The Peace Lily: A Story About Angels

Sixteen years ago, my mother's mother (my grandma) passed away from melanoma.  She was 56 years old.  At her funeral, a good friend of my mom's had given her this Peace Lily.  When it was first given to her, it had several blooms on it.  That was in 1995. 

My mother has never had the greenest thumb, in fact, she has killed all her other house plants through the years.  This was a tough little plant though, and it managed to survive.  However, it didn't bloom regularly.  The next time it bloomed was in 2003.  My mom counted 6 blooms.  One for each member of the family, my mom, my step-dad, myself, my little brother, step-brother and my sister Emily.  The next day, she looked at it in disappointment as she noticed there were 7 blooms, not 6 like she thought.  She assumed that she had simply miscounted the previous day.  A few days later, in some what of a panic, she discovered she was pregnant with my sister, Harley.  Emily, not even two, was planned and Harley was not.  At her age, she didn't plan on having any more kids but Harley was on her way.  A wonderful and unexpected addition to the family.

The plant didn't flower again for many years.  Not until 2006.  In fact, it bloomed, just one singular flower, on March 22, 2006.  The day I went into labor with my daughter, my mother's first grandchild. 

Yesterday tragedy hit my family.  The family dog, Hannah, who had been with us for 10 years, had to be put down.  She had a tumor on her hip and it had broken open leaving a large open wound.  There was nothing they could do for her.  My step-father was out of town so my mother undertook not only the overwhelming task of taking care of Hannah by herself but having to console her two little girls. 

Harley was especially shaken up.  Hannah was her best friend.  From the time Harley could move, her and that dog were basically attached.  First, it was Harley following Hannah and as Harley grew, Hannah began to follow her everywhere.  She protected her.  She protected the whole family, barking like crazy when cars drove by my mother's rural home, chasing away the neighbor dogs and whatever wild animals wandered onto the property. 

It was a sad day for everyone.  Goose and I went to spent time with my mom and sisters, to help comfort them.  We talked about Hannah (who happened to be my dog, Molly's mother) and how she wouldn't hurt anymore and that her and Molly would be in Heaven together.  We all went to the craft store and bought supplies to make a memorial stone for Hannah's grave.  Then we went back home and sadness lingered in the air all around us.

Then I saw it. 

 The Peace Lily and a single, solitary bloom. 

Back when my mother first discovered she was pregnant with Harley, I mused that the blooms were a sign from my grandma that she was still with us and watching over her.  My mom, who is not religious and less spiritual than I, shrugged it off.  But when the bloom appeared on the day I went into labor, despite all her skepticism, she thought there might be something special about that plant.  And if there was any doubt in her mind, it was all erased when we say the bloom yesterday.

As soon as I saw it, I burst into tears.  I ran to my mother's side and we embraced, crying.  It seems to me, that in every moment when a woman might need her mother's comfort, an unexpected pregnancy, the birth of the first grandchild, a sad passing of a dear friend... my grandma was there.  My mother's guardian angel. 

I'm sure there is a logical, scientific explanation for why it blooms so sporadically. Lack of sunlight. Improper watering. My mom's brown thumb.  But in my heart, deep in my soul, I know that it's my grandma giving my mom a sign that she is still there. 

I believe that we all have angels looking over us.  Sometimes they give us tangible signs of their presence, you just need to know where to look.  And hopefully, you're mind is open enough to see it. 

Rest In Peace

Hannah

2001-2011

Little Miracles (Lost and Found)

Steve and I were finally able to get into the old house this weekend.

Seeing the devastation first hand was pretty overwhelming.

My craft room was in the living room - it used to be the attic.

Ribbons and papers, singed and melted and burned, littered the floor.

But we went into the bedrooms and dug around in the soot and ash.

There were no lights so Hubs was using a lighter and I had my cell phone.

In Goose's room, in her closet, Steve found her time capsule.

I was convinced it was in storage upstairs.

He found it.

The box was completely black, and some of the contents were melted.

But the letters, the cards, the irreplacable keepsakes, they were all okay.

It was in a cardboard box I covered in contact paper.

If not for the contact paper, I'm sure it would have burned.

