong, and if I think he’d agree I’d say just come home and school’s no big deal and we’ll take you to the doctor to start ruling things out. I’m just trying to start with the least invasive and go from there. Is this different from the way you were feeling sometimes during the running last year? Yes this is different. Dad’s car broke down at the district office, so I went and picked him up from there.

“Is this getting to be too much for you, hun?” It was somewhere between the hours of 2 and 3 and we hadn’t yet been up the whole night. We’d gone for a walk around the dining room, trying to get relief from the pain after tossing and turning had not been working. The kicker in all this was that her surgery knee was completely fine. Small amounts of ache and drainage but after months of being barely able to walk and counting the too many days until surgery, now she had a different problem.

“Well the short answer is, I love you.” These are not odd words between us, although it usually comes out “love you” and then I say it to her back. I didn’t need to bring this up and Lord knows I’ve already said it, but I had to say again about the time she bought us groceries. She spent $282 or something outrageous. I could not believe someone would spend that much money, that people even had that kind of money to spend. And then she had taken me and spent it on us. She’ll still send us money. $500 at Christmas.

“These could’ve been my parents”, I’m thinking to myself. Not really, I think also, I’m sure it wouldn’t have been that way. Anymore this has nothing to do with him. I’ve heard about his life and see the pictures of his kids. There comes this point though where you’re no longer thinking about past people. He is not the one who has loved me now for two decades, the person who has graciously let me come here without even a halt or hesitation. I am not going to indulge these thoughts, these memories.

He is not, I am positive, even thinking about me, a fact that helps even more to bring my thoughts into submission. There were three young men I loved in high school, and this particular person was one of them. Sophomore, junior, and senior year. After that he went to Lincoln, where Barbara went also, another friend I was sometimes jealous of. I’d known him longer, I hope she knew that, but she was still nice. For whatever reason he didn’t end up with her either. I knew his kiss count and it was absolutely ridiculous.

But he was not, for me, marriage material, something we could sense, think, and talk about back then–I’m sure he doesn’t even remember. Great fun, yes. Someone to hang with and ride around in his truck with. He wouldn’t wear a seatbelt and was proud of not doing so. He’d blast his songs and songs by The Dixie Chicks and I wanted to be right there with him with whatever so-called pillow of blue bonnets. One time I was, in the back of his truck, and then another, and neither time could we rightly indulge.

So we didn’t very much and this drove me crazy, this taking of turns where neither one could be free. But it was fine because it wasn’t meant to be for us anyway. In marriage you needed someone responsible. And that was our problem, we were too much alike. Who would actually do the dishes? Who would be the serious, the ordered one? I went to camp and forgot all about home, about all these people who’d meant so much to me before. I don’t remember ever officially breaking up. I just came back and was different.

One time I asked Josh, not too terribly long ago, “What was it that attracted you to me? Like what was the thing that made the first big impression?” He said it was my faith, that I seemed like an actual, genuine Christian. And then I told him what mine was, that he was humble and had a servant heart. I woke up in the morning and said I wanted him next to me. It was dark, around 5:11, and another hour before I’d hear back. This time I’d left early to return to my man. He was in the kitchen helping Ron with the deliveries.

I’ve got two more hours of internship that I can mark off. I promise not to bring up every time I’m getting hours. This time we had a “wrap-around” meeting where the shelter directors, the social worker, and I (grammar??) were all present. The meeting was supposed to start at four so I got there at 3:45 and it didn’t start until 4:25. I counted all of it, and at 5:45 we were done to equal two hours. I like it because even though it’s a professional environment, I feel like I can relax and still be myself.

The girls take turns coming in and get to update everybody on how they are doing. If they have complaints about something this is their time to bring things up. Two of the girls had not been following the guidelines of turning in 75% of their food stamp money to put toward group food costs. One woman gets $900 a month and said she had given $500 to her mom. She has some kids living with her at the shelter and the rest are living with her mom. She also had spent some of the money on snacks for her kids at some expensive ice cream place. The director understood the having kids somewhere else situation and changed the number so that $450 could still go to her mom and she still would have some left over to buy snacks for her kids.

Next week she said I could start meeting with the moms. She wants me to get to know them first and then meet the kids. They still are wanting some kind of kids group and she said they can try and get me a curriculum. She introduces me to everybody there as “the counselor”. I just think it’s hilarious. While with work I really needed a little more hand-holding and extra attention, I get the sense here that they expect you to be capable and are going to put you to work as if you are.

