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When Your Husband Hunts Out of State

4 Oct

About a year and a half ago, I posted the saga of the most horrible week of my pregnancy with Annabelle, which happened while Travis was traveling for work. There was another saga that happened about a year ago while Travis was hunting out of state, which I never told on the blog. Until now.

img_1156It was October, aka the beginning of hunting season. Travis and most of his family had gone elk hunting in Colorado for a week. The girls and I had stayed back, since having a 2.5-year-old and a 6-month-old in a wall tent for a week would be an extreme form of torture. We had just been up to Bemidji to visit Travis’ sister, Carolyn, who had also opted to not go elk hunting. After a long day of driving (two hours both ways), shopping at Hobby Lobby for bridal shower decorations, and eating dinner at Applebee’s (during which Emma spilled her entire water all over me and Annabelle swiftly knocked her full container of yogurt to the ground), the girls and I were heading back home in the dark.

Everything was going fine. I was staying awake, the girls were content… oh and did I mention that I had the dogs along too? They had spent the day socializing with Carolyn’s two dogs, and were worn out too.

But then Annabelle started crying.

And she kept crying.

We were almost an hour from home, and in the middle of NOWHERE driving on a two-lane highway with no shoulders at night on a Sunday. The nearest gas station was 30 minutes away. Travis’ parents lived only about 15 minutes away, but in the opposite direction as our house and they were in Colorado with Travis.

I hoped Annabelle would stop crying on her own… but five minutes passed. Then 10. Which doesn’t sound like much but when your baby is screaming in the backseat, it feels like an ETERNITY. I started looking for places to pull over, thinking maybe if I just nursed her a bit, she’d be content enough to make it home without crying the whole way.

But it was pitch black outside so I couldn’t see any of the pull-outs soon enough to slow down for them. Finally, I saw a sign for an intersection with a county road. Perfect. I’d be able to drive slow enough on that road to find a spot to pull over.

I turned down the county road and there was a wide grassy shoulder that seemed to be pretty level and even. It didn’t seem to be a road that had much traffic on it, so a ways from the highway intersection, I started slowing down and pulled over onto the grass.

WHAM!

I didn’t understand what had happened right away because it was so unexpected. All I heard was a loud noise and saw that my car was all of a sudden at a very odd angle and I was looking at what looked like corn stalks out my windshield.

Panic surged through me, but I couldn’t panic because I was the lone adult with two kids and two dogs out in the middle of NOWHERE. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” I started repeating. My hands were shaking as I started trying to think logically about what was happening.

My car has fallen in some kind of a hole. My first idea was to try to back the car out. I put the car in reverse and gunned it a little, but the only effect was to make my car lean over even more precariously, and make me panic even more about completely tipping over into the field.

Ok, Plan B. I would call a towtruck. Where’s my phone? Where’s my phone? Oh yeah, Emma’s playing games on it. I pleaded with her to give it back to me. She probably heard the fear in my voice because she didn’t fight me on it.

Then I realized, It’s late on a Sunday night and I’m in the middle of EFFIN NOWHERE! Who is going to help me at this hour? No one local, that’s for sure. My brain was scrambling and all I could think was, What’s that acronym for car assistance? AARP? That doesn’t sound right... I googled “car towing” and discovered, Oh yeah, AAA. But when I tried calling the 800 number, it assumed I was in Colorado because of my cell phone number, and I didn’t have the mental wherewithal to figure out how to switch it. So screw that.

Plan C. Call Travis. Maybe he could help me think because now I was on the verge of tears and FREAKING OUT. But Travis didn’t answer. Dangit! I can’t call my parents because my mom will freak out even more than I am. Who else is with Travis? My mother-in-law Beth. She didn’t answer either. Double dangit! I called my brother-in-law Matthew. He answered. FINALLY! I tried to sound somewhat normal as I asked to talk to Travis. When Travis got on the line, though, I completely lost it. I started crying and babbling on about how I drove off the road and fell in a hole and couldn’t get out and I was so scared and I was in the MIDDLE OF NOWHERE.

Travis’ first words back to me were, “Are the girls still alive?”

Ok, maybe I should’ve led with that. “Yes, they are. We’re all fine.”

As I was talking with Travis, I decided that I should probably get out of the car to see what was really going on. I discovered that my front passenger tire fell in a hole up to the bumper, and my rear driver side tire was completely off the road by about 18 inches.

Holy crap.

I’m sure I told Travis what I was seeing. I’m sure he suggested calling a towtruck or something along those lines. But after being on the phone with Travis not even five minutes, a man driving a pickup truck happened to turn down the county road I was on. Not only did he not hit me even though I was standing in the middle of the road, he slowed down to ask if I was ok. I sobbed that I wasn’t, and then asked if he could pull me out. He said, Yes, he could. As he got his chains out and set up, I told Travis about Pickup Man and said I’d call him back.

The man told me to get in my car, put it in reverse, and to gun it and turn the wheel when he said to. I did exactly that and in less than a minute, my car was back on the solid ground of the gravel road. I thanked the man profusely for saving us, and briefly thought about paying him, but I didn’t have any cash, and my brain was fried from stress. He looked my car over and said that amazingly, he didn’t see any damage. Then he warned me to not stop on the shoulder of back-country roads anymore, because they weren’t safe. I know that now, I thought.

Hands still shaking, I got back in my car, put my car in drive, and traveled a little farther down the county road before completing a 20-point turn to head east back to the highway. I passed Pickup Man, who was continuing west. I said a prayer of thanks to God, for the man who helped me (God knew who he was), and for God’s provision of a person, driving a pickup, with chains, who knew how to use them, to be there right then. From the time I drove in the hole to the time I was pulled out was probably only about 15 minutes.

After getting back out on the highway, I called Travis to tell him I was out of the hole, there was no damage to the car, and I was on my way home. Hallelujah! Oh, and I’m never stopping on a country road EVER. AGAIN.

