As I lay upright on my hospital bed struggling to breathe the other night, I wondered if I might die. It was a curious thought devoid of any anxiety or dread. I was actually ok with it. And if I were going to die, I considered what I would want my last thoughts to be. I found that I was surrounded by gratitude and prayed through my list of cherished ones giving thanks for each one…

Then the air conditioning on my hospital floor stopped working. The temperature rose quickly. No overnight visitors were allowed and I was alone. I was too short of breath to get to the door and my fear stampeded into panic. I couldn’t breathe and cry at the same time and I became close to hysteria…my mind flying through options for relief. There were no thoughts of death then only a rocketing relief seeking intensity. I was on high alert with every fiber of my being.

The curious thing is though, that the panic actually opened my airways; that which I thought would be my complete undoing, was the thing that I needed most in that moment. 

After my breathing and the air conditioning were restored, I called my sister who read me the rest of the way into calm. 

I felt ridiculous and fragile but also grateful to be calmly grateful once again.

Anne

July 20, 2021

Hallelujah, Even Here
By Lydia Laird

Right now I feel a little overwhelmed
Right now I could really use some help
Right now I don’t feel like it is well with my soul
I’ve tried to find a way around the mess
I’ve prayed in faith that the night would end
Right here when I just can’t understand
I’ll lift my hands

Hallelujah, when the storm is relentless
Hallelujah, when the battle is endless
In the middle of the in between
In the middle of the questioning
Over every worry, every fear
Hallelujah, even here
Hallelujah, even here

Somehow I bow and my heart gets free
Too far, too hard becomes so easy
I find peace here in surrendering
In letting go
Sometimes nothing left to give
Ooh, becomes the sweetest offering
And sometimes choosing just to sing
Is the thing that changes everything

Hallelujah, when the storm is relentless
Hallelujah, when the battle is endless
In the middle of the in between
In the middle of the questioning
Over every worry, every fear
Hallelujah, even here
Hallelujah, even here
Hallelujah, even here
~~
So I arrived in Albuquerque. Pam, a gracious Phoenix friend who spends her summers in Albuquerque, picked me up and brought me to the boys. My cousin, Shane, met me and connected me with a mechanic for the morning.
The car is drivable but only slowly and with limited distance. The brakes are definitely calling out for help with every stop.
As we settled into another hotel, I went looking for a Walmart to buy dog supplies.
The nearest one turned out to be the very one I used to go to with Philip, right next to his Highland High School.
As I found my way there and back, I passed every known bittersweet connection to him. I was tired and feeling sick and the flash flood of memories proved more difficult than I anticipated. I turned on the radio to the very beginning of a song I have never heard before: the song above. Through my tears, as if Lydia Laird were right there next to me, we lifted our hands and pointed at each memory…”Even there, even there… hallelujah, even over there.”

Over there, his favorIte New Mexican restaurant, I wondered where that was; and even there he bought me my first bicycle shorts, before we were even married; and there, we walked the Old Town square; and there, we danced at some random festival, and there at his beloved Lotaburger and brewery and …

Hallelujah, when the storm is relentless
Hallelujah, when the battle is endless
In the middle of the in between
In the middle of the questioning
Over every worry, every fear
Hallelujah, even here…

Feeling the Double Grip,
Anne
July 25, 2021

John 16:33 NIV
“I have told you these things,
so that in Me you may have peace.
In this world you will have trouble.
But take heart!
I have overcome the world.”
❤️‍🩹, Jesus.

As I awaken to what may be a difficult day; as I keep my emotions at bay at the frustrations of unexpected air travel and battle my constant companions of headache and nausea, I wonder if my fragile self will accomplish all that concerns me today…

And then God sends me His Double grip reminder right at the point of my need. John 10: 27-29 I am in His double grip and He will accomplish ALL that concerns me today. 

And here I am sobbing in the airport, not because I have been overtaken by my weakness  but because I am being carried by the One Who makes me strong in it’s midst.

Being held,

Anne

July 25, 2021

As I turned left to begin the road towards  home from Sam’s house in Ohio, I ran into some unexpected delays and detours. I70 is a mess but it turns out that was not my biggest or hottest one. I reserved the title of hot mess for myself.

I started with bladder infection symptoms that evolved into kidney infection symptoms which are not responding to antibiotics. I’m a hospitalized puzzle. Every antibiotic they give, gives me a rash and that makes me an itchy puzzle (with or without a b.)

But how funny, I have Dr Phil as my infectious disease doc and she is infectiously delightful, refreshing and confidence building. 

Look at me! I seem to be building my character every step of the way through this spiteful year…

Anne

July 19, 2021

The clouds are deep and low, ominously meeting the lush greenness of the Illinois horizon. I love the silver green of sunlight on beans and the yellow green of the rolling crops, waving in the breeze. The light is just right and the colors are illuminated against the overcast sky.

The fields call to me from my driver’s seat. My heart is heavy, like the clouds, full of sorrow. The negativity of my past haunts me like a shadow I do not welcome.

I wait for the beauty to penetrate my depths. It is sometimes the only thing that keeps the sadness at bay especially since I don’t have window washers for my eyes if I were to rain while driving.