Black women somehow have immaculate skin. I do not think I saw a single wrinkle on any of them. I don’t think it’s botox because it’s true for too many I’m supposed to go back tonight for one more night. Last night the woman called and said that I had the night off. She feels bad and doesn’t want to burden our families, so she called another woman to come and stay with her last night. Her daughter-in-law and I had both been having these serious come to Jesus moments yesterday at different times. Neither one of us could believe that at the first sign of pain and struggle in this situation we’d started to crack. God has something to teach us in everything.

She texted today and said she’d gotten five hours of sleep and that the day had been much better. I pray it is true and I pray it continues. I told her she wasn’t a burden and that I wanted her to get well and feel better again. I shouldn’t have signed up for four days in a row, and I could feel that at the time, but for whatever reason I still did it. I’m thankful to God for working that out for me and I pray that he would continue to do so. I’m still very tired, have been very preoccupied, and miss sleeping at home in my bed.

Annoyed wasn’t the right word I was getting at earlier. I don’t know if there’s a word, but the idea is looking down on someone, and thinking less of them, for being weak. You think, “Come on, dude. What’s a little pain and discomfort, and God forbid, some discomfort prolonged?” Women talk about the man cold and I don’t understand it. You want to smack them and be like, “What kind of beast and awful person are you?”

I don’t have to go in tonight, and I am relieved. It’s very hard to watch people suffer and hard to do it also in the middle of the night. I don’t want to talk bad about the medical system because it truly saves lives and has good people throughout. It’s just that if you want to be seen and want someone to hear you, then you have to be loud and not just compliant. Loud is not the same as rude. You have to keep asking until someone listens.

We are supposed to comfort others with the comfort we’ve received. I was wondering today what kind of comfort I’ve received from God, how would I describe it? He has unlimited grace and his thoughts are not evil. When he suffers he does so with full trust in his Father. His unlimited grace is sufficient for us when ours forever will not measure up. He gives to us rest for our bodies and souls, his beloved eternal and endless wells.

I remember when reading Gretchen’s Caring Bridge emails feeling, only sometimes, a little–annoyed (Christ, have mercy), when the letters started to take on the tone that the caregiving aspect was taking a toll. A spouse with terminal cancer, if that’s what she had, then this was your wife and that was part of the deal. How much had that woman suffered from the giving of herself? And that went on for years and years.

But with her it had been at least one. And it is simply a denial of reality to think it is possible for it not to take a toll. And it is a denial of my humanity to not have compassion on those when it does. So I’m sorry for that, that my heart did not have more compassion to give for him, though I did pray for him because God was still there. Being a human being is hard, and we all are just these weak and fragile people.

I’ve been on both sides of the caregiving spectrum, where I’m the one giving it and where I’m the one needing it. If I had to choose I’d say the needing it is worse, though both times brought you to the point of being where if given the choices you’d never wish to go back to. You’d never want to relive it. The exception to this was Josh’s dad, where I actually longed to be at his bedside again, if then the only way to be with him.

It was Josh who spent the night with his mom. Yes, I had said that you need to go and be with her, but it wasn’t me who volunteered to go myself. I’ve thought about this so much. Why didn’t I go, particularly when I knew it would’ve needed to be done. There was nothing sinister, or held back in bitterness or some unvoiced hurt. That’s why I didn’t go to Christmas sometimes, that year I was sick and could not have gone anyway.

I say bitterness like it’s an acid that still remains. I pray it doesn’t. I want only grace and love and peace there. The only reason I can think of with the nighttime portions with Josh’s dad is that God had not yet called it back out of me. By the end of my time with him he had, had called something back out of me. This is what I knew how to do and would do.

It isn’t normally this crazy they said. The girls were cleaning up supper and doing the dishes. At the shelter the women all have chores. There are all kinds of rules and standards actually. Today was my first day and all I did was observe. I like observing because no one’s expecting things from you and it gives you a chance to take some things in. I can’t figure out why I’m okay with this place. I feel comfortable there.

There was a little bit of awkwardness. Today I was the only white person upstairs. They had me observing in the temporary shelter. The building is currently full to capacity. The first time I visited there was no one in the emergency shelter because it wasn’t time for the hours. But now the many bunks were full with women of various race and ages, even ones who looked close to elderly. Upstairs there are nineteen kids living there.

