Sunday, July 9, 2017

A Puppy Metaphor

In March, we put down our best friend of 13 years. There were three dogs prior to Chester, but his loss was the most difficult. I had a hole in my heart the size of the size of the moon.

We toyed with the idea of a new dog, but I could not find one that would heal my soul. I continued my search. I even inquired about a pup or two... nothing felt right; until I saw a beautiful black fur ball in a town not too far from home.

He was still available when I called, so I arranged a meeting.
My heart began to fill the minute I saw him and immediately placed a down payment.


I snapped this photo and we proceeded to come up with a name.
Maximus (Max) is what we decided on and I made bi-weekly visits until the day we brought him home.

Raising a puppy is hard work. (We forgot that part.)
Especially when this young guy is still weeks away from being able to control his bladder and bowels.
He is under constant supervision and we are still unable to stop mistakes from happening.
Just today, after I was freshly showered and getting ready for church, I stepped in a cold turd left behind by this cute little creature.

As I explained what happened to my husband, we both realized the metaphor this event represented...
No matter how hard we try to teach our children.
No matter what examples we set.
No matter how much we watch over them.
They will still explore the world around them
and quite possibly leave a turd for us to step in and deal with.

What is important here, is how we respond to this turd.
We can rant and rave and kick up a fuss, which will most often fall on deaf ears.
OR, we can pick up our little loved one, lavish them in hugs and kisses
and give them the opportunity to do better next time.

Tuesday, August 2, 2016

Being Ernest

22 days after my fathers passing, 17 days after being laid to rest,
my mother is celebrating their wedding anniversary…
53 years ago today.

These two worked side by side all of their married life.
As parents.
As business owners.
As missionaries.
As eternal companions.

They are two of my greatest examples in love and charity.
My father cared for my mother as long as he was able.
She then took care of him when he was incapable.

Happy Anniversary Mom.
I am certain dad remembers and is blowing you kisses from heaven!
53 YEARS

Sunday, July 24, 2016

Being Ernest

As a family, we were preparing to leave town the following week for our annual trip to Lake Powell.
After my last visit with dad, I knew things were a little off.
His look was “droopy”… I didn’t think he would last the year.

2016-07-08 10.44.07

I had a strong feeling that I should have a plan in place, just in case I was needed at home during our vacation.
I checked out pricing for flights home and knew the best route to take.
Little did I know, we would never make it to the lake.

Mom received a call from dads care center Sunday evening.
He took a turn for the worse and they didn’t expect him to last 24 hours.
My husband and youngest daughter joined me as I rushed out to meet Mom and my brother there.
My oldest was at work and would join us later.

Eric was already there when we arrived. I found him in the lobby, trying to console his youngest son.
I made my way to dads room and immediately recognized the death rattle.
Mom arrived not long afterward. There was no doubt that we were spending the night there.
Without hesitation, we canceled the hotel, and Eric postponed his business trip.
Both mom and dad were given a priesthood blessing.

Evan and Taylor left to meet Kylee back home.
They gathered some things to help keep me comfortable and the three of them returned with my care package.
Eric made arrangements for G to spend the night at a friends and retuned after dropping him off.

Mom, Eric and I spent the night in chairs placed in dads side of the room.
We listened to him labor in breathing all night long.
The nurses took great care of him, administering Morphine and Lorazepam as prescribed by hospice.
In the morning, mom left to care for her dog and eat some breakfast. Eric and I stayed.
Dad continued to struggle with his breathing. Just listening to him wore me out. I am certain he was exhausted.
Mom returned and the three of us watched, listened, and waited.
Dad took his last breath at 11:01 AM, Monday morning.

My immediate thought…. Dad has CLARITY!