Unable To Move

I know I haven’t posted much lately, but I’ve been out of sorts.  Yes, there’s the usual busy-ness, but there’s also something that has been haunting me.  I think I need to talk about it, as this seems to help sometimes.

I recently Tweeted that I’ve been feeling guilty for not calling my mom in three weeks.  Shortly thereafter, I got an email from her with some good news.  You see, my mom injured herself badly about 4 years ago, so badly that she is in constant pain.  If you stand close to her, you can hear a suppressed whimper of pain under every breath.  She tries to be brave, and every now and then she gets a shot in her spine which seems to help, but it’s hard for her to carry on.

Well, after a LONG battle with the Social Security Administration, she finally had her arbitration hearing, and the ruling was in her favor.  Both my mom and my dad have been out of work for a few years, so this is a blessing beyond measure.

I was so happy to hear this news, so happy that my folks are finally getting a reprieve from the heavy burdens they bear, happy that their luck finally seems to be turning.  I decided to call, get over my guilt, and congratulate her.

When she answered the phone, there was something not quite right in her voice.

Mom and Dad had been feeling great on the way home;  they were so excited, when they got home they went straight to the back yard to sit in the Florida loveliness (my parents are outstanding landscapers) and relish their victory.

It was then that they heard a faint, frightened cry for help from within the house.  It was the voice of their son, my younger brother Scott.

Scott has a form of Muscular Dystrophy.  He’s been wheelchair bound since his early 20’s.  Apparently, he had fallen out of his chair in a freak accident, shortly after my parents had left that morning.  He had hit the ground hard, and bruised himself up pretty badly.  Due to his disease, he was pretty much unable to move.  His cell phone had fallen with him, and lay useless on the floor across the room.

He had been trapped, on the floor, by himself, unable to move, in pain, for four hours.

My folks took him to the emergency room, and he’s banged up but nothing is broken, but I want you to read that last sentence again.  I just can’t get that thought out of my head.

I feel an incredible amount of guilt about this myself; I can’t imagine the guilt my parents are going through about this.  Now, you have to remember that Scott is a grown man, and he’s done fine by himself during the day for years and years.  My father has made their house entirely wheelchair accessible.  But there it is:

He had been trapped, on the floor, by himself, unable to move, in pain, for four hours.

Damn.

 I do NOT blame my parents.  I know they blame themselves, but they shouldn’t.   It was a freak accident, one that hasn’t happened in 20 years of my brother being in a wheelchair.

My parents have a tendency to overreact, and I have no doubt they’ll never leave Scott alone again, no matter how difficult the circumstances.  This brings up issues that my older brother and I have always spoken about in hushed tones.  Scott is a full grown man, and he doesn’t have the strength to help when he needs to be transfered from his wheelchair to the bed, or the tub, or his easy chair my dad set up to help his legs rest.  And my dad turns 65 this year.

Dad has always been a big bear of a man, but he wont be able to lift Scott forever.  Plus Scott, deep down, does not want to be in Florida.  He wants to be with his brothers, where he can go to Titans and Predators games, and generally hang out with people close to his age.  Even though he needs professional semi-skilled care (which we can’t afford because my older brother recently lost his job), we might could come up with some arrangement where my brother could be cared for in our homes.

But my parents are stubborn people, and it may sound funny coming from a 43 year old, but I don’t want to disobey them.  I think that deep down, all of us, parents and children, know that a day is coming when the two able-bodied sons are going to have to sit down with the parents and say, “No disrespect, but you’re going to have to let it go and let us take over”.  But for now, we have instead, this uneasy silence where we sons know what we have to say, but we don’t say it.

I think it’s going to take Scott telling them to let the brothers take over.  Ironically, they’ll listen to him.

Sorry, I know all of this is a downer, but it’s been eating away at me since my mother told me, and I had to get it off my chest.

Just A Little Clarification

I have a menopausal wife, aging parents, and two kids who are entering adolesence. 

I don’t see how you could have any questions, but I’ll continue.

It’s all drama around here, all the time.

I hit a moment yesterday, when I had just completed a horrible day at work.  Our kids’ school presented us with an unexpected bill for $1600, which we do not have right now.  I’ve never, in my entire adult life, had someone tell me I owe them money, and not be able to pay it immediately.  We also just paid a $450 electric bill.  That’s not a typo.  We’ve  had car repairs, extra doctor bills, kids that need shoes.

