The skies are pretty blue in October as well. There’s this tunnel underneath the camp road that can’t be more than a foot and half in diameter. The kids told me once about how they used to try and crawl through it while playing out in the snow. One of the little boys crawled all the way through it and I was appalled when I heard that because I could hardly imagine to think them being stuck in their snowpants.

The teacher just sent out our grades for the presentation and paper. I thought they were graded together but they’re separate. The presentation was a 90. The paper was an 84 which a B-. If that was your grade in the class you would have to repeat it because in order to pass you have to have at least a B. I absolutely cried when I saw the initial grade and had finished reading through her rationales.

I thought we had actually done pretty well on it and graded everyone with A’s on our individual evaluation. The theological integration section I wrote scored the lowest percentage of everyone with a 70%. She marked the part that said “largely opinion based”. Since I am not a biblical scholar, I have to give more examples of other people saying what I am saying the Bible says. I won’t make that mistake again.

They took my father-in-law today out to the farm to see the house. They used the camp’s backboard from down at the beach to make a stretcher that they could carry him on. My husband’s uncles came and helped with the carrying. They put the seats down in one of the vans and drove him out that way. He isn’t able to get out of bed or to move that much on his own.

I wasn’t there. But it reminded me of the story where the men came carrying a paralyzed man to see Jesus. They carried him around the house and went inside. About a week and a half ago the uncles and local farmers came and harvested his crops. The neighbor at the end of their lane has been mowing the lawn and the ditches. He chose who he wants to rent the land to.

At my practicum today there was a woman suffering from postpartum depression and anxiety. My supervisor asked if I could look up some resources that we could pass on to her. They already had a standard list for childcare assistance, but I looked up more information about the crisis nursery in town. It seemed like there ought to have been something more for me to give her.

The psych rotation during nursing clinicals was my least favorite. It was the only one I didn’t like. It seemed so foreign to me and I was still thinking that everyone with schizophrenia was merely demon-possessed. My first patient was a girl with borderline personality disorder. They’re supposed to be very untrustworthy, so the whole time I was wondering whether or not she was lying.

I knew what the answer was. I was going to pray with her and I did. I remember feeling like I had somehow rebelled, but in a good way. Now they give you this list of what is considered to be the least risky/inappropriate types of spiritual practices all the way down to the most risky/inappropriate. All three of the teachers at different times have highly discouraged praying in sessions.

I don’t totally get it, but I guess I’ll listen. That is one of the things that’s hard about being a Christian in these kinds of environments. Not only do I wonder why the church can’t do more, can’t somehow being more involved in meeting people’s most basic physical and spiritual needs, but I wonder why we can’t just heal each other anymore. I now there are other ways that healing comes.

So that’s where I’m at. I wish the church was perfect but one day we will be. I know God uses us to love people in ways larger and small. In my own life personally and publicly I know he still works there. And I’m thankful that he does for however long these days are written. Whether we’re out and about in the world, or safe at home nearing heaven, at daybreak Jesus went out to a solitary place.

He was on his way out and I was on my way in. The kids and I didn’t go to church this morning. Two of the kids were out late last night for a dance. That would not have stopped us if I’d really wanted to go, but I didn’t. Dad had to preach in Waverly, and I think he’s accepted my sometimes odd church ways. I had to teach Sunday School so we couldn’t skip entirely.

“Hey, Slim”, he says in that happy way when he sees me. For as long as we’ve gone to this church it’s what he’s called me. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him actually call me by name. I am also pretty sure that addressing a woman in such a way which also involves commenting on her physical appearance is something that is and is generally considered inappropriate.

But for whatever reason it’s never bothered me except for today. He’s called me Slim all these years but I have changed since we moved here. “Slim? Still?”, I said, thinking that was enough now. I was serious. I could see slim then but would not say that now. “Oh come on”, he said, “false humility is just as much of a sin as anything else.” You can see why I like talking to him.

“No, I’m serious”, I said. Just last night I’d been thinking about my body, this cursed and ongoing struggle with being okay with what it looks like. “This whole past week I have actually been depressed because of these ten pounds I’ve gained that I can’t seem to lose”, I said. “Where?”, he asked me, wanting the evidence. I put my hands over my waist and held them there.

“Right here.” He said something that I cannot now exactly remember. The conversation gradually moved to school and how it’s going. I told him he could be one of my first clients if he wanted. “Oh no”, he said. “You wouldn’t want to know what goes on inside here. I’m pretty dark.” Well, I am too, I offered, it’s why we go into these professions. Dark would be no new surprise.

And in that moment I wanted nothing more than to prove him wrong. To go out for lunch or a drink and say, “Tell me all about your life.” He seemed sure his dark was beyond human telling. I felt pretty certain it could not be that bad. He finally agreed, but only if I told him my secrets first. “Well we couldn’t be professional then if I did that.” That’s what it says in the rules.

