From my Mae...

TO OUR BELOVED

It singeth low in every heart,
We heart it, each and all—
A song of those who answer not,
However we may call;
They throng the silence of the breast,
We see them as of yore—
The kind, the brave, the true, the sweet,
Who walk with us no more.

It’s hard to take the burden up
When these have laid it down;
They brightened all the joy of life,
They softened every frown;
But oh, it’s good to think of them
When we are troubled sore!
Thanks be to God that such have been,
Though they are here no more.

More homelike seems the vast unknown
Since they have entered there;
To follow them is not so hard,
Wherever they may fare;
They cannot be where God is not,
On any sea or shore;
Whate’er betides, Thy love abides,
Our God, for evermore.
~John White Chadwick

Leaning Hard

Dad scanned Mom's obit on Sunday and made a few copies. I never thought I'd be the one to have to write it. I think I thought that kind of thing "just gets done." Like growing up, my clothes just reappeared all clean and folded in my dresser without me ever having to do anything but wear them. Someone you love leaves this earth, and a little ditty magically appears in the paper. But I got it done with His great grace and very little pain.

I'm experiencing that right now--a total immersion in His felt presence. He's closer than my breath, and He is literally my strength and endurance. I am NOT an organizer. The thought of what has to be accomplished by Saturday is daunting, and I burst into tears when I realized how much needs to be done. He reminded me that 1) I do best with small raised beds, so don't future trip and take in the whole week as one titanic chunk; and 2) I asked Him to do the driving, and He is doing just that. I only start to sink when I take my eyes off Him. I keep asking Okay, what do we do next? This is leaning hard and resting well.

Prayers are going up for us all, and I know that's why we're doing so well. Even Jylle said she's doing better than she thought she would, and that makes her happy. My mom always told her not to cry when she goes, so she's tried really hard to honor that. Doesn't mean she's still not feeling the intensity of her loss, but at a time like this, any little thing that helps is perfectly okay.

Death certificates arrived. The PowerPoint is coming along. The flowers are ordered. Dad's delivering Mom's Bible to Pastor Dale today. The check marks are encouraging. "My God is humongous." Yes, My Mom, He is.

Sprint Week

There's so much to do. I've never planned a memorial service before. I still have to pick out music, select flower arrangements, help with the PowerPoint, meet my dad at the bank to sign financial papers, cancel some credit cards, and notify family friends. I want to balance this responsibility with being here for my own little family.

I know people are praying for us, and that makes me know why we're doing as well as we are. Dad is better today, but he still can't talk to people about her. At least his meltdown yesterday morning was helpful. I knew it would be, and I'm glad he's well enough to be on his own now.

You are providing deep grace for deep need, and we are so very, very thankful. Help me this week, Lord. I need You like crazy. And if You could heal my cell phone, I'd really appreciate it. Give Mom a hug for me, and tell her I'm sorry I couldn't do what she asked about her secret stash. I'm sure she won't mind now. XO

Readings and Ravings

The responsibility for writing and arranging for the obituary for Mom somehow fell to me. I looked at several examples and finally finished it on Saturday. I picked out the picture and cropped it, emailed it, and all that was left was to have the proof okayed for the newspaper, which Alan took care of for me since I was on my way back home.

Dad said he had the closest thing to a meltdown this morning when he opened the paper to find it. He found it, saw her beautiful face, and it was all over. This will be so good for him though. The healing that will come from it will be worth the tsunami. I love this quote from Doe: A crushing hurt comes to our heart and the sympathizing, scarred hand of Christ presses the wound; and just for a moment, the pain seems to intensify... but finally the bleeding stops. ~Beth Moore

my sweet mama

My mom fell and hurt her back this winter. She's been in terrible pain and has had to wear a brace when the pain gets extreme. She damaged a vertebrae, and when she went in to have the damage repaired, her doctor noticed an abnormality in her blood. He immediately referred her to a cancer specialist and sent her a letter stating that based on the increased plasma cells found in the vertebral biopsy, he suspected a cancer of the plasma. I'm waiting now to hear which kind she has--multiple myeloma or plasmacytoma. I'm finding conflicting reports online as to which is the more serious.