Our finances are so screwed up, we’re two months behind on our tithe.  Don’t worry, I’ve worked out a debt repayment plan with God.  In fact, we’ll catch up with everything in time.  But it’s a punch in the stomach in the here and now.

So, back to yesterday.  All of this is simmering in the back of my mind, and I’m exhausted from the hard day at work,and I’m frantically trying to get the kitchen clean and get dinner ready, while at the same time trying to get a post done for UBN (I have to get six done per week), and watching the clock because I had to be somewhere at 6 and I knew I wouldn’t be back home till after my normal bedtime. 

I have to be somewhere or host someone for the next 7 nights.  Then it begins again.  I just can’t say no, and somehow I end up volunteered to be somewhere every night.

Anyway, the kids were fighting and yelling and screaming at each other, like they have been doing nonstop for the last 6 months or so.  Lintilla called, and started in on me like she has for the past couple of months.  The doctors will not let her take hormone replacement therapy, and she’s been wildly emotional for quite a while now.  I know it’s not her fault, but it’s tough being on the receiving end of it all the time., with everything else going on.

Folks.

I had a meltdown.

My mind simply refused to allow any more stress into it, so it just shut down.

I’ve have a really weird habit since I was a kid: when folks I love are upset or mad, I cook, clean, and do laundry.  I’ve been doing a lot of this lately - but the people in my household are still constantly upset.  Like my mother, I’m wired so that my happiness is directly tied to the happiness of the people I love.  I’ve run myself ragged trying to will three people (whose hormones are all out of whack) into happiness.  And I’m making myself miserable in the process.  See what’s wrong with this picture?

I’m stretched so thin, you can see through me.

And I feel guilty for feeling this way, because I know many have it far worse than I do. 

Funny, my mom absolutely lost her mind when she was about my age - and I’m just like her.

So anyway - I can’t go on like this indefinitely.  I can’t do ALL of the housework, and all of the cooking, and be responsible for the happiness of each member of the household, and be ‘the man’ at work, and fully devote myself to band and church and ministry, and play peacemaker to every friend and family member, hell, every person on the planet.  There just isn’t enough me.  I have to draw some lines.

So, I need to take a step back, to find a way to undo my wiring that causes me to be depressed when any member of my family or any of my friends is anything but happy, to finally get the kids to help around the house, to tell church, or the band, or my kids’ school every now and then that I just can’t make some event or other without feeling guilty.

I can go forward this way or that way, but what I cannot do is continue going the way I was going.

That’s what I meant.

On a happier note: Warrior is home already!  6 days in the hospital - it’s a miracle.  How can I be upset in the face of that?  I’ll post more on that tomorrow.

Sorry about the vague post earlier.  I hate those.  I hope I’ve cleared some things up.

Dear Life, You Win

There are two things I am absolutely sure of.

1) In all of history, there has only been one person capable of absorbing all the pain and troubles of the world and making everything right.

2) I’m not Him.

I need to do some thinking.

Bravo, Kevin

He doesn’t have comments enabled so I can’t tell him at his place, but this post by Kevin (the Homeless Guy) is outstanding.  A sample:

People in this part of the country can be deeply biblically religious, and they will either give thanks to God for being spared from the storm’s devastation, believing their faith saved them, or they will call on God for the strength to carry on after suffering greatly, as the storm devastated their lives.  There will be some who will lose their faith in God because He did not protect them, as they felt He should.  And, they may chose to no longer believe in God, and may carry a heart of anger towards God for the rest of their lives. 

But, is any of this really about God?   Is it really about us humans?   Do the natural forces of our planet act against our immoral tendencies?   God is sometimes said to be capricious - that there is no rhyme or reason to His actions.  But perhaps that is because we give God too much credit for what happens in our lives.  Do we succeed because God likes us?  Do we win against others in the competitions of life because God prefers us to others?

This is deep stuff, and many clergy struggle with these questions.  As I read the entire post, I found myself nodding along.  I have some minor quibbles on some of the theological aspects, along with a couple of philosophical questions (I think mankind is at once insignificant and of greatest importance to God -that whole triune things gets people every time).  But that doesn’t take away from how profound and eloquent Kevin’s post is.  Go read it.

