God knows what He is doing.

No matter how much we think we want to change it, God's will always shows us the best way. It has been two weeks and three days since my dad's spirit left this earth. Looking back, I can tell you that there were signs that he was ready to go all along our journey to his death.
When he entered the ICU on August 4th, my dad never saw the date on the dry erase board. It was supposed to have been changed every day with the new date and the name of the nurse for the day. It was August 4th and the date on the board was July 22, 2010, which was his 62nd birthday.
After he was transferred to the multiple myeloma floor, he became increasingly uncomfortable. I got really upset and began the process of getting him transferred to hospice as soon as possible. I remember my mom and the pastor of their church saying that my dad locked eyes with my mom and held up his arm and gave the "I love you" sign in sign language. Also noteworthy was that anytime the three of us went to talk to him, tears came out of both sides of his eyes. I'd like to think that was a meaningful gesture instead of a physical response.
The morning he slipped away, my aunt had stayed the night with him, refusing to allow us to stay at the hospital that night because we were so exhausted. The phone rang at our house at 5:48am. I got the phone, but didn't answer because I didn't recognize the name. I went back to bed and the phone rang again two minutes later and it was my uncle's phone. He told me that dad had passed away. I immediately called the number back and got the nurse who was on call that night. My aunt had used the nurse's phone to call us because hers had died. She told us that she called the nurse to have him suctioned and repositioned and as she was closing the door behind the nurse as she was leaving, she heard him take a light breath and he was gone. She said she looked out the window and there was a beautiful pink sunrise in front of her.
We were mourning on our way to the hospital and it had not rained in days. As soon as we left the house, it began to pour angrily. As we neared Little Rock, the rain began to subside and we too, saw the sunrise. I think it is quite fitting that God chose to take him three short hours before his transfer to hospice, which he would have hated.
I have always believed in signs and I am sure that I missed many that I was too upset to see. But the point is that God knew what he wanted for my dad and I am at peace with the events that took place. My dad's death has brought much pain, but has also been a catalyst for new and better relationships with his side of our family, which my dad would have loved. It has also been the blessing and answer for our concern for our mother, who is actually happily beginning a new chapter in her life.
My sisters and I are just sad. We miss him terribly. I am sorry for people who will never know him because he was so good. He was just such a unique person. He was good and kind and had too many lives to count. I don't think I have grieved for him yet. I am consumed with handling matters of his death, my mom, my family, my job. That doesn't leave a lot of time for the grieving process.
I will grieve in my own time and we will all learn something from the last nine years of pain and disappointment. He is happy and with God. He is watching us and laughing at the mess he left at home that the three of us have to sort through and clean up. Somehow, I knew it would happen that way. And I'm ok with it.

To know you are loved eases your pain.

I am overwhelmed by the outpouring of support that our family has received since my dad had his stroke on Tuesday. It was a severe left-sided CVA, which affected the part of his brain that controls speech and language. He is still mostly unresponsive and we are not sure about his prognosis yet.

Initially I wanted to just ask for prayer, but this support has evolved into an amazing testament to what an amazing man my dad is. My sisters, family and I are a united front that has only his best interest at heart. Even though decisions may be tough for us, his well-being is our number one priority.

Please continue to remember him in your prayers by asking God to show us His will, whatever that may be. And know that we are extremely moved by all of the prayers offered to us during this difficult time.

Life is so unpredictable.

I was at work this morning when my sister called and said they thought my dad had a stroke. He was rushed to the hospital and is in the ICU as we speak. I guess I always knew this would happen, but it just kind of stops your breath for a minute when it actually does.

He was diagnosed about nine years ago. At the time, his cancer (myeloma) gave him a life expectancy of about 18 months. Since that time, he has undergone countless rounds of chemo, has had two bone marrow transplants, and has been to the ERs and hospitals around the southeast for various related illnesses. Sadly, he has also witnessed the death of his father, father-in-law, and the unfortunate accident of his wife, which has caused a permanent change in their relationship.

On the other hand, he has seen all of his daughters get married, has known and enjoyed three grandchildren, and has found peace in a slower paced kind of life that has not included dentistry, continuing education, and orthodontia. We all, literally, just returned from a vacation at the beach, one which seemed to be very pleasant for both mom and dad, if not a little stressful for everyone else. He seemed to be in really good spirits and interacted with the kids more than I have ever seen.