A few weeks later, we were headed back up to Travis’ parents’ house for deer hunting. Travis was curious to see where “the incident” happened. In the broad light of day, we could see that the hole I drove into was really a culvert, and what I had thought was a cornfield was really a swamp. img_1155Seriously, I can’t make this stuff up. And it only happens when Travis is out of town.

Thankfully, his hunting trip this year has been much less eventful… So far. ::knock on wood::

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Even More Thoughts on Grief

19 Jul

July 13th would’ve been my mom’s 63rd birthday. July 12th marked 5 months since her death.

We had the Krsnak family reunion the weekend after the Fourth with two of my mom’s brothers and their families. It was enjoyable, but bittersweet. My mom’s absence was palpable, inescapable. We all commented that it seemed like she’d show up at any moment, ready to cruise the lake on the pontoon or whip up something yummy in the kitchen.

We picked flowers from her garden and displayed the bouquet in a pickle jar. We took shots of pickle juice again, just like we did right after she had gone to heaven. We served her favorite foods: dill pickle chips, everything bagels, cucumbers in vinegar, barbeque pulled pork, snicker salad. We spread buns, bagels, muffins, and cheese slices out on plates, placed chips and fruit salad in bowls, just like my mom would’ve done. Even for a casual lunch, she’d put things on plates for a nice presentation. I never realized how much effort she put into things until trying to fill her shoes. They’re big shoes. I’m exhausted.

The human experience is so varied and multi-faceted that once I adjust to the idea of my mom’s absence in one sense, something else pops up and I have to deal with all over again. While we were in Ohio over Memorial Day, we had been relaxing on my aunt and uncle’s shaded brick patio, talking about where we should go for dinner. I had suggested sushi since Travis and I love sushi, and there’s nowhere to get it in Brainerd. Then I remembered there was some reason why we didn’t usually go out for seafood as a family… what was it again? Oh yeah… Because Mom didn’t like seafood.  A wave of grief overtook me.

It’s hard to move on and make memories and have life experiences that your loved one isn’t involved in, and doesn’t have any knowledge of. For so long, you’ve forged memories together and shared experiences together, to the extent that you didn’t even realize how much of your identity and experience of life was wrapped up with the other person. Until they’re gone. Then you see that, just like C.S. Lewis talks about in The Weight of Glory, that your enjoyment of something was enhanced, brought to fruition, by sharing that enjoyment with someone else. And when that person is no longer there to enjoy it with you, you no longer enjoy it the same way—and may never enjoy it that way again.

Another idea that I’ve been mulling over quite a bit recently is from C.S. Lewis’ The Four Loves:that each individual person brings out a unique aspect of someone else, so when you lose a friend, you not only lose them, but also the facets of the personalities that they brought out in other people. You lose the dynamic they brought to the group.

I love my family, and always look forward to spending time together. I inherited that quality from both of my parents, who would (and did) bend over backwards, and move heaven and earth to spend time with and help out their family. But I’ve discovered since my mom’s death that the thing I enjoyed most about being with my family, was being with her with my family. She, in many ways, was the hub, the turnstile, the bonding glue. Our family dynamic will never be the same.

Looking through photos of my mom the other night, I was reminded of how much fun my mom was. She was never afraid of looking silly or doing things that were beneath her. She’d wear funny hats and costumes, play in the sand with the kids, make us all answer an icebreaker question despite our groaning, coordinate games and activities like a contest to see who could spit a cherry pit the farthest.

Last Thanksgiving, we were sitting at the dining room table of Travis’ parents’ house, eating dinner. There was a lull in the conversation and I thought to myself, “This is the moment when Sheri Moen would ask everyone to say one thing they were thankful for.”

Even though I’m consumed with missing my mom, I’m not devastated. Because I know that she is still alive in heaven. Her soul still exists. She is still conscious, and having experiences. She is with Jesus, and in His presence there is fullness of joy. It’s like my mom moved to a foreign country. I won’t see her again for the rest of my earthly life, which I mourn, but I will see her again. At the same time I see her again, I will also see Jesus, and we will all glory together in God’s goodness and love for the rest of eternity. That is my hope in the midst of this earthly grief.

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Memorial Day 2016: Ohio Trip

23 Jun

This year, one of my cousins got married the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend in Zanesville, Ohio. Zanesville happens to be only 1.5 hours from my aunt and uncle who live in Green, Ohio (outskirts of Akron). Even though I have seen them fairly often in the past 2-3 years, I hadn’t been to visit them in something like 20 years, so we decided to make a week-long trip out of it!

Since the uncle we were visiting is my dad’s only brother and we’d be flying out of the same airport, we asked my dad if he wanted to join us. He did, so we met up at the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport (Travis, the girls, and I flew in from Brainerd) and rented a minivan together once we got to Cleveland.20160525_112648 (Large)The Wednesday we flew in, we stopped by the Cleveland Aquarium right after leaving the airport, mostly to minimize the amount of driving we’d be doing (it was about an hour drive between Cleveland and Green). Annabelle was mostly interested in climbing on things, but did enjoy seeing the big fish and sharks. Emma enjoyed running around on her own (too much), trying to touch the sting rays in the interactive area, drawing on the chalkboard areas, and using lots of hand sanitizer–looking at fish is not quite exciting enough for her, though I do think she liked the glass tunnel (that’s always my favorite part).

After the aquarium, we hit the road and spent the rest of the evening hanging out with Noel and Pat at their house, and grilling burgers for dinner. We stayed at Noel and Pat’s house the whole time we were up in the Cleveland/Akron area. Travis, the girls, and I slept in their really nice fifth wheel camper (which gave us a bunch of room to spread out), and my dad slept in their guest room. I usually dread nighttime on vacation because the girls have a track record of sleeping horribly, but they actually did REALLY well. Almost better than they do at home!