On a related note, y’all (and you know who you are), LAY OFF the Union students!!!!  They are mere kids, they just survived a traumatic event most of us will never have to go through, and they are trying to make sense of it all.  Let’s discuss the philosophical ramifications of their saying that God was “with them and protected them” some other time.  I think criticising these kids,at this time, is of the suck.  Like you were some great philosophical and theological mind at 20 years old.  Give them a little leeway.  Later, ‘k?

Storms A-Comin’

But He replied to them, “When it is evening, you say, ‘It will be fair weather, for the sky is red.’

“And in the morning, ‘There will be a storm today, for the sky is red and threatening.’ Do you know how to discern the appearance of the sky, but cannot discern the signs of the times? ” - Matthew 16:2-3 (NASB)

I have an 11 year old boy and a 10 year old girl.  At our house, there is change coming.  You can feel it in the air.

Subtle changes are occurring in our kids’ bodies.  Parts growing, other parts, er, sprouting (or so I’ve been told).  My little girl just got over her first bout with acne.  A friend took a long look at her the other day and said, “Her face is changing; it’s becoming less child-like”.

But there’s one thing that tells Lintilla and I we’re in for a bumpy ride.

The moodiness.  Oh, the moodiness!

Last night, we had sulking, we had tears, we had fights, we had screaming, we had the silent treatment.  And this was just at church.  Both of our children, up till now so well behaved and intelligent, seem to have gone insane literally overnight.

Our house suddenly has a tension in the air I’ve never felt before.  They are good kids, but one can’t help but feel we are on the edge of a blowup or a meltdown, or both.

Oh, and we’re dealing with the emotional swings of menopause at the same time.

I’m told that the fun part hasn’t even started yet.  Oh, goodie.  It’s a tough way to live, this highly emotional state, all the time.  I now understand the impulse to get the doctor to give the kids a pill to make all of this stop.  It’s pretty tiring.

But, this is normal.  I was talking with Ford and his wife the other day; they have teens, and they believe that God arranges things so that when it’s time for the kids to leave the house, everybody in that house is eager to see it happen.

We aren’t there yet, but there are signs on the horizon.

Laying Out Gate Clothes

I am in the middle of writing a song for the soon-to-be-recorded X-Alt CD (tentatively titled “Funky Shui”).  I’m having a really hard time finishing it, because it’s so different from most Christian music, and it’s such a different perspective than the one I usually put forth.

On its surface, it is not an optimistic song at all.  It is not written from the mountain top, looking back with thanksgiving over the recently travelled valley.  It is a song written from deep inside the valley.

It is one step short of despair.  It makes the listener ache.

The song is more about a mood than any one thing.  I put myself inside the minds of the prisoners we visit.  I’m writing from the perspective of my friends who have dire medical situations.  I’m writing from the point of view of my brothers - one has a degenerative muscle disease that has been stealing his strength since he was 17, the other just got laid off by an employer he served for 27 years.  I even borrowed from our own money situation (up until last week); savings gone, no more coming in.

Mostly, I was inspired by the story of Sascha Weinzheimer (as told in Ken Burns’ documentary The War).  In short, she was a girl roughly my own daughter’s age in 1942, part of a wealthy family who owned a sugar plantation near Manila when the Japanese took over.  She ended up, with the rest of her family,  in the internment camp the Japanese set up on the walled campus of the Santo Tomas University.  There, her life slowly descended into Hell. After almost 3 years, they were finally rescued by the 1st Cavalry Division on February 3, 1945.

I won’t totally recount her story here, in fact, I’d like you go to this site,  and read the chronological excerpts from her diary. It truly is compelling.  I’ll wait for you.

Two excerpts that appear back-to-back stand out to me:

January 12.
People are dying every day from starvation. Fred Fairman and Mrs. Everett yesterday. We have such a short time to go ““ what a pity they couldn’t hang on to life just a while longer. Mother weighs only 73 pounds ““she used to weigh 148 ““ and Dr. Allen says she has to stay in bed from now because she can’t walk.

…

January 17.

Buddy’s favorite expression is, “Let’s talk about food.” He has a favorite suit, too, which he calls his “Gate suit.” He’s been taking this suit out almost every day for months, putting it on the bed and saying, “I’ll put my Gate things right here Mummy, so I can be ready.” All of us have something saved to wear out the Gate. All of us except Daddy who has been bare-footed now for six months. “I don’t need a thing for the Gate except two good legs to walk out with,” he said.