So, I'm changing out William's insulin pump tonight. I fill the chamber with insulin, prime the tubing, and get the sterile pads ready. Then, I pull out the old pump site, clean the new area and get ready to stick the needle in his behind. I just had to stop for a minute and realize how unfair this all seems. My son is getting his insulin pump changed out every three days, my dad is unresponsive after a stroke, my mom can't comprehend what is happening and I am about to start a new year of school in a few days, except that I am heading to Arkansas to help make decisions for my parents.

Now, I realize that everyone has their "stuff," but if seems that some people get more "stuff" than others. All of these things that have happened have caused such stress and unhappiness in our lives. Eventually, one has to ask why. I can only say that there has to be a good reason.

My dad is such a good guy. He doesn't deserve this. I'd like to think that I'm a good person too and that the people I love don't deserve these things. William certainly doesn't deserve what he has experienced in his short life.

Maybe I just need to feel sorry for myself for a minute or I need to vent. Maybe I just need to document these feelings so that I remember them when I am old. Whatever my reason for writing right now, there has to be something good that comes from these situations. I don't know what they yet, but there has to be.

Running in weather with a heat index of 105 is good stress relief.

I have entered a time in my life when stress is at the forefront of most major events in my life. It seems that the older I get, the more I am plagued with situations I can't control and that pain me to experience. Even vacations, which are planned to "get away from it all and relax," tend to offer a few minor or major traumas that make vacations a little less than relaxing.

Take kids, for example. Travelling with children today is a recipe for stress. Going on vacation without your significant other with said children is just plain scary. I think I am used to sharing the burden of being a mom with a husband who is a hands-on dad and always makes my job easier...well usually. When by myself, I am more irritable, concerned for their well-being, and I can't really let myself unwind, especially with William. His illness is not urgent or terminal, but it is constant and it is so hard to be constantly watchful by myself when I'm used to sharing the load.

So, I got home today after leaving Fripp at 7am to get the boys home early enough to spend time with John after being gone for a week. Once home, I couldn't relax and kept pacing the house. So, I decided a run was in order. Maybe not the smartest idea at 2:30pm on one of the hottest days in July, but I really needed to run, sweat, and expend energy.

About halfway through the run/walk (because who am I kidding? It was 100 today,) I felt this huge surge of emotions and energy leaving my body. I walked harder and sweated more. It felt good and when I got home, I was fine.

I say all of this to recognize that I have had many, many, many big stressors in my life, some at a young age. To identify a way to relieve some of what is physiological, as well as psychological has been very helpful in my quest to come to terms with unfair situations.

I think if I were to be still for too long, I would explode.

Panty lines happen to good people.

I didn't know which topic I would discuss today. It was a toss-up between panty lines and inconsiderate people. While I was trying to decide, I was watching an episode of SVU and one of the witnesses didn't remember a woman's face, but he remembered her panty line because she had a nice $#@. So...there it was. The topic du jour was decided.

Ahhh, panty lines. Never has there been a more obvious social faux pas. Really, though, there is no excuse. That's why we have friends.

Take a normal woman who goes to work. She is somewhat socially conscious and is mildly fashionable. Heck, she might not give a hill of beans about fashion. So, our woman puts on a really cute top, a cute pair of pants and fabulous shoes. Sadly, though, when she walks away, you can tell the size, cut, and color of her underwear. The whole outfit is effectively ruined. Does she know? Is she hoping no one can tell? Surely she knows.

Now, I realize that this topic might seem incredibly shallow. It probably is. But, can you honestly tell me that you haven't noticed someone walking in front of you with a huge panty line? I'm not talking size here either, because there are all sizes of women and they are all beautiful in their own ways. But even then, do we want to see their underwear?

I must confess that I'm not totally innocent in this situation. I, believe it or not, am guilty of going out of my home knowingly having a somewhat obvious panty line. I was the woman who was hoping that my outfit choice did not give away the fact that I had gained a few pounds and therefore, my pants were a little tight; hence, my panty line. I know, I know. It's tragic, but panty lines happen to good people, too.

That's why we should always depend on our friends. You tell that size 2 friend that she should not go out in pants that show her whale tail. You tell that size 12 friend that she really should not wear those tightish linen pants that fit last season, but clearly not this season. You especially tell that teenager that she can't go out of the house with her visible thong above her incredibly tight jeans.

We should look out for each other and unite against panty lines. They can be prevented so that we protect the integrity of our girlfriends.

L

We don't have time for our elderly.