Thursday, my dad helped Noel work on one of the camper’s slide-outs that was broken, and Travis, the girls, and I headed to the Akron Zoo. It was a really fun time! Annabelle is old enough to enjoy looking at animals, and Emma had a blast running around.IMG_20160526_180420 Emma asked to ride the carousel, so we all went on it. Annabelle did not like how the animal she was riding moved up and down. She started crying the minute the carousel started moving, but was fine if I just held her. Emma loved it though.

Emma also asked to ride a little train they had in the kids’ area. It was $2 a person, and looked completely lame for an adult, so we convinced Emma to ride on it by herself if she really wanted to go. And she did! Another mom befriended her in line and offered that Emma could sit with them, but when they opened the gate to let them get on the train, Emma wandered down to the caboose at the end and sat all by herself! Her expression was priceless.

When she got off, I told her that I was proud of her for being so brave and riding the train all by herself, and she told me, “I was scared.” Cutie.

At the river otter habitat, the zoo had a clear plastic slide that went through the river otter tank. There were a bunch of kids there going down the slide over and over. Emma went down the slide a bunch of times too, but the last couple of times she went down, she stopped herself halfway done and tried to climb back up. The last time, I had to reach/climb up into the slide from the bottom and pull Emma out because she refused to move. And that was that.

Friday morning, Travis and Noel headed to the NFL Hall of Fame in Canton while my dad, Pat, the girls, and I headed to an outdoor pool in nearby Hartsville. The one thing I had forgotten to pack (there’s always something!) was a swimsuit for myself. I thought I could get by without one, but once we got to the pool, it became apparent that it would really be nice if I had a suit. So my dad and I went to Target as quickly as we could (still took us about 45 minutes roundtrip with traffic, even though the store was only 6 miles away) and I bought a suit. Once we got back, we stayed at the pool for about another hour. There was a big (lazy) waterslide that I tried to convince Emma to go on with me, but she refused. She wouldn’t even go down the kiddie one after sliding off the end into the water a little too fast. Annabelle had a blast climbing on the kiddie waterslide. I took both girls through the water falling from the mushroom/tree thing, but neither of them liked it.

After the pool, we packed up our stuff and headed down to Columbus to see my oldest brother Jeremy, his wife Jen, and their two boys, Jensen and Jackson. We went out for pizza at a place called Bexley Pizza Plus. It was delicious! We sat out on the patio, and Emma and Jensen had a great time running around chasing each other. After we got back to the hotel, Travis took Emma to the pool for a bit while I put Annabelle down for bed.

20160530_162109 (Large)Saturday was the day of my cousin’s wedding. We ate the hotel’s continental breakfast, and then swam in the pool for a bit before getting ready for the wedding and driving the hour from Columbus to Zanesville. Once we got to Zanesville, we quickly ate soup and salad at Olive Garden before heading to the church.

Tim and Mary’s wedding was held at a beautiful Catholic church and I’m sure the 1.5-hour service was wonderful–we just didn’t hear almost a single word between the low volume on the priest’s microphone, the echo of the wooden pews and stone walls, and the screeching/crying/whispering/banging/general chaos of the 40 kids in back. Seriously, there were a lot of kids at the wedding. One of the only things I did hear the priest say at the end of his homily was, “It sounds like a rainforest in here.”

Even though Emma colored on her own and Annabelle’s face in washable marker and threw one of the hymnals at Annabelle during the service (causing me to remove and discipline her), I think our kids actually did pretty well, all things considered. (But as we continually discovered during this vacation, there is a huge difference between things “going well” in terms of no major meltdowns and things “going well” in terms of getting to actually pay attention to and enjoy what you’re there for. By that latter definition, things definitely did not go well. But let’s be honest, they never do when you’re at a wedding with young kids.)

After the service, we checked into our hotel and got situated, and then headed to the reception, which was about 40 minutes away on Mary’s family’s farm. It was such a lovely evening–the weather was perfect, the reception was such a great mix of rustic farm charm and wedding formal, they had rented a bouncy house for the kids. Emma had a blast playing in the bouncy house, with various other toys, and running around the farm. Annabelle, on the other hand, had a hard time. She’s just at a hard age where she isn’t content to just sit or be held, but is also very limited in what she can do, especially outside on a farm where there is either cement or hay fields to crawl on. We made do, enjoyed as much of the reception as we could, and headed home a little before 10 pm.

IMG_20160529_114622Sunday morning, we snuck in a quick swim before meeting my whole family in the hotel lobby for the continental breakfast. We chatted for a little over an hour before we all needed to pack up and go our respective ways. Travis, the girls, my dad, my aunt and uncle, and I all headed back up to Cleveland to go to an Indians game at 1:10 pm.

Emma was very hesitant about going into the ballpark at first (she’s never been anywhere like that before) but once we got in, she relaxed. I, however, was extremely frustrated for the first few innings because the girls were thirsty but we had read online that you couldn’t bring sippy cups or water bottles into the ballpark, and there were no cups or straws to be found (neither Emma nor Annabelle can drink out of a water bottle without a straw). I did, however, see many people who had brought their own sippy cups in! Grrrr….  Luckily, as I was complaining, a lady in front of me overheard and offered me one of her straws that she had brought along for her toddler. I was so grateful! That helped settle me down.

I seriously didn’t watch really any of the game, but Travis said that he saw enough of it to feel like it had been worth it. And it was really for him that we went, so that’s good enough for me. Besides sitting in our seats for about 20 minutes total, we raced a ghost runner to first base (one of the kid activities they had), ate $6 hot dogs (Emma and Annabelle both almost ate an entire one by themselves!), and checked out the Kids Club area, which had a bunch of Step2 toys and its own private viewing deck (where Travis caught almost an entire 2 innings while “watching” Emma!).IMG_20160530_090701There was a big tunnel slide in the Kids Area, and just like at the zoo, Emma stopped herself halfway down and wouldn’t come out. So Travis had to go in after her, but by the time he had gotten to where she had been in the slide, she had decided to go down and was already out. So he popped out the bottom looking like he had just gone down the slide by himself, ha.