There are those who are concerned for me and my choices. I guess my truth is that I am only able to take one day at a time, interrupted occasionally with a spritz of hope in the future; often seeking to find joy in the journey when I can manage it. 

Today I find joy in the verdancy of the blowing yellow fields that softly brush the sky. 

Anne
July 1, 2021

The contentment of a day well spent with cool breezes, sunny skies and family. Of a day at last realized after a winter of pain, a welcomed respite even though it is charged with the memories of those not here.

I take joy, nonetheless, in the colors of nature, hair and skin and clothing;  reveling in the smiles and the laughter all around; the earth with its flowers and I with my boys.

We planned this trip last October as Sam was getting ready to move to Dayton. We planned a summer family trek to bring him the rest of his stuff and go to Cedar Point. Philip, Sam and Joe had made a trek there a couple summers ago and this seemed a perfect opportunity to go again.

I decided to go ahead and honor Philip with the boys by keeping the plans.

For me, as with so much, it is a bittersweet delight to carry them out. For the boys there seems to be no element of regret or heartache. 

The boys appear to see only joy filled memories. The ranch was full of him and now so is Ohio.

 “Steel Vengeance was Dad’s favorite roller coaster” one says with fondness.” “That BBQ place was so much better last time with Dad.”  ” Hey, remember that baseball field? You and Dad played while we waited for a hotel”; “With Dad, we all wanted real food so we found this Mexican Restaurant. It was great,” says another. 

We are full of Philip, of course, but theirs extends beyond what they have lost and into fond gratitude for all they have kept. This fills some of my vacant places.

It is a lesson I would do well to practice.

Anne

July 3, 2021

Cool, Lake Erie breezes, high soft clouds in a light blue sky, warming sun and an exquisitely perfect day for Cedar Point. The park has grown into a tree lined, rollercoaster paradise for both mother and sons.

As the sons fast pass their ways to shorter lines and fierce dedication to extreme fun, I stroll among the park gardens. The colorful smiles of the not so overwhelming numbers of passersby buoy my spirit infusing it with the kind of joy that comes from sharing the beauty of fun…The Valravn, The Millennium and Magnum Force, Steel Vengeance, the Rougarou, the Dragster and my beloved Corkscrew and Blue Streak of yesteryear. In the heat of the day, I share a frozen vodka lemonade with my son in the shade of the saloon while we wait for the stories from our own epic thrill seekers.

When I can hold my companions off no longer, I join them on the Millennium Force. “Just hold your head up and it won’t bother your neck” one thoughtful son tells me. As I slam my eyes shut, I brace myself with both feet and hands. Tightly grasping the yellow bar in front of me, the ride begins. Upward we soar 310 FT. in the air before we plummet @93mph. I think of Philip speed skiing at the 1992 Olympic trials at the same or faster speed. The thought helps me negotiate the somersaults my stomach is taking though I am surprised I am not as intolerant of them as I anticipated I would be. All in all I am pleased with the state of my being as we de-coaster. I could do that again, I think…but there is no longer anything to say I should.

Gloriously fine weather and company, fun has been had by all as it shines from our faces. On our second day, we are slowed only by our weary feet. They are seemingly unaware of our indomitable spirits ready for the next big thing… which we all agree should be a nap.

Anne
July, 2021

There’s a scene in one of the Jurassic Park movies where the characters are in their car and are thrown into a tree by the T-Rex. They begin to climb down the tree and are almost out of the car when the car dislodges and falls down on them. The boy then says, ” I guess we’re back in the car again.” I think of that scene often these days. It’s a picture of grief for me: just when I think the onslaught is over and I can rest in safety, the T-Rex awakens and I find myself back in the car… again.

I got my jaw injected today. I’ve been grinding my teeth for months now and my jaw finally had enough as it once did in 2015. It causes quite possibly my most intense physical pain to date, second only to natural childbirth. It doesn’t last long but it sure does pierce my weary soul and unleashing the tears of pain unleashes it all.

I thought I might drown in the sorrow today until a friend unwittingly changed the direction of the car.
She simply hoped that the shot would be worth the price of the pain… Her words made me realize that hope is always worth the price because Jesus is my only true hope. He knows a thing or two about soul wrenching pain… and about hope.
Thank God that He’s sitting right beside me in the car, again and again, or I would be truly lost, indeed.

Anne
June 23, 2021

My spirit has gone dormant. I sent two sons on a cross country trip to St Louis where one will stay for the summer. I was all alone in my house. I managed to get a scrapbook done but I did a little else.
It seems I have little to say, less to feel and naps to take.
In the stages of grief, I think I started with shock and numbness, did a bit of acceptance moving into anger and now am blank. It is a curious process with all it’s layers; such a stinky onion of a thing.

Still connected to life on some days with the endless projects of putting an absent life into order but then on other days simply sitting blankly. With the heat of summer coming on, I sometimes feel a bit like a dried up old rag crackling in the sun.

I go to the Superior Court today to prove for Social Security that I was married. To do that I have to prove who I was before I was married, ironic really because I have no idea who I am now that I find myself unmarried once again.

Anne
June 2, 2021