My dad is a fairly calm person, not prone to worry or overreaction, so I can see why he wasn't too excited about this news. My mom is another story, however. As soon as we got to their house, she came up to me and whispered, "Cyndi, I think I have cancer in my blood." Not having any information one way or the other, all I could do was ask questions and pray for her.

I don't know if it's His protecting hand on me that I'm not freaking out about this, or if it's that all my life, my mom has always had something serious going on with her body. She's had something like 20+ surgeries, and there's literally always been something wrong with her body. It's why I've referred for years to her 'mediocre health.' I'll just wait and see what the results show before I decide whether or not to schedule a meltdown. That's what I did back when my dad had colon cancer. After I called Cheryl.

my Asian mom

She just does not play nicely with others... Look at the poor boy--he's bracing himself.

I think she's whispering some threat...

See?

My mom is a positively wonder-full blend of adjectives: exotic, in-your-face, generous, physical, big-hearted, unpredictable... My kids know that, and they love her. She loves to kid around, and they let her "attack" them. All in good fun. I don't know if I have the most typical of Asian moms, but I have the best one for me!

my wonderful mom-in-law

Here we are on Mercer Island, and it’s gone so fast—as usual. Mom is the most amazing person. She seems to take no notice of how her backyard neighbor obstructed her view for the longest time by letting his vegetation grow untamed after they'd enjoyed the lights of the bridge and Seattle for so many years. Now he's planted arborvitae which will grow and be just as tall, only now as a whole wall instead of one apple tree and some other junk. Get this--she wanted the nicer part of her fence that Kev was repairing to face the neighbor's direction instead of having it face her. She's just like that. Even when we passed those tired, dying arborvitae near the thrift store and I said half-heartedly, “That’s what I want to happen to the ones behind your fence that belong to that neighbor,” she just smiled and looked amused. She is the most darling woman. I just want to do that Spock mind meld, only with the heart, and I want to absorb her character and faith, not just see it. She is one of my heroes.

Thank You for her, Lord. You are the most generous-hearted and perfect-natured Father. You bless us over and over with her life, ever poised toward Your heart and character.

ring

My mom gave me a diamond solitaire ring for Christmas. I’m still not used to how it feels on my hand, so I touch it a lot, adjusting it, shifting it left and right and straight up again. When I clap my hands in applause, it moves. When I type, it moves. It makes itself remembered with almost every movement of my hand. It’s like it’s the ring’s way of talking. But I don’t know what it’s trying to say.

My mom had this goal for years to give me this ring. She would say, “I’m going to get you a one-carat diamond ring someday.” I’d ask her why, and her response was always the same: “It’s the one thing I can leave you as a legacy.” It’s a long story of how I actually came to be wearing it, so I’ll leave that for another telling. For now, my point is that I don’t need, and indeed never wanted, a ring for a legacy. I appreciate and fully acknowledge her desire to leave something valuable and lasting as a tangible reminder of her life and love. But it is that very desire—that most intangible thing—that I crown as her legacy. It is her constant, consistent proffering of her love to me that is a gift no pile of money nor zeros before the decimal can touch.

A friend asked me about the ring yesterday, and it’s always with a touch of bittersweetness that I speak of it. I wish my mom could be convinced of her perdurable worth to me even if she were a penniless, wizened, old soul with no name. I don’t bring that up though. I just say it was a Christmas gift from my mom.

Just minutes after presenting the ring to me, she cautioned me to keep the paperwork in a safe place because when she saves up enough money again, she can give back this ring to the store in trade for a two-carat.

Oy.

right finger--wrong hand

Mom was like a child, sitting there neck deep in agitated excitement. She was finally in the moment she’d been working toward for years—she was giving me my ring. Dad wrapped it like he did another gift for me years ago: a box inside a box inside a box, ad infinitum. I finally got to the little white box at the creamy center and opened it. “Do you like it?” was her small but oh so interested query. I responded in kind, “It’s beautiful.”

I started to put it on the ring finger of my right hand, and she said, “It goes here,” and pointed to the left hand ring finger. “That’s my wedding finger.” She continued. “Yeah, that’s where it goes.” Instantly uncomfortable, I slipped off my wedding ring and put on the new guy. I put my wedding ring back on after it. It looked stupid, awkward, unpleasant. Wait—that’s how I felt. It really did look dumb though, like picturing Queen Elizabeth in a gorilla suit—some things are just wrong. The alternative was to wear this ring instead of the other one. That is just not an option though. I had to explain as gently as possible that this was my wedding ring, and I couldn’t not wear Kevin’s ring. This finger is for his ring, my ring, our ring.