Next,

I found Goose's baby china.  The bag was falling apart. The box they were packed in was chared. But the china, still wrapped in untouched white tissue paper, was safe. 

::happydance::

Then we went into our bedroom.

Man, that was hard. 

But my nightstand, though badly burned, was still standing.

Hope.

Steve kicked in the drawers and I found two small jewlry boxes, both blackened.

But the jewelry inside?

My pearl earrings from my dad, my grandma's ring, the first ring Hubs ever gave me, and one half of the second pair of diamond earrings from Hubs... (I'm not allowed to have any more diamond earrings.  I lose them) all untouched.

Even my jewlry box on top of my nightstand was still standing, though not intact.

I picked up the disintigrating pile that was my jewelry box and took it out side.

I was surprised that I actually found many things untouched.

The coral and diamond ring that my Great-grandmother from Japan gave me when we visited my senior year of high school.  The coral was blackened, but it cleaned up well.

For my first Mother's day, my mother in law made an imprint of Goose's hand the day she was born and cast it in silver. 

They were safe.

And in the bathroom, in the ashes, I even found a couple of charms from Goose's charm bracelet.  My mom bought her a bracelet and has been buying her charms for it.  I didn't find them all, but considering how terrible the bathroom looked, I am thankful to find what I did. 

It's so amazing to me, that many of the possessions we were so upset about losing were found, and safe, undamaged no less. 

I continue to feel so blessed and lucky.

I thank everyone who has reached out to help us.

I don't think there are enough words to say how much.

God has smiled on us and he is giving us some bright spots to get through this hard time.

So very many thanks.

I don't care about the things I lost, I care about the things I have.

ETA - Also, while unpacking, I found the Rad Jacket and my angel collection.

I'm finding lots of other random, less important stuff as I unpack.

Once we are done unpacking, I'm sure I will be hit by the full magnitude of what was lost.

But for now, it's time to take it day by day and just be thankful for every breath we take.

Lucky

I can't stop feeling so lucky and blessed by this whole situation.

Maybe it sounds strange.

*source*

If you are a regular reader, you know I have been trying to find my faith, struggling with the meaning of it all. Looking for answers. I don't know what I was expecting to find, but I wasn't finding it. At least, I didn't think I was.

This might sound weird, but I feel lucky that this fire happened to us. It could happen any time, to anyone and it happened to us Monday morning.  And I am so thankful it wasn't someone else.  I guess, if your house is going to go up in flames, it really couldn't have happened at a better time.  Yes, there were valubles lost, but nothing that can't be replaced.  I'm sad about the computers and the photos, but I'm thankful I blog. Because I have so many pics saved on my blog and on Photobucket. 

It could happen to anyone and it didn't, it happened to us.  We weren't there. Our important possessions were out of the house. We made it out with a lot more than just the clothes on our backs. And if the worst of the situation is that we lost everything in the kitchen and some electronics, I say that's pretty good. 

We also have such an amazing support system around us.  Steve's parents, my parents, friends have all stepped up to give us a hand in any way possible.  We have a roof over our heads. 

I keep thinking about the events leading up to us moving out and I know things were meant to be. 

We weren't supposed to be there.

In the begining of April I first saw our new house.  I took a picture on my cell phone, told Steve I wanted to move and called the landlord the next day. A few days later, we were looking at the place and putting down a deposit.  When we signed the lease, the landlord told us she had recieved so many calls on the property.  They had even shown it to one other family who desperately wanted it, but we got there first.  And it was ours. 

We got the keys on May 15th and were supposed to be out of our old place on the 31st.  We spent nearly all of last weekend packing and moving, Goose stayed with Grandma.  Saturday night was the first time we had slept at the new house.  Sunday, Hubs and I debated whether or not we should sleep at the old house or new house.  Our beds were in the old house, but most of our stuff was in the new house. 

We decided to sleep on couches.

We stopped at the old house Sunday night for a few minutes. Grabbed Goose's books, bathroom stuff for us, phone chargers.  Just the necessary stuff for the next day.  Both Steve and I made a sweep of the house and made sure everthing was turned off and unplugged.  Then, we left. For the last time. We were there not even 15 minutes. 

