by Sharon O | Mar 22, 2012 | Uncategorized
The reason I posted the last message was to remind us
that often times when stress or tension happens we will react sometimes in a way that is not ‘our normal’ behavior.
Especially if we are tired or we are having a bad ‘internal’ day.
When I saw that little quote it seemed like a good idea to remind us all to be careful and compassionate to those who we are close to.
How many times have we had a ‘moment’ with kids in the car or our spouse and then when we walk into church or another public place we act ‘as if nothing was going on’ 5 minutes earlier.
Someone could say, “Hey how you doing?” and instead of saying
“well not so good” we usually do the polite thing and say we are fine.
Fine is not an answer.
Fine is keeping the truth away.
Fine is perhaps pretending.
Let us remember to hold close those who we care for and be kind to each other.
We don’t realize how important it is for time is a gift for us and
we don’t know when it will be taken away.
I am not saying this for any reason other than as a reminder.
Your loved ones are more important then ‘the neighbors next door or who you work with’.
REMEMBER:
Kindness begins at home.
Ephesians 4:32
32 Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.
Today’s New International Version
by Sharon O | Mar 21, 2012 | Uncategorized
“It is easy to smile at people outside your own home.
It is easy to take care of people that you don’t know well.
It is difficult to be thoughtful and kind and to smile and be loving to your own in the house day after day, especially when we are tired and in a bad temper or in a bad mood,
we all have those moments and that is the time that Christ comes to us in a distressing disguise.”
Mother Theresa
This is something to think about…today.
{photo by Larry O}
by Sharon O | Mar 19, 2012 | Uncategorized
The three of us walked into the room and saw him sitting there
resting in his chair with oxygen tubes pumping much needed air into lungs that can’t do their job anymore.
He looked up at me and said, “you’re looking good girl”.
I said back to him, “you are looking good too”.
Thinking that he didn’t look as sick as he really was.
(later my husband said his eyes lit up when I walked into the room)
I stood by his chair for a few minutes then decided to sit on a 4 wheeled walker with hand held brakes that had a height that made me sit with my toes barely touching the floor.
He reached over and made sure the brakes were down so I wouldn’t slip off.
A gesture of kindness I appreciated even from his weakened condition.
At first there were four of us chatting
attempting to get beyond ‘the how are you feeling’ questions.
Then with concentrated effort his jokes began and we chuckled at a few of his choice words.
Humor is always his way of making a moment happen without getting near ‘matters of the heart’.
Relationships are hard for him.
Matters of the heart not easy or normal.
They are mostly caught through a glimpse of his brown eyes and
words
not spoken
or through the moments of silence between those who are sitting in the room with him
along with the muted western tv show on a mid sized screen.
It is the way he is while he waits for this season of life to be over.
We knew he would be tired before we arrived as he had a long morning visiting others.
Fatigue is an enemy when one is very sick.
A failing body doesn’t always give room for moments of grace.
I watched him as he visited with us.
His eyes showing the strain of life leaving and the wrinkles on his face seemed deeper.
His aging hands rested near his chair or lap seemed like they wanted something to do
but could no longer do it.
He drank his container of ensure slowly and
we noticed his legs once filled out now rest in loosely fitted jeans.
His arms showing days of not eating well and his hands are thinning and bruised.
Leukemia and old age are not good combinations for someone who is trying to hold on.
Copd does not help either as the lungs cannot distribute air that should be clean and clear.
The inhaler is just a small help these days.
The oxygen is a comfort and blessing turned up to a higher dose.
His voice now a ‘laryngitis whisper’
sometimes even hard to hear from a good ears perspective.
He concentrated on every word pausing at times to gather strength
or thought.
I will remember it as sweet and endearing time.
When we left I saw his eyes tired and weary.
As I was hugging him and the warmth of his sweater I thought to myself he needed a new shirt on.
Isn’t it funny what we think when we are in the presence of someone very ill.
It took concentrated effort for him to say goodbye.
He was tired and our leaving would bring a time of rest for him at least for a short time without interruption.
It was a good visit with this man we call dad.
by Sharon O | Mar 18, 2012 | Uncategorized
A gate my dad made in Pistol River
A symbol of history
A remembrance of lives lived and hearts who loved
A work of labor from a man choosing to give
A work from his hands to complete
A pioneer cemetery representing stories of pioneers who have gone before now resting in
A place of peace.
Joining Deidra from jumping tandem on Sundays
by Sharon O | Mar 13, 2012 | Uncategorized
Out of blackened steel he formed his name written from a heart that opened towards a daughter.
I told him I loved angels and roses and he decided roses would fit nicely framed inside the iron work.
He came over one afternoon and attached it to the walkway between our courtyard and back yard.
It was a wonderful addition to our home and I will always make a special place for it wherever we live.
My older sister also received one a few years before he made mine.
Her gate has a large heart framed inside it as a symbol of the special love shared between them.
They are gifts from a dad to his daughters.
I have saved in keepsake boxes a few handwritten letters and notes and perhaps a card or two from him.
There are a few pictures and an audio tape of him talking with our grandmother that I will need to sit down and listen to.
Each memory treasured and stored and it will take time for me to process it all. Perhaps they need to be put in one special box labeled “things from dad” so I will know where to find them when I want to sit down and remember him.
Years ago he gave me a small rocking horse he made out of wood with legs that click back and forth when it is in rocking motion.
I also have a welcome sign outside my front door.
It is a bit rustic looking because of weather and wind but it has his stetson cowboy hat emblem on it and barbed wire representing the farm life he learned to love.
In his younger years he was one of the top auctioneers at the county fairs and he was also a top of the line sheep shearer. It has been said that could shear up to 300 sheep a day winning many awards in the process.
His name was well known in many locations where he had visited or lived. Those who knew him had good things to say about him.
For many years he also did farm work and cattle ranching for others. If you met him you would always find him dressed in blue jeans with a big belt buckle, western shirts, and cowboy boots.
These are just a few memories shared as I begin to process
his ‘time of leaving’. I don’t know how to feel yet.
Grief comes in and walks with me and then it steps back allowing me space to think.
I don’t know what a daughter should do at a time like this
perhaps all I can do is pray.
Words are not easy for me and certainly can’t comfort the one who is struggling for every breath.
It is hard to watch something I have watched before.
The independence moving away from the person who is ill and the dependence playing a much needed role.
My heart wishes I don’t have to go through this one more time but the reality tells me ‘it is true’ and we must.
When my mom in law was on hospice every day it was a deep loss and a sad vision as we watched the person we loved ‘fading from us’.
For now I will enjoy the memories of gifts given and hold into my heart a hope and a prayer that dad is comfortable and at peace when he breathes his last breath.
Gifts given from a heart that opened will always be treasures to hold onto as I continue to remember this man we call dad.
