I open my eyes to cup of coffee on the hotel nightstand. I know that my husband, whose shower I can hear through the wall, is the one who has placed it there. This registers as positive points. Later in the morning I sit down on the bed and say to him, “Listen, everything you do it is being filtered and sorted into one of two categories in the recesses of my mind: 1) Okay, he does love me, and 2) He doesn’t care at all.

This sorting, I have figured out, is really going on at all times, but only now am I truly conscious of it. For the past two days I have been hurting with thoughts in my head that number two is winning out. The night before last was the worst. I unleash my pain and sudden fury in a series of texts. A man who loves a woman need not be begged to give attention, needs no direct and repetitive asking for what she needs on a regular basis.

I am right, and if he would simply concede, if he could find the truth in my words and know, to understand, their true desperation. I have never known a creature, this one they call “man”, to so much lack such a natural sympathy, to be able to cause such pain to women, and at the same time, have no capacity to comfort them in any of it. I know I’ve gone too far somewhere and I do apologize, for the suddenness, for the method.

Just get down here and hold me, you stupid fool. I don’t say the last part. I have no interest in giving in to his direction. He will hold me and I will cry this out in his arms. And I know my limits. I can do this if the complaints, if the pain and bitterness I harbor has to do with anything else except for him. He comes down to where I am and I can see he’s trying. I cry it out, relieved, yet remain quiet and depressed the entire next day.

But that’s all in the past now. Today I felt better, though still baffled by these repeated pains that come upon me. We leave Seward, Nebraska to make the second leg of our trip to Custer, South Dakota. We pass the day in peace, with the suspense gradually building with the change of the landscape from plains into bluffs. For the most part I read, grateful to have a book to keep me busy as we ride. I find a woman in the story.

The kids and I went to the car wash this morning. I wanted both the vehicles vacuumed out but they don’t let you use the vacuums without a membership or first purchasing a car wash. A couple of weeks ago one of the boys and I went to find a vacuum for the van. I pulled up and asked a lady who was also there with her car where we were supposed to pay.

She said it was free. I couldn’t imagine how something like that could be free nowadays but we went ahead and vacuumed it out. Later I came back and told everyone about this car wash place we’d found where you could get free vacuuming. My husband was like, “I think you have to have a membership first” and of course he was right. But today they were having twelve-dollar Tuesday where you can get the most expensive wash done plus the free vacuuming.

So that’s what we did. I don’t know why I never thought to take the kids to something like this when they were little. We could’ve had such a fun tradition that when things got hairy at home and everybody was going stir-crazy we just hopped into the van and drove to the car wash. It would’ve mesmerized them surely and we wouldn’t have even had to go in anywhere.

They said they used to do this with Grandma. I had no idea but I was very happy to hear this. So they all knew what to do when we came out of the laugh-inducing washing tunnel and there were enough vacuum hoses around so that everyone could help. I felt like a civilized adult having a vacuumed out car. The boys drove home with one and then Elianna and I continued on to Walmart. I felt like I needed a couple of shirts in addition to cat food and things.

Then we stopped by Aldi to get snacks. Later this afternoon we all went to the Athens track for the boys to run their 4×400. No one was able to find the baton so they used a hammer handle. They shaved around 20 seconds off of last year’s time. After that I took a nap and then wanted to swim to help my joints. Dad came with. It was early enough to still swim in the sun.

I don’t know what is going on. I’m tired of writing about my life in this way, these endless mazes lost inside my own thoughts while all the while the mind of God goes so unexplored. I get these urges to leave and don’t know how to discern them. My heart hurts and I no longer want to share any more of it. I can use this blog for quotes that I like, or songs I come across. I will write where I can here but please don’t expect things.

We’ve been tying up loose camp and household ends before our trip. The field needed mowed, the boys needed haircuts. I went for a walk and found Elianna on the retreat center deck talking to Miles. They’ve been going through Bible books, first Galatians and now Titus. His school is one of the first stops on our trip, two vehicles driving out with one of returning college things.

I’ve not put any energy into getting his room sorted out or things ready. Laura is here today before she heads back to school and they were going to pack and clean up in there. The boys have returned from the outside to find snacks. Dad is in the office getting ready to be away. I am taking a moment before starting on supper. Meatball subs, salad, corn on the cob, and whatever else. The temps are cooler.

We traveled once more to St. Louis this morning. My sister-in-law’s installation took place during the late service. The church’s parking lot is currently under construction which necessitated a detour to the parking garage across the street. There were no regular spots so we ended up parking in one of probably twelve of more handicapped spaces. We met Uncle Glenn at the hotel in town where my mother-in-law had also driven to meet us. Together we carpooled.

Uncle Glenn made the comment after church that one of his uncles used to say, “Kids can only sit no more than an hour in church, it doesn’t matter their age.” I’m afraid my sore hips and worn down attention span tend to agree. I am sometimes left to wonder if it isn’t just some deep inner unknown flaw that causes me to feel so down in church, through not completely. Sometimes the sermon speaks, sometimes it’s a hymn line, sometimes it’s found in the introit or readings.