Sunday evening, we were feeling burned out and wishing that we had gone home that day instead of staying until Tuesday. But Monday (Memorial Day) ended up being really fun and redeemed our longer stay. We stopped by a car show on a whim and ended up staying a couple of hours. While my dad and Noel looked at cars (they were loving it!), Travis and I played at the playground with the girls. Then we ate a free picnic lunch, complete with ice cream bars. We also stopped to look at the two pink cars we saw (Emma’s favorite color) and take pictures. IMG_20160530_160012After naptime, we drove to the Erie Canal and checked that out. Beautiful, but hot.

For dinner, we ate ribs and corn on the cob at Noel and Pat’s, and then went out for ice cream at Pav’s Creamery.

Tuesday morning, we were up bright and early to catch our flight from the Cleveland airport back to Minneapolis/St. Paul. We had a 3-hour layover there before our flight back up to Brainerd, so my dad ate lunch with us at Rock Bottom before taking off. The rest of the layover we spent walking on the moving sidewalks, playing at the airport playground, getting coffee, eating snacks, changing diapers, and checking out the nursing moms room (very nice, I might add!). It actually was a very enjoyable time. The girls were having a blast. The thing about kids is, they don’t care that they’re playing on a playground at the airport. A playground is fun anywhere! The play area also had coin-operated rides, and the girls rode those probably a half a dozen times.

We made a lot of great memories during our week in Ohio, and it’s always great spending time with family (seriously, it’s one of my favorite things in life), but we were SO GLAD to get home. Traveling with young kids is no joke. I may have been a homebody before having kids, but I really am one now. Like they say, with young kids, you don’t go on vacations… you go on family trips. Now I need a real vacation!

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Signs of Spring 2016

11 Jun

We are now officially (at least according to Minnesotans!) into summer. While I LOVE warm evenings, open windows, al fresco dining, and beach days, I think spring is quickly becoming my favorite season. Maybe I just didn’t pay attention to these things before, but this year, I was mesmerized by the beauty of God’s creation. There were flowers everywhere! The sunrises and sunsets seemed to be consistently stunning. But I even encountered beauty in lichens on tree bark, stacked piles of birch firewood, dandelions on the edge of the driveway, and a leaf fallen on the asphalt.

A line from one of my favorite running songs says “Heaven and all the universe proclaim Your power and Your worth” (Your Love Goes on Forever by Sonicflood). How true that is.

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Celebrating 9 Years

10 Jun

Travis and I celebrated 9 years of marriage on May 19, which fell on a Thursday this year. The day of, we went out to eat at Culver’s for lunch and then stopped by Home Depot to buy some annuals they had on sale. (Pretty exciting, huh?)

The weekend following our anniversary, Travis’ parents came down to our house and watched the girls for us so we could spend the day being tourists in our own town. (We would’ve loved to get away somewhere overnight but because Annabelle is still nursing, teething, and won’t take a bottle, we decided against it. Baby steps. She’ll get there eventually.)

Both Travis and I love ourselves a good garage sale, so Saturday morning, we headed out garage sale-ing. We weren’t overly impressed with the selection at the sales we went to, but we found some stuff to buy — books, picture frames, a Nemo sprinkler and Spongebob fishing rod, a small basketball, a few clothes, etc. Nothing we were really hoping to find, but it was fun nonetheless.

A full morning of garage sales worked up quite the appetite so we hit up Zorbaz on Gull Lake for lunch. It was very hot and bright out on the patio, but once we snagged a table under an umbrella, it was quite pleasant. Their BBQ chicken pizza is delicious.IMG_20160521_135145

After lunch, we headed over to Pirate’s Cove for some mini golf. It was HOT out there–I think it was probably 90 degrees and 70% humidity. We Minnesotans are kind of wusses when it comes to heat. But it was fun nonetheless. I got 2 or 3 holes-in-one (Travis got one too) but also had a few holes that took me 6+ strokes, so Travis ended up winning by about 10 strokes (he always does, so nothing new there). We decided that we hadn’t been mini-golfing since I was pregnant with Emma.IMG_20160521_211757

Travis had a craving for ice cream from Dairy Queen after that so we got mini blizzards and took them to a nearby park where we walked on a bike path through the woods. It was still pretty darn hot though, and I was getting tired (all those garage sales took it out of me!), so we cut our walk short, and decided that if we were going to take our boat out to do some fishing and still make it to a movie that night, we needed to do it.

So we went home, Travis talked to his parents while I nursed Annabelle (Emma was napping), we hooked up the boat, and launched it just a few miles from our house on the Crow Wing River. Travis fished while I read a book (Not Who I Imagined by Margot Starbuck) and we chatted. Right before we left, a couple of river otters poked their heads out of the water and growled at us. Then one of them swam closer and popped out of the water just about 10 feet from our boat. It was really cool! We see wildlife all the time where we live, but river otters were a first!

After we pulled our boat out of the water, we brought it back to the house and quickly snuck out undetected to go see The Jungle Book in the theater. It was good! We both enjoyed it, and liked the ending in that version better than the one in the Disney movie. We got home from the movie around 9 pm, put the girls to bed, and crashed. It was a very fun, busy, tiring day!

Sunday, we left the girls at home while we went to church for small group and the worship service. After eating lunch at Erbert’s and Gerbert’s, we stopped by Menards for a few things (where we actually ended up running into Travis’ parents with the girls–they were there buying seeds for their garden). Then we all headed home for naps and yardwork. That evening, we went to a potluck picnic with our small group from church. It was a great end to a wonderful weekend.13221091_10154541162696664_1927563454665897256_n

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Worth Repeating {5/19/16}

19 May

In honor of my 9th wedding anniversary, I edited a post from the archives. It’s still as true today as it was then. God gets all the credit and glory for my marriage. Hope you enjoy it.

worth_repeating

Originally posted February 24, 2012

 

 

There was a time in our marriage when Travis and I pretty much went our own ways on the weekends. We asked each other, “What are your plans for this weekend?” and both did our own things.

