“…to declare your steadfast love in the morning, and your faithfulness by night.”
~Psalm 92:2~

When we were with Grandma Sunday morning she wanted us to go around and share our testimonies, the stories about how and when we accepted the Lord. My sister and I were in our room for rest time and I told her I was going to ask Jesus into my heart. We were on the floor with our pillows next to each other. This seemed like something that was intimate and private so I put my head under my pillow and prayed.

I was four. She was three. Later around age five I wanted to ask him again. We came home from Vacation Bible School and I told Mom this time. She prayed with me and it was kind of a big deal. She told Dad and he was happy and there was a family meeting on the couch. I never doubted my salvation. The repeated askings were only feeble attempts to get me closer, to bring me nearer to this one I loved so much.

Like it was the only way I knew how to express it, this come to me, be with me that God had awakened. Like a breath is not enough and the exhale takes longer. About every 10-15 she would ask us again, wanting us to share our stories. This is new, but it is not, and we loved her more and more because of it. And she was satisfied with our answers because answers weren’t the point, only God unending who fills in the gaps.

The boys made a scarecrow last week to scare campers and school groups. I think the only one it’s really scaring is me because every time I’m in the kitchen and catch the window in my eye there’s this black figure in the field that isn’t normally there. I kept thinking it was an ostrich. The big kids came home from practice later one night once the sun had gone down and they asked, “Who is that person standing out in the field?”

A picture doesn’t do it justice. They never do. Every time I tried to take a picture of the river, or of the sky in the early morning as we took off from the plane, I kept thinking, “But that’s not what it looks like, that’s not what it looks like…” I saw an Instagram reel once that compared this phenomenon to pictures we see of ourselves. I don’t think guys care as much but for girls you can often think you don’t look good in pictures.

And this reel said it’s the same way about pictures of you as the ones you take of the sunsets when there is no way to truly capture their fullest essence and beauty. This was me as a forty-something reading this and I was absolutely floored. I’d never put those two phenomenons together. If that’s true and that’s what it’s like then I can hardly believe it, how wrong we can be, how so much time is wasted on whatever isn’t true.

I keep thinking I need to make a writing goal, to commit myself to writing one smart sounding paragraph a day. I can read a page of something, then try to carefully explain whatever it is I just read, and then not only that, but then share my thoughts or voice some kind of conclusion. It bothers me so much to be stuck like this, to not be growing and developing my brain in other ways. It’s like I can’t or wasn’t meant to sound smart.

Dad is at a pastor’s conference in Carlyle. When we were plotting out our calendar and trips it was realized that I would be gone and then he would be gone and the opportunity see each other would not happen in between. He dropped the boys and their schoolbooks off with Grandma around 9AM. I was home around 1:30 and went straight to bed. After that I went to the store and the boys were back here around 4:30.

At first I was disappointed that he’d be there without me, not that I’m sure I would have gone. Going to these conferences together used to be our thing. Grandma would come down and stay with the kids. A couple of times, maybe only once, I brought two of them with. I love Carlyle Lake and wanted to be there with him when he saw it too. The kids and I used to come here and play, half of them I don’t think would even remember.

Actually, he’s coming to the meet. The kids have a meet and then he’ll be home on Wednesday. The kids and I went to get ice cream in the evening. One wanted to drive and the others just wanted to go out and do something. One of the former counselors who is currently living at camp came along. I was still in my green pajama pants from the night/morning before. I woke up and thought they’d be great for the day’s travel.

They could almost pass as those kinds of sweater-like outfits you see in the stores now. I think they look both pretty and cozy. It’s like a matching knit shirt and cozy looking pants set. I stayed in the car and gave the kids my debit card. Elianna knows the PIN. Before long they were back enjoying their blizzards and we drove home singing familiar songs. Before that the kids played volleyball outside and we ate supper at the table.

I’ve never seen her this excited about a man. My aunt, almost 70, has never been married, thought it hasn’t been for lack of chances. She’s been engaged twice. Once to a man who they were supposed to go and be missionaries somewhere. After their couple interview, an old man told her it’d be best if she didn’t marry him. He wouldn’t treat her well and she wouldn’t be happy. She took the advice to heart and never looked back.

Then there was Tim. They dated, were engaged and then were not engaged, and remained friends for a long time, but he was also an alcoholic which was why it didn’t work. There was always a reason, something wrong with whatever man had liked her or pursued her. When she was 33, she and Muggs walked the property of Grandma and Grandpa’s land. We followed them around as they decided the fate of their relationship.