The fact that it fit that digit and not the other one was a problem because she’d had it sized down just for that finger. She was deflated. “I’m sorry you’re disappointed. I messed it up. I never get anything right…” Oh no, she’s going there. Mom, please don’t go there. Just took another half hour of being optimistic and extremely pleasant and verbose about my gratitude, and we were back on track. I’ll just take it back and get it sized back up. Just make sure to go to the same saleslady “because the rest of them there are back stabbers. Make sure you go to Marjorie, nobody else.”

Wouldn’t you know it—Marjorie’s not working that day I find out when I stop on my way home. Maybe I can come back next week. Or the next. Or the next after that. After two weeks instead of the four days she said it would take, I call to see if it’s in. No, not in. I get a call from Marjorie much later, and she explains that she wrote down my phone number wrong and had to call Mom to get it. Bummer, now Mom knows it’s taken this long… She never commented though, come to think of it.

Almost a month after the day she gave it to me, I can finally wear this ring. Every glimpse of it reminds me of her tremendous love for me. Your heart’s always in the right place, my Mom. And now my ring is, too. Thank you from the bottom of my soul. XO

Christmas 2007

There were 11 of us for Christmas dinner, more than we've had in years. Alan came with Wayneen, his fiancé, and Hannah, who was only here for a few days from her new home in Boise and enjoying her break from three jobs. With Kev's mom here, my folks coming, and Brett home for almost three weeks, it was going to be so much fun to have everyone here.

I made overnight caramel pull-aparts, but I totally forgot to hide the baby Jesus in foil for someone to find! Winner gets to put Him in His manger. Oh well, no one remembered to even take Him out of the manger for Christmas morning. Our traditions are loosey goosey. It's more traditional for us to say, "Oh, yeeaahhh..."

We opened presents, and Jylle was our disburser. We each take a turn so that we can pay attention to who got what from whom. Kev's mom is the most gracious receiver I've ever known. She always makes you feel like you've just given her the very thing she'd been wanting all year. So much love and consideration.

I called a friend I hadn't talked to in months and got an earful. She's gone ahead and consented to a relationship with a married man. She's been quiet on her side because she didn't know if I even wanted to hear what's going on in her life nowadays. But I can't be gotten rid of that easily. She knows what she's doing is wrong. I know what she's doing is wrong, and she knows that I know that. We weren't done talking, but Alan's team arrived. Still on the phone, I opened the door for him and his overladen arms, then went back in my bathroom to finish up and say goodbye. Two minutes later, Kev came in and motioned impatiently for me to come out. I tried, but he came back in a minute later, saying "We need you. We need a buffer."

From here on out, this is the journaling I do to make sense of things that bug me and just to let it out. It's far too long, but this is how things have to come out sometimes.

When I came out I knew something was wrong. Hannah was sitting on the couch plugged into her iPod. Kev pulled me aside explaining, "Your mom said something to Hannah, and she didn't take it well. She said, 'Hi, Jeslyn.' She meant it as a joke, but Hannah didn't take it that way, and it didn't go over well. Now Hannah's hurt, and we need you.' " I woodenly walked over to Wayneen to say hi. She was squatting next to my mom saying her own hello, and as soon as she looked at me she asked, "Are you okay?" I couldn't stand it. Tears ambushed me, and I couldn't stay. I mumbled a weak No, did a 180 and started tackling the dishes in the sink. When I could not get a handle on my emotions, I went out to the garage and sobbed. I saw Hannah through the garage window out with the horses. She stood there and petted Howdy, and I was immediately 16 again, petting my own horse, my own silent therapy in times of personal crisis. It took a minute, but I was able to go back in and pretend nothing happened.

Brett was the first to meet me in the kitchen, and he started telling me something. But when he looked me in the face, he said, "Your eyes are all glassy....." I just smiled a cardboard smile. "What's the matter?" I said I didn't want to talk about it, I just wanted him to keep talking. That seemed to startle him, but he continued.