But in September 2011, things changed.

We still ran the same errands on the weekends. But we ran them together. Yes, it meant things took longer. And that we spent time doing things that weren’t our first pick (grocery shopping for him, Home Depot browsing for me). But we were together. And we were having FUN!

We also went on one impromptu date each weekend – which gave us time to talk, laugh and enjoy one another.

And those things made something else happen.

When Travis came home from work, instead of giving him a slight head nod and a “Hey beads” while I continued making dinner or changed out of my running clothes, I’d intentionally stop what I was doing and go hug and kiss him hello. He was happier because I was talking his love language. I was happier because I actually wanted to hug and kiss him (which sadly, hadn’t always been the case).

When I talked to him on the phone, I enjoyed hearing his voice.

When he smiled and his eyes crinkled, I felt so in love with him.

We laughed over well-timed movie line quotes and inside jokes.

We watched the dogs frolic from our kitchen window, silently daring them to jump the fence.

When Travis mused aloud about Roth IRAs and whether or not he should take the new job, instead of rolling my eyes, ignoring him, or lamenting that we’ve already talked about this, I listened and offered him my advice…again.

Travis would ask me to come look at, or help him with something, and I didn’t get frustrated.

Travis wanted to buy a ridiculously expensive antelope hunting tag and I didn’t demand the same amount of money to spend on myself.

I won a pool table competition and instead of running out to buy a new shirt with my $30, I offered to take Travis out to lunch.

The best part about all of this? 

I did none of it. It all happened organically, by the grace of God. I honestly look back at all this and think, How did this happen? I surely did not cause this! This is not MY handiwork!

God did this. And He did it by inspiring my obedience in one little thing: painting our front door brick red. I hated that door. Oh, how I hated it. I painted it once, 3 coats of painstaking strokes. Only to have the beautiful red paint peel off in my hands as I removed the painter’s tape. The door remained white for at least another a month. It took me that long to get over being angry.

Finally, at Travis’ request, I tackled it once again, this time armed with primer. I still remember standing in the hallway next to our kitchen, glaring at the door. I did. not. want. to paint the door again. I was done with it. But out of a desire to serve my husband by helping with a house project, I did it. And I swear, that was a turning point in the way I thought about our marriage.

Things only got better from there. Yes, we still had disagreements and tension from time to time. But it was no longer the door-slamming, fruit-throwing, cuss-word-yelling that our marriage my responses once were (Travis has not resorted to my form of temper tantrums).

Which proves that I, unfortunately, do not have any marriage advice. Because I could not have written this story. God’s ideas are always infinitely better than mine, though often harder to understand. Why did it take me almost 5 years of marriage to get to that place? Why did God bless me with my husband, though I abused him for so long? Why am I still learning these same lessons in different contexts after almost a decade of marriage? I don’t know.

But I do know that the best advice for anything is: Get to know God. The real God of the Bible. Jesus, who died for your sins. He is amazing. And He is the only answer you ever need.

That is not just a trite saying. I don’t say that flippantly. I say it with the full force of my being and my heart behind it. I say it as I look back on 5 years of hating the wife I was and wanting to throw in the towel, and another 4 years of still falling short of who I want to be. I believe that God has the power to redeem and glorify any marriage, even ones that have been torn apart by infidelity, loss or deceit. Because this God – He ransomed us from our sins. He has granted us eternal life. Surely He can do ALL things!

Put Him to the test. Ask Him to do amazing things in your marriage. Stay alert to the ways He works in your life. He will stun you.

Though I am dry and barren

By grace this love springs forth

Love for You and Your kingdom

Joy in Your glory Lord

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Emma’s 3rd & Annabelle’s lst Birthday Party

3 May

Emma and Annabelle’s birthdays are only a week and a half apart, so we celebrated them with two joint parties this year–one with family on Easter and one with friends on the Saturday after Emma’s birthday (April 9).

Since Emma is obsessed with all things pink right now, that was naturally the theme we chose. After much planning on Pinterest (link to my board here) and much crafting over the course of a couple months, everything came together! It was a great day.

20160409_100800 (Large)20160409_100806 (Large)20160409_100813 (Large)20160409_100829 (Large)Instead of cake, we just did cupcakes for the girls (more for blowing out candles than anything) and ice cream sundaes for everyone else. They were tasty!20160409_100855 (Large)

Pink lemonade and ice cream sundae toppings (whipped cream and chocolate syrup were brought out later)20160409_100902 (Large)20160409_130408 (Large)

For Annabelle’s 12-month photo collage, I found a framed picture at a secondhand store for $25, painted the glass with chalkboard paint, hot-glued mini clothespins on, and added the photos that I had printed in 4×4 size from Shutterfly. The frame ended up being the perfect size! 20160409_130444 (Large)

I made the tulle pom-pom garland and tissue paper poms using tutorials I found online. They’re actually really easy, just takes time!20160409_130515 (Large)20160409_130523 (Large)

I ordered these Gerber daisies from a local flower shop, but was unaware that they’re so expensive! The flowers were $3 each–and they even gave me a discount! I did enjoy them but next time, I think I’ll stick with regular daisies.

Annabelle fell asleep in her highchair while eating, so she was taking a nap while we did cake and ice cream. Ah well, she’s not a huge fan of sweets anyway.