It wasn’t to be. And it’s hard to wonder why when he went on to marry Janie who he was happily in love with and also had two children with. Even when I’d see him in pictures through the years I would wonder why it wasn’t him. They were childhood friends and had grown up together. What was there not to love? In our 20’s there was Carl from her church and he seemed nice. We asked, but she didn’t like him like that.

There were others. But one I’d never heard about was Tim from her high school class. About a month ago (tomorrow) he reached out to her over text and they’ve been talking ever since. They’ve talked on the phone and texted pictured. They haven’t yet Facetimed and I told her that was the next step. I can understand the hesitation but all it’s going to take is one time and she’ll be used to it. We could practice if she wanted.

We’re all just like, “Why not?” No one she’s told so far has raised any red flags. Grandma, of course, has been praying for her to find a husband for many years. And even I now feel car. She gave us all a little booklet that her pastor had written about marriage and the fruits of the Spirit (let us not become conceited, provoking one another…) All of us are married (me, my sisters, my parents). There are things to learn.

Mom reminded us girls that our awake time was early, and wisdom recommended sleep. We listened, said our goodbyes to Mom and Dad, and moved next door to our room. Our aunt followed us in, for there was more on her mind and of course we had to hear it. She has listened to us, prayed for us, been an aunt to us for all of these years. His long-time wife, gone almost a year, was a Methodist pastor. And we all said, “And??”

Not those exact words but that was the attitude. There are things as time goes on that seem like not as big of a deal as maybe they would’ve been five or ten or twenty years ago. Christian women can get worked up about the idea of following a man. He has to lead me, this is what the Bible says. Somewhere I’m sure it does, but following a man can be rejoicing in who he is, being happy with this person who has come into your life.

Yes there are other things to talk about and she will have to do that too. I’m looking forward to getting home and being again with my family. There was a team dinner, Dad preached, and Liz’s girls are supposed to wear yellow tomorrow for Yellow Day. But in the meantime we just took it in and shared in the stories, the journal entries from long ago, the gratitude notebook marked for nearly a year with T.C., meaning “Tim called”.

It was nice to wake up in New York State. We haven’t lived here in a long time but being in the area always feels very familiar. Grandpa used to talk about how flat and boring the Illinois landscape was when he would come to visit. He wasn’t a complainer so he wasn’t complaining, but he’d just lived in New York his whole life. Personally I’ve lived in Illinois long enough to call it home, but you still feel ties to the places you’ve loved.

Grandma’s place she’s staying is only minutes from the river. After visiting with her in the morning and spending some time while she ate her lunch, we found a place to eat nearby. We had a different hotel to check into for tonight and they let us check in early, so at 2PM. We had some chill time where the other girls talked about church stuff and one Facetimed back home. I laid down to hopefully nap and thankfully fell asleep.

The kids all had races. Ethan had one in South Dakota and the other kids were running in the GRIT run at camp. They made it a meet this year with several other Lutheran high schools. The girls ran first, then the boys, and then the open race like they normally have. I followed Ethan’s from the room since he was the one I could watch online. I was also watching the TeamReach app and seeing pictures from the races at camp.

After waking up we visited a lakeside park. Besides the river and the trees, these are not familiar areas for us. We lived about 45 minutes north from where we’re staying. So basically we explored for a while. There were young couples at the park as well as old ones. There were medium aged ones also out on the boats. Two guys were waterskiing and their significant others were in some other kind of boat I’ve never seen before.

After the park we walked on a bridge. It was called the Hudson River Walkway and went across the entire river. One of my sisters is 31 weeks pregnant and was not in a condition to be walking very much once we got to the bridge. We have arrangements with each other where the expectation is we all just have to voice our needs when we have them. She needed to not have to walk to the river so we went on ahead of her.

We told her we’d just get out to where we were over the river, take some pictures, and then come back. She was okay with that. When we reached a certain point we called her and had her turn around and start heading back to the start of the bridge. She wanted to walk just not that far. It would’ve been neat to walk across it but we also wanted to get back to our Grandma. We stayed and visited for the rest of the night with her.

It’s always very interesting to see the earth from up above. Our flight was just over 90 minutes long and went well. The captain introduced herself beforehand and started telling the story of how she began flying out of Albany. I’ve not flown a ton but I’ve never heard a captain tell us anything remotely personal before. I think it’s better when they don’t talk as much and just fly us.