Here is perhaps a skewed and rightly unpopular opinion: The LCMS is not the denomination for people who thrive on fellowship and meaningful relationships. It’s nothing against the pastors. They do what they are trained to do, and they are trained to staunchly believe in what they are doing. Though I am open to considering, to conceding even, that it is not the Sunday script that so much causes me agony, but rather the lack occurring in the every other days.

Which is all the more reason to be glad for family moving closer. They have been going non-stop since the move and soon there is the start of school. I do feel bad for the way the world drives us. A more sense steeled person might look at the situation and say, “Well, this is the life they chose”, as a sort of buffer against pity. But I am not that person, and instead I tend to simply wonder how it’s possible. Too many hardships come upon us unbidden with no choice to be had.

Except perhaps the choice to continue in faith, to not grow weary in doing good, and even that is the Spirit’s gift to us. I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to accept this, to relinquish the need for some kind of reward. Were any Christians of old awarded medals for their deeds or great leaps toward joy? If there had been any trophies, the hymnwriter had it right. To spread your trophies at his feet would be the only sane step, followed only by moving them out of your way.

To then reach for and kiss his feet but I suppose a man would not soon sing that. One day it will be, though he will not leave us there. Until then we struggle rather feebly I’m afraid, until the believer is reunited with Christ upon death. By then it won’t matter one’s particular odd moods or pleasantness, or predictable traits of personality, or however much more he worked to feed the faith of others. As the angel of the Lord said to Elijah in today’s reading, “The journey is too much for you…”

Whoever the person. Whatever the call. But not for God who keeps us going. I find myself wondering if I am to be finding less pleasure or more as the clock ticks on in this world. The things of earth, again just as they said, might grow strangely dim but at the same time my appreciation for things God gives here grows deeper. So still we rejoice and are glad in Him, however weakened, if only for a moment, until the day comes when we shall no longer wonder but see Him fully.

“It was only gradually that I came to understand that some things are meant to be cherished and not sacrificed.”
~Elisabeth Elliot, These Strange Ashes~

It’s been a busy past few days, the calendar sprinkled with family reunions, trips to St. Louis, anniversary outings, and cousin sleepovers. We had a funeral this morning for one of the founding members of our church. He and his wife were married for somewhere around 70 years. Whenever you see her on Sundays she will ask how you are, and after you say you’re doing well and ask her back, she says, “I’m blessed.”

Our anniversary time went well. We returned to the Inn and this time stayed in the Hyacinth room. We had to go the night before the actual date since all the rooms were booked on Friday night because of the fair. We’ve got a pretty good routine down now when it comes to these dates. I used to feel pressure to make sure things happened according to my particular ideas and assumptions of his expectations. The marriage books often said you needed to give yourself time to unwind while away from the kids.

We’re not in that stage now. We know what we like and don’t need to much veer from it. Last night we had a circuit cookout for pastors and families. We don’t really put it on ourselves, camp just serves as a place to have it. We had a family reunion for most of today. Dad and the kids went ahead after the funeral but I stayed behind and went to bed from 1 to 4. It’s the way it must be done when days are fuller. I met them there.

(Photo: Center Park at Lake Springfield)

Sometimes I wish
We could process together
Compare notes
And ask each other
Was it like this for you?

Why would God do this?
Create a call that couldn’t happen
But at the same time
So deeply effect
Our inner lives?

Was there no other way
To keep us close to his path
Would I have really
Not listened
And done something much worse?

And what of the others?
Who through no fault
of their own
No deed deserving
Became lesser

I will love them more now
And you yours
I can accept the gift as is
The force, the intersect, the grounding
Even stronger than you

Dad, the boys, and I went to the Athens track this evening. Last year toward the end of summer they ran a brothers 4×400 relay. They wanted to continue the tradition this year except this time they’re adding the 4×100, 4×200, and 4×800. Tonight was the 4×100 (1:02) and 4×200 (2:15). My job was to watch and take videos from the stands. Dad was the starter and official timer for the race and for splits.

I know I’ve written a lot about work things and the stresses, mostly because that is what first assaults my nerves and needs processed. But there are heartwarming things too that, as they say nowadays, “hits different” (bad grammar, I know). We spent a lot of time in the room of a woman who had recently returned from the hospital. It was about time to be finishing up our tasks and clicking off our MAR items so we could be ready to get out of there, but this nurse didn’t seem rushed at all.

They have a routine where she holds up a teddy bear. I didn’t catch what the teddy bear meant. They like to watch old movies together with the handsome actors like Paul Newman and others. The woman is non-verbal but is alert to self and people. She can make expressions, shake her head when she hears you, and look you straight in the eye. Then the nurse walked to the shelf and picked up a picture of the woman’s deceased husband.

She held it up so she could kiss him. It makes me tear up just typing about it. On the same shelf is a picture of an adult daughter in heaven, I didn’t ask what happened. The woman doesn’t remember but the nurse says it’s for the best. I had to go get some different dressings from the supply room but didn’t have a pen to sign it out for the charges. Thankfully I did remember to go back and write it down because who knows if there’s a video camera in that room someplace.