At dinner, Mom asked Hannah a couple of questions about school and work, and Hannah politely answered but without ever looking at her. I sat between Hannah and Dad, and I noticed that Dad seemed a little more amused than usual at Hannah's conversation, as if to try to let her know that he was interested in her and didn't want to be categorized with Mom.

Lord knows I love that girl. She has a naturally loud laugh like her mama, and she was completely herself at the dinner table, and then again when she was doing dishes. I rinsed and dried while she talked and laughed, all loudly but innocently. Alan finally asked her to take it down a notch, which completely shut her down. Her countenance turned to stone, and she clammed up. I tried to engage her further, but her replies were the distracted kind we give when something hurts inside. Alan told me later that it was a lose-lose situation. Hannah is loud, and that’s how she is. She hurts Mom’s ears because of Mom’s hearing aid. But what happens when you ask a laughing person to take it down a notch—they stop laughing altogether. Hannah’s hurt, and Alan gets the blame for her humiliation.

Aaaarrrrrggghhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!

SOOooo...... other than those two episodes, the rest of Christmas Day was just swell!

Just like on Thanksgiving, we didn't take one picture. Bummer! Just like it could've been our last holiday with Jeslyn for a long time at Thanksgiving, this could've been our last holiday with Hannah for a long time. Somehow though, going pictureless this time isn't the too-bad that Thanksgiving was.

O Lord, we WILL all get along splendidly one day. I wish it could've happened on the day we celebrate as Your birthday, but I know it WILL happen one day. No more fights, no more misunderstandings, no more offense, pettiness, OCD, snarling, meanness, and smallness of spirit. Only You and the All that You are. Till then, Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday. XO

~2 Cor. 9:15

what I like

• having my family home and I'm in the kitchen baking
• getting to stay in on a stupidly cold day
• Ya-Ya time
• drop-in friends who take me out to dinner
• savoring a warm book
• how my dogs love me no matter what
• Grace
• the color of my cat's eyes
• when my family likes what I made
• a bargain wardrobe
• salmon-colored roses
• milk chocolate when it's bendy but not melting
• a full yellow jacket trap
• thinking of better days for Jewelee
• imagining Jamara having a good day
• justice
• but I like mercy more
• my daughter's auburn hair
• an honest answer
• Napoleons
• novel arrangement of words
• buffet pants
• when Kathy is content and appreciated
• father-bride dances
• seeing something familiar in a new light
• baby belly laughs
• the smell of rain on a hot sidewalk
• knowing I encouraged someone
• one wrinkled hand in wrinkled hand
• real butter
• gel pens
• clear pictures of my kids' faces
• Jylle's exuberance
  
• quiet kindness
• campfires
• Jewelee's sense of humor
  
• Glenice's heart
• Rosie-isms
  
• Tina's face when she's thinking out loud and planning something fun
• lovin' on Chelsea
• Cheryl's excitement
• Kim's love for me
  
• the color of Jeannie's eyes
• good manners
• the first heavy snowfall
• the first warm spring day
• croissants
• vibrant color
• shiny things--even fishing lures keep me busy
• pumpkin pie with Breyer's vanilla ice cream for breakfast
• getting a card with a picture in it and something handwritten
• Brett's one-liners
• homemade soap
• being able to give spontaneously
• Josiah
• Stephanie's singing
• the smell of cut grass
• getting facebook & myspace messages
• magenta
• my mom's laugh
• kidding with my dad
• seeing Alan's joyfulness
• knowing Jeny's such a beautiful person
• French silk pie
• seeing my kids run
• capturing a good picture
• loping on my horse
• saying "fluffles"
• mandarin oranges, sweet watermelon, and crisp grapes
  
• Ryrie's "dumb" voice
• handmade quilts
• when I hear Your voice and really listen
• family movie night
• watching one of her brothers patiently teach Jylle something
• Annie's blog
• mexi-fries
• intimate moments
• sunrise in my back yard
• sunset in my front yard
• watching my kids tube
• watching my Kevin water ski
• chenille gloves
• See's chocolate-chocolate butter creams
  
• my front porch swing
• Shasta daisy plants
• happy endings
• Kev's excitement about deer & elk
• when my kids do stuff without being told
• unexpected kindness
• helpful neighbors
• clean comedy
  
• the word "sugarplum"
  
• steelies (maybe I should include this in shiny things...)
  
• making someone laugh
• nice comments
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