Grandma was very excited to see us. We walked in and one of the aides was helping her dress and get settled. I’m pretty sure she’d forgotten we were coming. I know she knew because we live talked about it several times. But she was so surprised and started weeping tears of joy.

I joined her in the tears and my sisters and I gathered around her bed. We stayed for about an hour because all of us were very tired. We set up her room with the picture books and clock that had been sent along with her things. We sang a requested hymn. I like hymns but it was easier to sing them in public places as a child. She thanked God for the miracle of flying through the sky.

We’re all checked in for our flight tomorrow. I’m supposed to leave here early in the morning to drive up to my brother’s house where I’m meeting up with two of my sisters. From there we are driving into Chicago where our flight leaves from Midway in the early afternoon. Once arriving in Albany, New York, we rent a car and drive down toward Poughkeepsie where my grandma is staying for a week in an assisted living facility.

They have respite care through hospice which she’s been on for several years. There was some drama at one point where the family members are no longer allowed to visit at the house. If there is time Friday evening we’ll stop by to see her then before returning to the hotel and coming back in the morning to spend most of the day with her. Sunday we will have half the day before driving back through some old places.

I didn’t go to class tonight and told them I wouldn’t be there for internship Monday. Mom and Dad are driving over and meeting us there on Sunday night. I mentioned bringing swim attire in case we get a chance to swim at the hotels or find a hot tub. The laundry is in the dryer so when that’s done I’ll pack my clothes. There isn’t much I have to do because people here are pretty self-sufficient. I filled the van up on Wednesday.

I’ll come up with any dumb excuse I can think of to talk to him, anything that might be of possible interest or a point of connection. Actually I don’t do that as much anymore now, but I still catch myself doing it and filtering the occurrences. Last time it was when my so came home after running four miles in practice. He’d ran four miles. He (my son) told me, and once that conversation was over the first thing I wanted to do was tell him (my other son).

Even though I knew they’d probably talk about it later. “Judah ran four miles in practice today”, just out of the blue a text about that. It got me about two exchanges worth, and I considered that a success and a win. It could’ve waited. I didn’t have to say it. I could’ve just let them talk about it later. Tuesday night as I got into the minivan, I heard the vice-presidential debate beginning on the radio. Whose was this man’s voice so clear and well-spoken?

I had started to drive, backing out of my parking spot. I wouldn’t text, but I could call. But would I really? The calling part is a little weird, but I’ve done it. I still remember the days of phone calls where we tied up our parents’ line for hours on end. He told me his mother had asked “Do you love her?” We were trying to decide whether or not we did. I thought that was just a little bit much and nobody had to be thinking about those deeper things yet.

I decided not to call, but to check in later when I got home. I stopped at the street and picked up my phone to hit play. He’d sent a text, at 8:02, just then, “Vice presidential debate is happening now”. It wasn’t just me. I mean, it was, he didn’t send that text to his dad. And I was happy again because that’s what happens when he thinks of me, when I again get evidence that our connection was real, that he too associates those things with me.

“Dad, you never told me I was beautiful”. We were in the kitchen of the Hoytleton teacherage, with two small kids at the time. I’d been talking to mom about it and she went with me to say it. My wedding day. Any of those other stupid dances. Like, just, any time at all, did you ever think it? He stuttered for a while until he finally said, “uh, I mean, I think you’re a wonderful mother.” My mom and I looked at each other amused and shocked.

It’s fine. It really is. We put too much on our parents sometimes, expect too much or give them too much power. I used to long for his recognition, for him to see I was the most like him, his soulmate daughter. One time I put something on Facebook just slightly defending Barack Obama…And I deleted every picture and every post I’d made for months. My profile went blank which matched exactly how I felt. I could erase myself again.

Every so often there’s some worldly advice that makes a positive difference in my life. “Stop emotionally investing in people who aren’t choosing you.” In this particular case it had to do with my son, the power I was giving him to impact my emotions. This didn’t need to be rejection, it could just be space, that healthy separation that needed to happen between me and him. It feels like loss, and it is, but you also get to love them more this way.

They’ve been named “the hot mess group” and everyone (Dad and Elianna) knows what that means when I come home and talk about it. It’s the group with the “K-1-2” kids. There’s a women in my class who is actually going to school for just this age. It used to be two groups with the boys and girls separated, then I decided to try the K-1-2 kids all together to only have one group with those particular problems.