“what a pity they couldn’t hang on to life just a while longer.”

“All of us have something saved to wear out the Gate.”

This is the place I’m writing the song from.

On second thought, this might be the most optimistic song I’ve ever written.  It’s about that moment when you are chained to the floor, when everything in the universe has lined up against you, and you can see no way out.

Yet, you defiantly believe there is a way out, nonetheless.

The Universe tells you to curse God and die.  Against all hope, you lay a suit out on the bed.

I think this is going to be a pretty good song.  I hope to get it completed soon.  Going to that place is a little draining.

Prayers For Warrior

Please pray for my friend Mark (who comments here as Warrior).  He got some awfully bad health news today (I don’t want to get more specific unless he says it’s OK).  Just know it’s pretty rough.

He’s had a pretty tough time healthwise for many, many years, but he’s made of sturdy stuff, and he has the prayers of many friends and loved ones to strengthen him.

But all your prayers and good thoughts are much appreciated.

Steer Clear

I am in a foul, foul mood today.

For some reason, this seems to be “snarky condescension day”, at work, at home, and on the blogs.

There’s been a problem with Lintilla’s application for disability.  The doctor’s office filled out their part, and was trying to be helpful, and faxed the form directly to the insurance company. Only problem is, Lintilla’s employer had not yet filled out their part.  So, we have to start all over again.  Long story short, we’re minus one income for a while.  Starting now.  And the emergency fund is going fast.

But, enough about that.

I’m tired. X-Alt had a 4-hour rehearsal last night, and tonight looks like it’ll be at least 5.

It’s a grey day, and my head is cloudy because I didn’t have enough time to sleep off last night’s Ambien.

I know I’m no bundle of joy right now.  Give me a while, and I’ll be back to my usual, bubbly self.

Blessed

Today has been the first time in a while that we’ve been able to just stop.  Lintilla came home from the hospital yesterday morning (FINALLY). We mostly spent today hanging around the house, watching a very disappointing football game, and goofy TLC programming, and having long talks - the kind we haven’t really had in a long time.  We’ve been in crisis mode for about three weeks, and the time we had for reflection today brought us to a single conclusion:

We are blessed.  Beyond measure.

How do you respond to the knowledge that someone would just drop everything, and come and get your kids when they can’t be in school, but can’t really be at the hospital?  What can you say when folks volunteer to help sit with your wife in her hospital room while you run much-needed errands?  Can a man not feel like George Bailey when people come out of the woodwork to bring dinner, or send flowers, or visit?

People who attend churches that believe in showing the love of Christ know this earthly form of blessed assurance: that loved ones, and people you don’t even know, will be there to catch you when you fall.  We are doubly blessed (with apologies to Meatloaf) in that we have two: we have a church family at Belle Meade UMC, and another at New Beginnings Fellowship.  We had four, count ‘em four pastors or church staff come to visit (multiple times).  And, we have a (very big) family in X-Alt.  Not to mention your thoughts and prayers (and visits, and flowers).

We are not totally out of the woods yet.  Lintilla still hurts, but she’s a tough bird, tougher than me, for sure.  We’re most likely going to have to cancel this year’s vacation - we’re using up all of Lintilla’s time.  She cannot be declared cancer-free until 5 years have passed.  The money is about to get VERY tight. 

But, the outlook is great.  The chances are now as good as they ever were that I’ll have Lintilla by my side for a long, long time. 

To feel the arms of Christ wrapped around you in rough times is a blessing indeed.  I cannot praise Him enough.  Nor can I thank you enough.  To all our friends and family, to BMUMC, to New Beginnings, to X-Alt, to all our blogging friends, to my very flexible employer and all the friends I have there, and to the all the folks we’ve never met who nevertheless prayed for us, we have unending gratitude.

It’s impossible to express the depth of joy and gratitude I feel for the love we’ve felt. I’m not doing it justice, I’m afraid.  All I can do is work that much harder to pass it along.  I have every intention of doing just that.

World AIDS Day

Today is World Aids Day.  Let us have the utmost compassion on those afflicted with this horrible disease, and do what we can to blunt their suffering, and search for a cure.