They’re hoping I can do a group with the kids. I feel like kids aren’t necessarily exactly my thing but I can do it. Today there were lots of kids running around. The heat index was higher so the little ones didn’t go outside as much. I did get to help two girls with their math homework. We went in a side room and I searched for a YouTube video that could teach them about the Greatest Common Factor. I tried but needed assistance.

All of the math is done on computers now. I can’t even imagine how you learn math that way, and from it seemed at least, they hadn’t learned much. We worked for probably close to an hour and not until the mother said something about twins did I notice that their faces were basically identical. So that took up some time while things really were pretty loud and busy. I’m just glad to have gotten three hours now done.

The boys started school today was well. I left from my night duty a little earlier this morning, not long after the 6AM alarm. The nights thankfully have gotten progressively better. I have only done two but am schedule for the next three nights in a row. We think that if she continues doing well she might not need to continue the night care. The first several days were very rough with unexpected and atypical pain complications.

This is all just a little bit much, I know. Josh took the boys shopping later for food. After getting home we had a good talk. I’m a believer in talking things out, even extensively at times, but sometimes you just have to suggest that each person distill their takeaways into one basic point regarding what you are needing to prevent the outcomes and behaviors you are trying to prevent. By 9:15 things were ready again to start school.

Dad, the boys, and I talked to Ethan this evening. I asked if their was a good time to Facetime this evening and at first he said yes, and then he said the afternoon might be better, and then he said the evening was fine again, so that’s what we did. He said Laura is about 100% convinced that she’s going to transfer to Concordia next year. I asked why she is thinking she wants to do that. I can understand and am not against the idea, as long as it is her idea and not anybody else’s.

But these are all thoughts I keep mostly to myself. It used to bother me so much to watch parents of adult kids hold back so much of their thought and conviction. Like, have some backbone and speak up. But it’s not that simple and you have to be sensitive to the changing dynamics in the relationship, whatever they are, that as much as you feel you deserve a say and have valuable things to share, you still have to be tactful, and courteous, and listen first, then maybe speak.

I’m going to write more letters. Miles was here visiting today but I didn’t talk to him. I’ve stayed mostly in my room over the past two days. I don’t like this and am ready to not have it be this way where I am missing so much of my life because I can’t function. Well nevermind about Miles. He was just in the living room. He said it’s nice to be back where people speak English. I guess there are like six different languages people speak on his team, mostly Portuguese and Spanish.

I’m not sure how long a person is supposed to struggle before they reach the point where they’ve done all they can. If there is a timeframe, or a limit, it does truly feel as though I have met it. Last month I wrote, “But somehow the rope keeps getting extended every single time I come to the end of it.” Now I am just sitting at the end of the rope wondering what I’m supposed to do and where I’m supposed to go now.

This isn’t any one person’s fault. I am guilty and have done my share of the damage. I have toxic traits that continue to this day. But something else has grown in me, even more than a fighting spirit or a weak and defeated one. It’s a peace to acknowledge the truth, and not just acknowledge it, but to live and breathe and also walk in it.

I have never lived apart from the life that I have known, and I think that is in part what has added to my struggle and what has taken me so long. Plus, eases I’ve enjoyed I’ve not wanted to give up. I still don’t. And honestly now I do not know if I can, so much have our lives become so intertwined, and so much have I formed myself to and been formed by this life. I’ve been known to say a lot of things, it’s the actions that get me.

It’s been a one-day-at-a-time policy here since getting back. Little things that are part of the every day but are just different enough to prevent the groove from returning. The younger boys do not start school until Monday, so they’ve been trying to keep themselves busy with Dad’s newly decided and established limits on the Minecraft and YouTube. We ran some errands in town including a Walmart run and a library pickup. I stayed in the van while they went in. Too many overdue books for me lately.

I am thoroughly exhausted from our trip, but the memories were worth it. Our time together still is lingering in my mind, though it’s fading with the return of forward movement into the days. I looked for another calendar at Walmart but the one I have goes through this year so I didn’t need one. I picked up another journal to have one ready for whenever this one runs out, which it isn’t going to run out any time soon.

We found cards for my mother-in-law’s birthday tomorrow. It was day we were driving back, but we made plans to go over to her house and bring supper. We could’ve gone out to eat but I feel like they have that house, we need to be making efforts to spend time there. Tonight I am spending the night with a sweet lady friend who recently had knee surgery. It’s been arranged for me and her daughter-in-law to split through the end of the month to have someone there at night. I was happy she asked me.