But another family moved in and more kids have come now. It’s too many to have altogether so we are back to one for boys and one for girls. The supervisor was fine with me ditching the K-1-2 groups but then I felt bad because they do seem to like and look forward to group. The others are calmer. One with preteen/younger teen girls, the one with older elementary girls, and the two kids I meet with individually. There was a preteen/younger teen boy group but I came back one weekend and one of the boys had unexpectedly moved.

The other one is supposed to move in the next two weeks. My heart felt sad and even now I could cry thinking about it with the stark realization that I am going to miss them, and already have when they moved. His sweet voice that hasn’t yet changed. His face that has already seen too much but what else? I gave him a notebook and a colored pen to pick out. The older girls got one too. I am out of time right now.

Well it wasn’t a med error, at least I don’t think so. I went in, got report, washed my hands, walked around, and worked up the nerve to open the orders and read what it said. It was ordered to be given monthly on the fourth Saturday of the month at 2000. I breathed a sigh of relief but that didn’t explain why the vial package label said once weekly on Mondays. I did not call pharmacy to get the story from their side.

You’re not supposed to alter pharmacy labels so I put a sticky note on the bag with the other instructions. Now I’m looking at my phone seeing that Saturday was the fifth Saturday, not the fourth, except I’m almost positive the order said to be given on the 29th which was why I was so relieved. This really is just crazy now, so I’m not going to go there and I’m letting this go. The shot did not pop up again Sunday night which means it wasn’t a reminder.

One woman asked if she should be evacuating. She said she was making plans with her husband except her husband has been dead for many years. I thought maybe she’d been hearing things about the hurricane except she can’t really hear and her TV is always turned on to movies or music. The two spouses whose significant others suffered strokes were there as almost always to feed their loved ones.

Many of the spouses live close by or in the independent living sections. One man comes and sits with his wife everyday. My husband is a cousin to his wife, first cousin once removed is what we officially found out after he looked it up to be sure. Illinois lost after whatever Big Ten game they were playing the day before. I could hear Trinity’s service replaying on the TV and he said to tell my husband he was a superstar now. We talked about the sermon.

The boys and I had the most boring day in social studies. After about ten pages we couldn’t get through the words without laughing about them. It’s like that sometimes, where you just have to get through the dates and the names. One kept pronouncing Plymouth the way it looks like you’d say it: Ply-Mouth. They thought I wouldn’t notice if we missed it today, which is very understandable, but I definitely always do.

On the way home from work I was struck with the thought, “Was that B12 shot supposed to be given today?”. And now this shot has been in my head ever since. My thought process in the moment went something like that like this:

“Oh crap, an IM shot.” IM means intramuscular. This has popped up only one other time that I remember and for some reason did not end up giving it. I dug around in his drawer and found the bag with the vial. I opened the bag and saw the instructions. “Gdksh sldhd ei shd on Mondays“. My next thought was not “Oh wait, that’s weird. It says Monday but today is Saturday. I better double check and see more what’s going on…” Instead I thought, “Oh wait, that’s weird. It says Monday but today is Saturday. I guess the days must’ve been switched, since it popped up on the MAR.”

And the MAR instructions are fuzzy too. I cannot tell you what I read other than something like Give slkd skdht edhel once weekly starting 09/dk/24. “Oh”, I thought when I saw the date, “this is something new since the last time I was here.”

The supervisor walked up while I was standing at the cart. She was checking on the halls to see how people were doing. “Good”, I said, “and also…” I’m looking in the med cart’s top shelf where the insulin needles are. I’m simultaneously trying to ask for help while demonstrating that I’m not completely incompetent or just wanting her to do it all. There’s a hall supply room where the needles might be…I check there first, but they weren’t in there. She actually had to take me to the main supply room to a locked cabinet where the 3cc needles are kept. I didn’t even know that existed.

I guess at the key. It’s got to be one of the little ones as she’s standing right next to me. I sound like I’m nervous and overthinking but I’m really just glad she’s there and can show me these things. We get the B12 liquid drawn up and she leaves.

I’ve given IM shots before. In school we had to do a flu shot clinic where we spent the whole day standing at a table giving strangers their shots. They came in with hope that these things would better keep them safe from some illness, and lifted up their sleeves in full faith that the person holding the needle was safe to be doing so. There have been other times here and there but I don’t like them because the needles are so long. It’s not bad when someone has a thick enough arm but not everyone does. This man still had muscle you could feel and I was impressed by it’s size.

But if he wasn’t supposed to get it until Monday then we have a problem. There was not even anything else going on. There was the woman in the slowly dying phase, but the night was calm, thank the Lord. If that was error #3 then I’m quitting.