I actually wanted to say something else, but I refrained. I am still thinking about the body thing and I don’t think depressed was quite the right word. More like tired but faintly hopeful. “Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart”, God says. And here man does not think in the way I once thought him to. God is the one who needed perfection.

I was in bed last night when one of the boys came in and asked if he could talk to me about homecoming plans. It took a few seconds for me to register what was going on. Why was he asking about the dance? At what point did he become old enough to do this? It all fell into place and I thought, “Oh ok. That’s right.”

Some freshman boys are going together. Elianna is going with Miles and they’re meeting up with another couple. The younger boys were off school today. I also did not have to be anywhere in terms of outside commitments. We went for a walk this morning and they played on the swings. They commented on how peaceful the mornings were without school. Don’t you miss this, Mom? I do.

In Nebraska they’re having a low tomorrow of 36 degrees. I thought about it on and off through the day, wondering if I should mention the need to dress warm. I’m not going to say anything, I said, but by the evening I reached the point where I decided just to speak my peace. I said something. He said don’t worry I’ll dress warm.

My sister-in-law flew in today to stay with my mother-in-law for about a week. The hospice program provides a nurse or an aide to stop by the house 4-5 times a week. It’s nice because they deal with my medicine changes or communication with doctors. Up until it’s been my mother-in-law on the phone, leaving messages, and waiting sometimes days before anyone calls her back.

She has been a faithful wife to her husband. There is a special kind of beauty that is so plain, so inspiring, it makes you hurt and tear up when you see it. I have watched their marriage over the years as I’ve known them and there have definitely been things that I don’t understand and wouldn’t choose for myself.

But they came from that generation where you stick things out. I stand over my father-in-law’s bed when I’m there and wonder why this is happening to him. Caregiving is difficult and is in it’s way it’s own burden, but he is the one dying. He has visibly and verbally moved from the stage of wanting to fight the illness to looking forward to where this illness is taking him. Into Christ’s arms.

At first I thought everyone was just in denial about this. He never was though. The day he was diagnosed a little over a year ago he looked the doctor in the eye and asked if he needed to sell his business. “Let’s not get too carried away”, he said, but he was also honest in saying up front that his prognosis was grim.

But I think instead of denial it’s been a simple living of what is real. Bad things happen, but not only bad things. If Christ is not real for us in times like this then what was the point? But he is there. He is real. And so is the peace that passes all understanding. In the peace of God there is hope and strength to continue on to the next day. This plain and inspiring beauty has a name. It’s called love.

Our presentation last night was a bit of a flop. Basically we ran out of time at the end. We had not practiced except for once in the hour before class. There was a strict 15 minute time limit and we were told ahead of time that when time was up the presentation was over.

That’s exactly what happened. In addition, throughout the presentation the slide kept coming on and off of the big screen. You would be talking and saying your part, guided by what you were seeing on the screen, and then the screen would go blank. So then you had to look down at the other computer and continue on as of nothing out of the ordinary was happening. At one point the teacher told us to pause the time clock and we all fiddled with the computer cord. But after that it we just dealt with it.

I had previously mentioned being concerned about the time. The other group rocked their presentation and finished with a full three minutes to spare. The rubric had said that typically the presentation focuses on either the literature review or the therapy plan. I knew both of those parts had been included in the slides. I was wondering if I was the only person who had read that. We had each made slides for the parts of the paper we’d written. I spent almost two days reading through and editing to make things flow and fit together so I felt like I was very familiar with the material. I also felt like the part with the group plan was the bulk of the paper and included most of the information we needed to present.

But somewhere in that span of time I did not have the brain power to turn what I was reading into some kind of coordinated administrative action on my part where we discussed how we wanted to do this and what parts we might need to leave out of the slides. Mad is nowhere near the right feeling word, but I felt a lesser and duller version of mad that it seemed no one else had had that either. There was no discussing it afterward to process. No comforting or reassuring words from the podium. There was just going back to our seats and having the regular class lecture begin.

So anyway, that could’ve gone better but it didn’t. Today was another full day between being at my in-laws and being out again more for a few other things. I brought the boys home after lunch for some afternoon time at home. The pastors have been up at a pastor’s conference this week so I subbed today for our pastor who for this year teaches band and choir at the high school. I enjoyed doing that and seeing my kids in the hallways. Josh is staying the night with his parents to be support and an extra hand for his mom if needed.

I decided not to go to my earlier group class. I said the thing about feeling good but now I am actually very tired today. I laid down and realized I needed to stay here for a while. Josh has been talking about hiking the Grand Canyon or training to climb Pike’s Peak in a couple years with the boys. In a couple of years I think I could probably do it.

We finished our presentation slides today. It’s worth 30% of our grade so it’s kind of important. I’m still wanting to get straight A’s in my classes which I’ve done with the exception of an A- last quarter by only like a couple of hundredths of a percent. I know it isn’t what truly most matters. They say that sometimes in order to get an A in life you need to get a B in class. I agree but don’t always live by that.

