Sunday, March 17, 2013


Some people have the gift of hope.

The gift to take the evidence seen, the allure of bad faith and the seduction of despair, and to staunchly, even perhaps unrealistically, but ever so fervently seek unto hope.

May these people live in your days and bring you grace after grace.

Saturday, March 16, 2013

Time Shall Unfold What Plighted Cunning Hides

You know the sentiment that the journey is the worthier part of the experience and the destination is only the result?

Yeah, that's kind of crap.

I think people tend to say that when the journey is a sheltered, clearly marked path through a picturesque forest full of fluffy bunnies and chirping birdsong. It's like saying life won't give you more than you can handle. Of course it will; to say otherwise is a way we buck our selves up in the long, dark teatime of the soul.

The journey is hard and fraught with danger and unpleasant realizations about yourself and the ones you love and, if you're very fortunate and life hasn't given you more than you can handle, then you will justify the means to the end and there will eventually be an end.

But it doesn't make sense to me to romanticize the journey while you're living it and every damn day is a struggle to see to the horizon.

I made an important decision about my journey this week, which is namely that I've got more than I can handle and more than my family and friends can support me with. If I am going to be the person I want to claim, then I have to act in that person's best interest.

I love my family and I love my kids and I want to be better with them, but what I really want is the bit of me back that I want to claim and that I know. I have buried her under this tumult of crisis and emotion and I need her to come back and lead the dance.

Saturday, March 09, 2013

In which Obamacare begins to look like a Hail Mary

What the f---?

So mom was discharged yesterday to go home. She seemed stronger, although by no means perfectly well, so this was good but a step in the process, blah, blah, blah.

Today she is headed back to the hospital. The social worker assigned to follow-up in the home today came in and said, no, she was wrongfully discharged and that this is not a safe environment for her ability level and she needs to go to the hospital this weekend so that on Monday she can go back into rehab and continue with therapy.

I am trying to look at this as part of the journey for my parents to understand that this is necessary (i.e. she really wasn't ready to be home last night) and not trying to focused on how seriously screwed up this is. I am trying to focus on being grateful for the social worker that is pulling the plug at this point, instead of having to be grateful for the orthopedic surgeon that undoubtedly would have been repairing mom's broken bones eventually had we continued on with this.

I have no control.

I think I might go make bread.

Friday, March 01, 2013

Chasing the Rabbit down the rabbithole

So, snow.

With all the snow that we've had lately, and the treacherous conditions of the roads, and the puking children (yes, you read that correctly), I have not been out to see my mom or been out to my dad's house in well over a week.

And, it feels awesome.

Instead, we had dinner with friends last weekend (sweet!) and I got to go see my other friend and listen to her brand new baby be less than happy that momma had company (it was probably because I didn't bring him a hazelnut latte, too) and I just spend lots of time at home with the kids, playing Skyrim, reading books, shoveling snow, and working on the new online catalog for work that we're rolling out in July.

And I absolutely did not miss trying to be in two places at once, physically and mentally.

So, now, there's no snow (or at least there's less snow).

And my mom has been given a go-home date of March 8.

And my dad is starting to freak out be weighed down by the huge responsibility of taking care of mom and the drain that it is going to be emotionally, physically, and financially. And, to be perfectly honest, I think he doesn't want to be dealing with it. On that, we completely agree: neither of us really want to be doing this.

And it's heart rending and it makes me feel such an overwhelming surge of compassion ... and I just have to stop myself right there because down that way, madness lies. And probably some self-medication with red wine.

I have to not make this my thing. This is not my mess. This is the product of 30-40 years of living in a certain way and I could never have changed that then and I certainly can't change that now. Tomorrow we are to go out to see mom and then go to dad's and I am to continue on the somewhat gargantuan task of cleaning their house. It is in that scary, pack-ratty place that so many people get to. The reality is, if my parents want to see my family, they have to be able to have us to their house and without this intervention, that is not going to happen.

But, now that we have this March 8th deadline, I actually feel a bit more realistic about what I will accomplish. Mostly, I am going to have to continue to plug on and I'm going to have to manage it while constantly being questioned about what I'm doing and why. And, perhaps more importantly, I'm going to have resist the urge to respond, "because you people are a mess and you're weird, you are!"

Oh, Zod give me strength.