And now, it all seems so clear.  What I was doing wrong, in my life and my expectations.  I know that God was talking to me and I just didn't know what to listen for.  Except, that it's very easy to see now that I was listening and taking his direction.

We weren't supposed to be there.

And because I followed my gut. 

Because I wanted the new house.

We weren't there.

We also get a chance to start over. Start fresh. Re-evaluate, re-assess, and re-prioritize. Decisions we didn't want to make were made for us in that instant and we are forced to start over.  I feel kind of like the Phoenix (Marvel geek reference) rising from the flames.  Not many people get to start over like this. It's a little liberating, I must say.  The clutter of our former selves is gone, with room to start fresh.

I no longer question the road I need to take.

I see it now.

Clearly.

It seems so simple, so easy.

But I wasn't ready before.

And now, I am.

Exceptionally Bad Days

"I have been driven many times to my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go."

~Abraham Lincoln.

 

I've been thinking a lot about this quote.  I don't know where I originally read it, but its been stuck in my head.  I have spent a lot of time on my knees lately.  Mainly due to throwing up and panic attacks. All this moving and Craft x NW has me super stressed out.  And I don't handle stress all that great to begin with. 

 

I find myself asking "Why?" and coming up empty handed.  Asking "What will You have me do?" as if I expect to hear a voice answer back.  I want to believe that someone is listening. I want to know my path.  I feel like I am being punished for something, and I want to make penance for my wrongs.  But how?  Can't I get an answer?

I guess I'm just feeling sorry for myself.  Going in circles through this whole process for nearly two years now and feeling no closer to a solution now than I was then.  Its a little wearing on the soul.  Mine, my family... I'm lucky to be around so many wonderful supportive people.  I know my problems are small in comparison as well, but constantly, I find myself asking "How much is enough?"

Not just for myself, but for my daughter who asks me "Are you sick?" and then tells me "I hope you feel better in the morning."

And for my husband, and for that tired look in his eyes.  I should say, tireless.  He has been a huge support for me, I don't know what I would do without him in my life.  But I know he is stressed out by it all.  I can hear it in his voice when he asks me "Is there anything I can do to make it better?" knowing I'll have nothing to say.

Is it selfish to question His plan? Even when the days seen so terrible that you would give anything to have it be over?

I know, though, that however miserable I am, I am truly blessed.  I have a husband who has stood beside me, given me strength, someone who has selflessly carried this family through some terrible situations.  I have a daughter, who despite everything, loves me with her whole heart.  She doesn't care if I am sick, she just wants to love me.  To be with me.  And that's enough for her, because some days, thats all I can give. And if she loves me anyway, then that IS a blessing.

There are just a lot of unanswered questions in my head right now. Questions I don't even know if I have the right to ask.  But questions none the less.  I guess the past week has been harder than normal and I am just having an extremely hard time dealing with it.

One Big KISS

Jackie and Bender's 9th Annual

ONE BIG KISS

for Seattle Children's Hospital

Every year, my favorite radio station has a two day radiothon to raise money for the Uncompensated Care Fund.  Which means the money donated is put into a special fund so that NO CHILD will ever be turned away for treatment, regardless of their families ability to pay.

Seattle Children's Hospital features state of the art care by some of the leading Doctors in the country.

These Doctors are so committed to their cause they treat their patients as if they were their own children.

My family has never required such care, and I hope we never do.

But...

I still give. 

$5, $10, $20.

Every year.

Whatever I can manage.

No matter how little.

Every penny helps!

I give for the children I know that are healthy.

I give for the children that are not.

The children that are missing out on their childhood.

"Such little people shouldn't have to deal with such big problems"

~KISS 106.1 Listener

So, if you can... I ask that you tune your internet radios to KISS 106.1 and listen to their inspirational, hopeful and heartbreaking stories. And if you can, GIVE!

I realize that this blog reaches a worldwide audience, so I know you may not be inclined to give to Seattle Children's.  So use this opprotunity to give to children in your area.

But also keep in mind, Seattle Children's is one of the leading children's hospitals in the country.