Tim and a man who volunteers came over this morning to put new windows in the front of the house. Later this week they’re supposed to work on the back ones. I still want to get updated siding at some point but am happy for these. Josh and his mom are doing the pickups today. Last night we ate supper at their house and had a nice time.

The kids and I spent the evening at my in-laws house tonight. After practicum this morning I picked up the boys from school. Even with the busyness and added stressors I’ve thankfully been feeling pretty good as of late. I did take the afternoon time to rest until it was time to leave to take my son to cross country practice. My daughter’s team was practicing at the old high school campus, so after dropping him off we drove to the school and waited for about a half hour for the other kids to show up.

My heart feels blessed to have so many people it knows and loves. At one point today I had three children running at the same time in three different places. The whole thing of being a mom continues to be an exercise in trusting God. I used to think my mind had been completely wrecked because of being a mom. It seemed and can still seem at times like you carefree days are completely over, that is, your ability to simply be happy without the burden of worrying about people you now are responsible for.

It felt like there could never be peace. But today I had peace. Or at least I tried to again to practice the way of peace which comes again in the letting go. It’s weird. With my son being away you would think I would be praying for him more often than I actually do. But praying for a person is another way of thinking of a person, and it feels like I am supposed to not be thinking of him so much, that when I think of him I think of God, and know that God instead is thinking of him for me. I have peace in that.

My father-in-law was discharged from the hospital this afternoon. It feels so good to have him back at their house again. They have a hospital bed set up for him there. The hospice nurse was there for several hours today. Two of my husband’s aunts were also there to help get things settled. While they were out in the living room I was in his room and we talked. This is why we wanted him here. Because we could be with him and give him experiences and care we could not have given if he wasn’t close by.

I don’t understand this life we are called to, a life that sometimes seems so unfair. I think it to myself, but I don’t say it to God. I don’t need to, he already knows what I think. He already knows every thought, song, and mystery that confounds me. My heart is not lifted up, my eyes are open before him, and I have nothing to say because he has taken my words. I love you, I love you, I want to say back to him, and I say it to him quietly without saying anything. His banner over me is love and fulfillment.

My daughter and I went grocery shopping this afternoon. The woman at the lone check-out aisle had turned her light off, but thankfully when she saw our cart she said we could come to her. We had a pretty full cart full of lunch, breakfast, and snack-type items. This is how I think I want to do this now. It’s too much to shop for everything at once. Breaking the shopping up into parts seems to make it more doable.

I don’t have much to say tonight, neither do I feel like saying much. I tried to write a poem and called it “Silence”. It didn’t work. So I put the computer away and was going to do something else. I have this thing though where I don’t like to let the first day of the month pass by without posting. It feels like I’ve missed an important day if I do.

The paper that was due last week has to be a presentation now. It’s the harder teacher so she gave all kinds of thorough and depressing feedback. I really like school, but the projects and assignments can feel like a nuisance when so many other things are going on in the meantime. If I had unlimited money I would keep going to school and keep getting degrees. No PhDs though. I haven’t even the faintest desire for that.

I texted Josh to let him know that there’d been people outside our front door all day. The Emmaus group is here this weekend, along with a church group from Decatur, plus a Girl Scout group that’s not been here before. I said I should be getting paid for door/office service, or at least getting the HSA family raise I requested. It was all a bit passive aggressive, I admit.

Sometimes I just feel like he needs to know what goes on around here. One of the ladies whose money I took said she had just been on the phone with him. While I was in the middle of texting him a man walked into our house and said, “Hello?” I never know whether to say hello back or to say as I am coming around the corner, “Oh, this isn’t the office.” I said hello, and he said in a way suddenly timid and shy, “Oh. This isn’t the office is it.” No it’s not, but that’s okay. People do this all the time.

“Lock the door”, he said. Always the man coming up with the solutions. I guess it’s not just men who do this. The other day in our group therapy class my professor interrupted my heated and overly zealous biblical exposition saying, “You are really intent on fixing this for her”, the her being the classmate whose personal issues we were discussing. I was intent.

They decided today to officially bring my father-in-law home on hospice care. They’ve discontinued his oral chemo drugs and gave him the option to begin more infusions in St. Louis. The infusions came with side effects and could be risky with his weakened health. They would also require him to be there for monitoring for up to ten days at a time per infusion. None of us felt like that was the right thing to do. It is the hope to have everything set up and ready so he can come home this Tuesday.

I’ve been feeling compelled to talk to my own kids more about what is going on. When people ask they ask how Josh and the kids are doing with everything. I share my answers, but in so doing, I realize I am needing more information myself. I have one child who is more emotional. The others are quieter. But we are all in agreement that this was not what we wanted.