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Ice cream time!20160409_115608 (Large)20160409_115603 (Large)20160409_115911 (Large)20160409_122146 (Large)20160409_122143 (Large)20160409_123042(1) (Large)20160409_132037 (Large)IMG_6483 (Large)IMG_6488 (Large)IMG_6492 (Large)IMG_6472 (Large)IMG_20160409_151133

More Thoughts on Grief

29 Apr

IMG_20160429_082734It’s been over 2 months since my mom passed away, and it’s just now starting to set in that she’s really gone. I won’t see her again in this lifetime.

This awareness has coincided with most people going back to their own lives. The meals and cards have stopped. The questions about how I’m doing are no longer asked. I’ve heard this same thing from other people who have gone through grief. The true impact of the loss doesn’t start to set into your consciousness until the constant swirl of activity and people surrounding the loss quiets down, and you’re left with what your life was like before, except for that big gaping hole left by your loved one who is no longer here.

I totally get it. I’m as self-absorbed as the next person, and until I had experienced my mom having and dying from cancer, I didn’t truly understand or think through what that experience was like (and even now that I know, I’m still self-absorbed!). The Bible says that’s one of the blessings found in trials–we can comfort others with the comfort we have received from God, because we know. We get it. Sure, every experience of grief is different, but they all share similarities too.

A couple down our street lost their 3-year-old daughter to leukemia over a year ago. I read on either their Caring Bridge site or in a Facebook post their plea to be told memories about their daughter, that they loved talking about her and the things she loved, that it was helpful and healing to talk about it. I appreciated that candor because as a person who was once on the side of never having experienced devastating loss and who is now on the other side, I know that it’s hard to know what to say—on both sides.

In the days and weeks following my mom’s death, friends and family asked how I was doing. At that point, I was mostly in shock, with some peace and acceptance mingled in. Each time, I’d shrug my shoulders and say, “We’re doing ok.” That was easier and more socially acceptable than the long answer of, “Well honestly, I can’t believe she’s dead. I look around and everything reminds me of her, but I just think the thoughts and move on. I feel sad, but mostly I feel numb. I have also been listening to Good, Good Father by Chris Tomlin on repeat because I need the reminder that God’s ways are perfect, and He has a reason for things being like this. I also feel somewhat hopeful and expectant to see what God does through this, because I truly believe that this would not have happened if there was any other way for God to accomplish what He wants to accomplish here. I also feel a little anger and bitterness toward those who fall apart at the thought of a cancer diagnosis, or having surgery, and especially trials that aren’t medically related, because at least they’re still alive and fighting. At least they haven’t lost the battle. But I know that’s insensitive, and cancer and surgery and other crises are big deals, and I still make mountains out of the petty molehills in my life so I’m not any better.”

Even if I had felt the freedom to verbally vomit like that on those who sincerely and innocently asked how I was doing, it wouldn’t have come out like that. There were so many mixed emotions in my heart that I couldn’t even fully process them all myself, let alone put them into words to speak out loud. I think through writing—that’s the way I process things. (So if you think that I share way more on my blog than I do in real life, that’s why!)

Then there were people who didn’t say anything—maybe because they didn’t think about it, or maybe because they didn’t know what to say. Again, I get it. With no outward reminders of loss and no context of a hospice or funeral home, it’s easy to stop thinking about someone else’s loss. But if you’ve ever struggled, as I have, with not knowing what to say, or thinking that maybe bringing it up would open wounds that the grieving person would prefer to not deal with at the moment, let me offer this:

A simple “I’m sorry for your loss” means the world. There’s nothing you can say to make the situation easier or better, but a simple acknowledgment that that person’s world has inalterably changed at least lets them know that you’re aware, and you feel for them.

Those grieving the loss of a loved one are already thinking about them all the time. There’s no escape from the reminders, or the sorrow. So don’t worry that you are dredging up memories or opening a wound because those memories are comforting and the wound is already open. It’s nice to remember that loved one, and to hear other people’s unique memories.

Because try as you might to remember that person—how they spoke, acted, smelled, felt—your memories fade over time. But then you can have a dream of that person, and your brain remembers exactly how and who they were.

That happened to me about a week ago. It was a strange dream, and the details really aren’t that important, except that I hugged my mom, and she felt exactly like herself, like my arms and hands remembered the contours of her shoulders and the way I am just slightly taller than she was. And in my dream, she was laughing. My whole family was there, and we were all laughing and having a great time. Right before I woke up, though, my mom disappeared from view. My dad said the same words as he had said in real life, “She’s gone.” And I went to look for her but she wasn’t there.

I was roused from that dream by Annabelle crying. It took me a bit to wake up but after I stumbled to her room and sat in the glider that my mom was the impetus of buying, nursing Annabelle, I cried.

I cried because Annabelle won’t remember her. I cried because my mom was my go-to for advice on everything from parenting and wound-mending to decorating and cooking. I cried because I still have texts on my phone from her, and somehow that makes it sink in that she hasn’t been gone that long, and yet it feels like forever. I cried because that hug felt so. real.

I brought back some shirts and shoes of my mom’s that I found while going through her things. When I wear them, I feel simultaneously comforted and heartbroken. They’re like a tribute to her but also a reminder that I only have them because she’s not here anymore.

The Easter holiday and the girls’ birthdays were the first major holidays after my mom’s death. It was palpable that she wasn’t here, and I cried myself to sleep each night that my dad was here, because even though I love seeing him, his presence goes hand in hand with a very tangible reminder of my mom’s absence.

The evening of Good Friday, I lay in bed looking out the window at the tall, leafless trees basking in the faint moonlight. I could finally understand a little of what Jesus’ followers felt after His death. The sadness, the crushed dreams, the shock of what had happened.

Their grief only lasted until the third day, when Jesus came back in His glorious resurrected body, but before that happened, they grieved without hope. They did not fully understand what was taking place. And that is the difference between their grief and mine—and any believer’s. We do “not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep.” (1 Thess. 4:14)

I won’t see my mom again in this life, but I will see her again. Nevertheless, “life has become a little less sweet, death a little less bitter, heaven a little more real.” (Puritan Proverb)

Easter 2016

12 Apr

Easter this year was extra special because it was also Annabelle’s 1st birthday! Because of that, we decided to host Easter at our place and celebrate both the girls’ birthdays with our families (Emma’s birthday was April 7).