They have even recently opened a state of the art Autism Treatment Center.

All I'm saying, is you never know.

It could be your child.

A neice or nephew.

Cousin. Grandchild.

No one want to believe it can happen to them.

And maybe it won't.

Still...

Please give!

Here's how to donate:: <-- this link will take you to the donation site!
1.Through our secure online donation page hosted by Seattle Children's. The page walks you through the process -- it's easy!
2.Call 206-987-1061 or 1-866-987-1061 and donate to our volunteer team RIGHT NOW. We'll even read your name or your loved one's name on the air if you want us to! :-)
3.Bid on any one of our GREAT pieces of music memorabilia at our EBay Store!
 

Radiothon ends tonight at 7 p.m. PST!

PS - It is my intention/desire/hope to be able to donate some items for the Auction next year. Perhaps a custom mini album or 12x12 scrapbook. Or maybe even one of my nifty guest books. Or a memory box. Or maybe all four. It IS for a good cause, afterall!

Finding Faith

I've never been much of what you would call a "believer."

I tend to coast on over to the rational side of things.  Neither of my parents were that religious, we didn't go to church, but they were married in a Lutheran one.  They didn't expect me to conform to a specific religion, they allowed me to explore my own interests.

I remember going to a few churches in my life time, different Christian denominations, mainly with friends.    And when I was in school I went through a Wiccan/Pagan stage.  Something about the connection between us and the Earth.  Something about it being tangible.  You give back what you take, do unto others what you wish them to do onto you.  Not so different than most other religions, really.

I've always believed.

Believed in something bigger than us.
Something real.
Faith.

And I feel it stronger and stronger as I get older, especially since having a child of my own.
I especially feel the need to connect with my faith.

I read NieNie, CJane and A Love Story.
I'm not Mormon.
And yet...
I am so inspired by them.
By their faith.

I wonder what it's like to be able to fully put your faith in God.
Is it because I am too logical to believe?

I think about their struggles and how small in comparison mine feel to Nie's or Alexa's.  And I think about the way they are so thankful for God for all they were given, despite all that has been taken away. I admire their ability to still put their faith in Him despite all that he has burdened them with.

I am amazed at their ability to be thankful to God for all he has given them.
And I am envious of that faith.
I envy their relationship with God.

Before Goose,
I never cared.
Being Agnostic was fine with me.
And honestly, I don't know that I could pick one religion if I tried.

It seems to me, that all religions have the same basic moral values.
And I hate knowing how corrupt organized religion can be.

Have you ever seen Dogma?
My "idea" is something like that.

But lately, I've been feeling the need for more.
Sure I believe, but does God believe in me?

How can I over come and be thankful for the challenges God has put before me?
What can NieNie, CJane, Alexa teach me?
I study their blogs and I want to be more like them.

More devoted to my Husband.
More connected to my Child.
A better woman...
A better person.

No, I don't ever intend to change who I am.
I will forever be the foul-mouthed tom-boy in a dress and heels...
But I think it lacks meaning.

Is it because my life lacks God?
Do I need to go to Church to prove I am faithful?
Do I even have any clue what I'm talking about?

Honestly?

Not really...
I've never read the Bible...
or the Book of Morman...
or the Koran...
or anything on Judaism...
or Budhism...

Maybe that should be my Number 1 resolution (yeah, I know it's February...)
To find my faith....
It must be an educated venture. (Logical, remember?)
Maybe I should attempt to read those religious texts...
Right or wrong, I believe ALL religions have something important to teach.

And I like to think of myself, somewhat, as a student of life.

Anyone wanna help me on my journey? Email me! I wanna hear from you!!!  Tell me about your beliefs.  I would love to learn more about your faith!!!

Beautiful is not Perfect

I was REALLY inspired by this post from from Alexa on "Its a Love Story"

"So be the greatest at what your good at. And embrace the qualities you lack. Don't try to be anything you're not. There is no better person to play our part, than us. Don't waste it, Enjoy it."

I highly recommend visiting her blog and reading today's post!
You won't be disappointed!



Faith is a beautiful thing to have.

Happy Friday!