If there’s a video camera in a resident room they mark it clearly at the door. It’s their right to have one and it’s our right to know. The biggest reason I didn’t want to work any 7-11’s here is because I didn’t want to have to walk to my car that far in the dark. It’s fine in the daytime but it’s different at night and by then all the maintenance and security men have gone home. I just walked straight and made it clear.

Yesterday I walked out of my evening shift almost giddy. I have avoided the word “love” when talking about this job because it has felt too soon to say something so committed. But in that moment if I’d have had a feelings scanner that measures raw feelings it would’ve shown up saying, “Oh my gosh, I love this”. Part of it I think was just hanging out with a nurse for four hours so in some ways it was kind of like having a friend.

The night before was a completely different story. I didn’t learn any of the things that I’d thought out ahead of time to ask and learn. The nurse was having a terrible night work-wise and personally. I guess there are men out there who can be 50-something and are calling their girlfriends because he’s hungry and can’t find the remote. It didn’t matter how many times she told him to stop calling or that she was very busy right now.

I actually texted my husband and asked him to pray because I was scared. There was another one who was calling her who was also a grown man and also related. A mind reader throughout the night would’ve seen something like, “You have got to be kidding me. Not normal, again.” I felt bad for the nurse and she felt bad for me and I just was like, listen, it’s okay, are you okay? I mean, I wanted to learn but people are important.

So that was completely screwy. I did get to do a bladder scan which I’d never done before or even knew such a thing existed. It’s basically like a portable ultra-sound machine that you roll into their room and put the gel on their lower abdomen and then follow the directions so you can see if they’re retaining urine after going. I also finally learned how to load up the nighttime tube feeding into the pump and then program it.

We always just did it by gravity. They still do it that way but the pumps are for people who really do not eat much or at all by mouth. They had those before I’m sure, I just don’t remember ever having had a patient (as a nurse) with one or setting one up myself…and now I’m starting to get that nervous, doubting feeling again. I hate it when I get so excited like this. I think I ended up liking it but hopefully it was the right box.

I saw an Instagram post today that got me thinking about homeschooling. @lauren_stadler posted it in her stories but the post I am referencing originally came from @siloandsage that said “Formal lessons are just one way kids learn. Don’t put your home education into a box.” She was offering ideas for homeschool that went beyond kids sitting at a desk doing worksheets. You can learn math via cooking and learn spelling through playing Scrabble, etc.

And I don’t disagree with it. There was an excitement in homeschooling that you could, as she says, “count it all”. All the things you were doing as daily life were part of school, and this, somehow, was better than what they could be getting somewhere else. It wasn’t a conceited belief on my part. It was more like a gut feeling, an instinct that said right now my children were better off with me.

When I see those posts now it absolutely exhausts me. Like I feel the exhaustion of what it would be like if I were to try what we did then and do it the same way now. I don’t have that kind of spunk or energy. I remember thinking that the growth, restraint, and adjustments made and needed in the first full year of homeschooling had surely taken five years off of my life. But after that we settled in.

Not all of my kids have had the same experience. As my oldest has told me, homeschooling wasn’t bad, but LuHigh was better. For him it beyond a shadow of a doubt was. The others have had more evened-out opinions. There are pros, there are cons, to every school option. They have all done well whenever entering “real school”, which gives me the assurance and confidence needed that the school part in our equation was doing it’s job. I’m not changing that.

But I hope to do now more learning alongside them, in the way of also working through the books and the lessons. With no classes of my own my mind is freed up, and that is the way I like it to be. When I look forward to the days with anticipation not dread. That is the best part to me about being home. The possibilities are endless, the creative outlets are live-giving. And being with those who taught me most about love.

I rarely come away from a shift feeling confident. I keep thinking these 4-hour work shifts are going to be part of the key to low-stress living. But I have lost track now if there even ever was one that was straightforward and simple in the way I would hope for. Anymore, to have a solid foundation in the field as a floor nurse I’d say you need at least five years experience. Coming into this I only had two.

So the director was completely right to say she planned to treat me like a brand new nurse. I was relieved when she said that, and think of it still as I’m driving home and my mind is busy again thinking about all the things that went on. If I’m a brand new nurse it makes sense why I’m questioning if this or that is worth notifying the doctor. It seems that more often then not the answer is yes you had better.

And then the doctor will order things and you’ve got to put them all into the computer. This is the part you have to do because if you don’t then the pharmacy isn’t notified and the lab has no idea. This time the weekend supervisor did it for me, which I was very thankful for, but it still doesn’t help me learn to do it by myself. They walk me through it and I’ve done it several times but not enough for it to stick.

Confidence was one of things I was supposed to work on according to my employee evaluation. That and making the scheduler more aware of availability. I do feel more confident when it comes to what to actually do with a person. I’m supposed to train 7-11 the next two nights and if we have time I am going to ask her to show me how to put the oxygens machines together and how to put in the orders.

And to tell me exactly what I would do if there was a code. I’m just trying it out and am free to not like it and say no to those hours. This is all if I don’t get a call from a boss saying I majorly screwed something up and am done. That med error write-up lives in my calendar, as a reminder to me that I want to be confident but not too much so.