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My dad came up Saturday night. I hadn’t known his final plans (he sent a text but I didn’t check my phone) so when he walked in the door from our garage, we were like “Um, who is this person coming into our house?!?!” Ha.

On Sunday, we all went to church for the 9 a.m. service (which was so, so, SO good), then headed back home to finish making lunch. While we were getting things ready, Travis’ parents Al and Beth, his sister Carolyn and nephew Drew all arrived. For lunch, we had ham, mashed butternut squash, strawberry cheesecake (pudding) salad, wild rice hotdish, fresh green beans with slivered almonds, and rolls.

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Then it was time for an Easter egg hunt! Travis and I hid the eggs around our yard, and Emma loved finding them. She needed a little help locating the general vicinity of the ones that weren’t completely obvious, but otherwise, she did a great job.

20160327_142227 (Large)20160327_142252 (Large)20160327_142545 (Large)Each time she found one and put it in her basket, she’d say “’Nother one? ‘Nother one?” She was pretty disappointed when it was all done. The only thing that lifted her spirits was going back inside for cupcakes and ice cream!

Emma loves blowing out candles so we sang Happy Birthday to her first, and then to Annabelle. Emma blew out both her candles and Annabelle’s (since Annabelle can’t blow them out yet). Both girls just licked the frosting off their cupcakes. Annabelle makes the cutest faces of disgust when she’s trying new foods, and the frosting did not disappoint! But she got over it. After eating all the frosting, Emma destroyed her remaining cupcake but Annabelle lost interest pretty quickly.20160327_144900 (Large)20160327_144853 (Large)20160327_145437 (Large)20160327_145407 (Large)20160327_145421 (Large)

Then it was time to open presents! In addition to awesome Easter baskets from Al & Beth and Carolyn, Emma got a water table from my parents (they bought it before my mom passed), a trampoline from Travis’ parents, some dresses and a Crayola Tub of Fun from Carolyn & Drew, and a pink play rotary phone and some crafts from great-aunt Cheryl.

20160327_124746 (Large)20160327_124738 (Large)20160327_150702 (Large)Annabelle got a bike trailer from my parents, Tobbles and a name puzzle from Al and Beth, adorable clothes, a stuffed bunny and a book from Carolyn and Drew, and more cute clothes from great-aunt Cheryl.

We bought Emma a Barbie fishing rod; training wheels, streamers and a basket for her bike; and a bed canopy. We got Annabelle a wooden whale shaker, a couple books, a baby doll (that only ended up being 8 inches tall, whoops!), and some cogs for bath time.

20160327_150650.jpgAfter all the presents were open, we all went back outside, except for the Papas who stayed inside and set up the trampoline (which apparently came with pretty poor instructions). Then the birthday girls took a bath and it was time for the Kluthes to head home. Emma was devastated that Nana Beth was leaving.

My dad stayed at our place until Tuesday night, working remotely from our basement. We enjoyed his extra-long stay! Emma loves “fishing” with her new Barbie fishing rod and the rubber fishy on the end. The trampoline is also a hit, and we’re just waiting for the weather to warm up so we can use the water table and bike trailer.

It was a great Easter. Happy 1st birthday Annabelle! You’ll always be my cute little baby.20160327_125457 (Large)20160327_125648 (Large)20160327_125644 (Large)20160327_125657 (Large)

Grief.

21 Mar

My mom is dead. My mom died.

I keep repeating those words in my head, unable to comprehend this truth. We knew it was a possibility, even a probability, for so long and yet now that it’s happened, it doesn’t feel real.

Other times it feels like a stab in the heart. Or like an elephant sitting on my chest. Like a nightmare I can’t outrun. Like someone else’s life I am observing. Like the whole world is different. Like the world is the same and I’m different.

With two young kids, I don’t have the option of sitting around grieving. And to be honest, even though spending extra time in bed or on the couch sounds appealing, I want to keep moving forward with life – if for no other reason than my mom would’ve wanted me to. Even in her last weeks and months, she was worried most about how her death would affect us, how we would handle the gaping hole she left in her wake. She was concerned about other people so much that it drove me crazy sometimes!

She loved being a mom, and for the past four years, a grandma. There is hardly any aspect about mothering now that does not remind me of her. When I nurse Annabelle, I think of my mom nursing me until I was over 2 (so she said, I don’t remember it). When I rock either girl in my arms, I think of my mom, who loved, loved, loved rocking babies (no sleep training for that woman!). When they cry, I think of how she wouldn’t have been able to stand it—her momma bear instinct was too fierce.

Those reminders of her make me want to be a better mom. A mom who is more patient, loving, kind, gentle, self-controlled and self-sacrificing. I want to “major on the majors” and make sure I find time for the most important things, not let my days get eaten up with things that don’t really matter (even if they’re things I enjoy). I want to live my life with joy and passion, to pursue my dreams, to make the best use of my days. I want to enjoy being a mother, to truly embrace my role and not just view my girls as impediments to my freedom and personal time (which I do sometimes because I’m selfish). I want to be compassionate and patient with my girls, to hold them when they’re crying, to get on their level and understand what’s wrong instead of getting mad that they’re being difficult. Because life is short, and I want to look back on these years able to say that I loved deeply and lived well.

As we sat by my mom in her last hours, my dad, older brother Jeremy, sister-in-law Jen, younger brother Chris, and I all took turns rubbing her arms and hands. Her freckled hands were as familiar to me as my own. They were her instruments of serving and healing. Those hands cared for us, patched wounds, massaged backs and legs, changed diapers, blew noses, washed bodies, applied sunscreen, dried hair, cooked meals, wiped tears.