I took Thomas today to see Mr. Quinn's body and pay our respects to Mrs. Quinn. Mrs. Quinn is absolutely devastated and honestly does not know what to do, but has been at the funeral home day in and day out to greet everyone who takes the time to come and visit her beloved husband.

It was difficult for Thomas, I could tell. He was very quiet and clung close to me. Mrs. Quinn did everything she could to make him comfortable. She lit incense for us and let us talk to his picture. Then he led us to Mr. Quinn. He was laid out in his uniform with all the things that he loved nestled around him. His extra pairs of glasses because he was always losing them, Sharpies because he would only write with them, Thin Mints, Jolly Ranchers, and bundles of 100 dollar bills. We paid our respects and were ushered into the kitchen where one of Mrs. Quinn's sisters insisted, "We are all family and you will stay and eat with us."

Later, we went back for the demonstration and were approached by one of Mrs. Quinn's brothers. He said that he was one of 10 kids in their family. Nine of them lived in Atlanta to "surround their mother." The other sibling was still in Vietnam. The other elderly relatives at the funeral were treated with the utmost respect.

Flashback a few weeks ago. I took the boys to meet a man whom I have known all my life. He and his wife were role models in our church and I remember them being present for most major events in my life, my sisters' lives, and other young people in our church's lives. Many years ago they sold their home and moved to an assisted living home. His wife died a few years back and I thought he had as well. He seemed old even when I was a teenager.

I took the boys to visit him. Surely he would remember me and would like a welcome reprieve from what I would assume was just another day. He was there and we were led to his room. He was asleep on a small bed in the corner of a double room and looked exactly the same, except with a little more unruly hair and less one front tooth. He was awakened by the nurse and was disoriented. I tried to talk to him, but he couldn't see well or hear. I wrote my name on a legal pad and showed it to him and for a moment, there was the recognition of my face. I tried introducing the boys to him, but he wasn't able to comprehend what was happening. We left there with many questions and I left sad.

I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't that. How could this man who had been so constant in my life be a little old man in a nursing home? Why was he there? What do I want for my family and myself when we are in that situation?

We are so busy. Our lives don't allow for the slow deterioration of a life that is ending. We have our work, our kids' sports, our own commitments.

It was just hard. Seeing Mr. Gannaway, seeing Mrs. Quinn mourn the loss of her love, and trying to explain these hard life lessons to two little boys who look to mom and dad to answer hard questions. Because there will be hard times that they will experience. Sooner, rather than later.

So, I will humble myself and ensure that I make the most of the time I have with those I love. I will try to help make the right decisions for them, not what is the most convenient or cost-effective. And I will try to make time for those to whom we should be seeking for guidance in how to live a good life. They are the ones who have the advice and the stories and the knowledge.

L

I don't like acrylic nails.

I don't know why I don't like acrylic nails. Isn't that sad? Clearly there is a market for them and many women love them, but I don't. Maybe it's because it is very obvious that they are not real. Maybe it's because I have had them once and know what it involves to keep them looking nice or maybe it's because people seem to get them for major events and then let them go. For whatever reason, it seems a colossal waste of time and money to pay for something that is going to need constant care and repeat treatments.

Speaking of repeat treaments, waxing is something that I like and I can't figure out why I hold it to a higher standard than acrylic nails. I guess I would rather not have a unibrow or eyebrows with tons of stray hairs underneath than to have beautiful fingernails.

Being a woman in this society is so tiring. If you're not worrying about your nails, then you're worrying about your eyebrows. If not your eyebrows, then it's your toes. If not your toes, then it's your hair. Don't even get me started on the amount of money one could spend on hair care: Especially when I have recently realized my hair is not a light brown-blondish anymore.

I used to have the lightest hair, eyebrows and eyelashes. Throughout the years, my hair has become darker, but my need to maintain my hair color has not wained. So what do I get? I get great highlights on the front of my head and really dark hair (my true hair) in the back. Maybe I should go to full foils and jack my price at the salon up 25% more. I think not.

Secretly, though, I really just want to be myself. I think I will keep waxing my eyebrows, getting my hair cut, and getting pedicures because it makes me happy. As for my nails, any money I spend on them will be negated the next day due to my tendancy to be a clumsy oaf. I think I will become a natural brunette, instead of an obviously highlighted blond, and I will try to remember that there is still a place for beauty on the inside.

I will give in to coloring my grays a subtle brunette, though. That will be acceptable.

L