I find myself wishing I could talk to her in prayer like Jesus. Even though we were blessed with time for saying goodbye in long, heartfelt conversations, I find myself replaying what I said and wondering, “Why in the world didn’t I bring up more fond memories, instead of her being left alone with all the kids for hours by my dad and grandparents, and her throwing the hairdryer in anger at me when I was being extremely difficult? Did I even tell her that I thought she was an amazing mom and friend, and loved her to the core of my being?” So I ask Jesus to tell my mom that I love her and miss her, and that those aren’t what I think of when I remember her.

Instead, I’ll think of how she was my favorite person on earth next to my husband and babies. I’ll think about how familiar and dear she was to me, and how genuinely I enjoyed being around her. Yes, it’s true her worrywart tendencies drove me crazy sometimes, but isn’t that a mark of true intimacy? I’ll think about the weeks last summer that the girls and I spent with her while Travis traveled. Precious memories. I took them so very much for granted. If I had known then that she’d be gone by now…

But here’s the thing about watching someone die from cancer or disease: you often don’t know what to do or say. Even as a Christian with the greatest hope in the world, I stumbled through conversations and interactions because I just didn’t know. You can’t fully understand what the other person is experiencing, and you’re dealing with your own hard, mixed emotions about the whole situation. You want to be positive, but not Pollyanna. You want to be encouraging, but realistic. You want to empathize with their sorrow and fear, but not contribute or add to it. You want to ask about the situation, but you also want to distract them from it.

What I decided early on, especially since it was my mom, was that I was just going to show up and be real. I was going to try hard to point her to Jesus, and remind her of the hope she had in Him, but if I didn’t have the words, or know what to say, I’d just be there anyway. And I’d say, “I’m not sure what to say.”

Same with being by her side in those last days. What do you do in that situation? I wasn’t sure, but before I even left my house, I determined that I would not let my weird hangups or fear of awkwardness make me regret not doing something for her or with her at the end of her time on earth. So I sat by her on the bed, holding her hand. I hugged her, and rested my head on her shoulder when I saw tears in the corners of her eyes as she listened to a music therapist named Julie sing Beyond the Sunset with just her voice and an acoustic guitar. I wiped her mouth, dotted chapstick on her dry lips, and told her through sobs that this wasn’t the way I’d remember her—that there was this picture from the Mexican family reunion where she was playing a guitar made out of a skewer and aluminum sheet pan and laughing. That’s how I’ll remember her.

My brother Chris called the Tuesday before she died. “They don’t think she has long left,” he said. Even though I had visited her in the middle of January and said what I wanted to say, how do you not rush to the bedside of one you love so dear? So I packed up and hit the road with Annabelle (Travis would follow with Tina Tornado on the weekend so that I could have some quiet time with my mom), arriving in Rochester Tuesday evening. As I was unloading the car, my dad took Annabelle up to see my mom. He said she just lit up when Annabelle entered the room.

That night and Wednesday, she was alert for 30 minutes or so every few hours. Wednesday night, my dad woke up Jeremy, Jen and me in the middle of the night, thinking that the end was near. But her heart was stubborn and held on for all of Thursday too. That was a long day. Some extended family came to visit. The music therapist and hospice nurse came for a bit. Several times, we thought the end was close, but she recovered, heart beating, lungs breathing.

Thursday night, we went to bed around 10:30. About 12:15 am on Friday, I woke up to my dad nudging me and he simply said, “She’s gone.” I got up and followed him into the hall, where we talked to my brother and sister-in-law a bit. We said good night and headed back to bed, but the second I got under the covers, I was like, “What am I doing? I can’t go back to sleep right now!”

So I headed upstairs and asked if I could see her. And it was true: she was gone. Just the shell of her earthly body remained. Her soul, the real her, was in heaven with Jesus. Chris said truthfully, “Now we’re the ones to feel sorry for.”

My dad called the funeral home and they said they’d be out in 30 minutes to take her body. So Chris went and got Jeremy and Jen, and we all stayed in the bedroom until the funeral home people arrived.

While they carried her body out of the house, the rest of us moved into the kitchen and Chris jokingly suggested taking shots of pickle juice (one of my mom’s favorite things) in her honor. “Let’s do it!” I said. So the five of us said, “Cheers,” and drank shots of pickle juice at 1:00 in the morning.

Early afternoon on Friday, Travis and Emma arrived, and the rest of our time down in Rochester was a blur of funeral preparations, seeing extended family and chasing wild kids. That was one of the hardest weeks of my life, and I was relieved when I could finally retreat to my own home and familiar comforts. I see vaguely now that part of the reason was that I wanted to escape the relentless reminders of her absence, a luxury my dad doesn’t have.

Two weekends ago, I returned to Rochester for the first time since my mom died. As I walked in the door of my parents’ house and saw a peace lily from the funeral my dad had placed on the piano, it hit me afresh that my mom was gone. It was just his house now. Little by little, evidences of her decorating, organization, presence will disappear. We boxed up unused medical supplies and sorted through her clothes, personal items, jewelry, shoes, and purses while I was there, making piles of things to keep, things to sell, things to throw. I know it’s time to do these things but it still just feels too sudden, too soon.  I haven’t been able to delete her contact from my phone because it feels like I’d be erasing her. I know it’s not… but still.

Grief is a process, and as the hospice chaplain told us, it’s different for everyone. When I focus on this earthly life, I am devastated my mom died. But when I remember the hope of heaven, and the fact that she’s there now, I feel peaceful. As one of the wonderful sympathy cards we received says (in the words of M.B. Anderson): “God confidently assures us—in the great symphony of life, the final refrain for the believing heart is triumphant, everlasting JOY.”

We’re sad on earth, but my mom is celebrating in Jesus’ presence. We saw her earthly life end, but she is living a glorious beginning.

“Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting? The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!” (1 Cor. 15:54-57)

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