As I write this, I am experiencing a daily routine. Barkley and Duchess, our 2 year old beagle and 3 year old "chaweagle", are curled up under the blanket next to me, sleeping. We have a sitting area in our bedroom with side by side chaise lounges. This is where I read, use my computer, watch television at times, or spend my sleepless nights. But I always have companions. They know which side is theirs and they will paw and paw at the blanket until I lift it for them to come in. Any time, day or night that I sit here, they are with me. If I get up, they either wait for me here if they think I'm coming back, or they follow me around the house, hoping I will return. To say our puppies are spoiled is most likely an understatement. But loved they are. Scroll down to the end of the blog for a picture of the two of them.
Yesterday was a quiet day. Stefani is now in Phoenix, so the usual human interaction, apart from Steve, is had over the phone, on the computer or when I leave the house. Mondays have typically been days that I do not make appointments and will dig out from under, after a wild and crazy weekend. I need those quiet Mondays to prepare myself for the upcoming week. They just aren't usually that quiet. Being the introvert that I am, I am not complaining. But I do miss my Stefani! Puppies, as wonderful as they are, do not replace family. I also am without a phone for a few days, having left my phone charger in Arizona. While it is enroute by mail, I wait. Phone and computer are my lifeline to family.
This is day 5 of the fast. I was going to try and eliminate the one light meal yesterday, but, alas, I did not. Rather than chastising myself, I rejoiced in what I had. This is all a process and the first things I have noticed in this journey are my weaknesses and sinfulness. I don't say that lightly, as this is beyond uncomfortable. I certainly won't go into detail in all God is revealing and re-revealing to me. This isn't the place for that. I love Gordon's poem, Be Thou My Vision. My thoughtful Renaissance Man of a brother, put words to my feelings, as beautiful poetry will do.
I pulled up my brother Phil's sermons, and listened to one called "Pilgrimage". Again, I was in awe of what depth of thought and articulation of word was crafted.... It brought me to tears. I am privileged to call them brothers.
Many times I have wondered what my sister Connie would have been like had she lived. I know she shared Gordon's beautiful brown eyes and long, dark lashes. And from what Mom tells me,
was quiet and serious. I look hopefully to the day when we meet and I can learn her soul as well.
In the meantime, here on earth, God has blessed me with some very special friends. 3 of which I can say are my "earth" sisters. One is Wendy. She lives in Pasadena. Wendy was always laughing, always talking about or to Jesus. She loved with an unconditional, welcoming love.
She loved her husband Tony; she loved her daughter Carissa, and sons, Scott and Mark. She loved their spouses, and she loved her grandchildren. She loved my children and she loved me.
I say all this in passed tense because, although Wendy is only 61, she has early onset alzheimer's disease. She doesn't live in the home that she so beautifully decorated and maintained; she lives in a care facility. Perhaps I am saying this because we received a letter from Tony this last week. He poured his heart out about his anger, his sadness that the woman he has loved since they were teenagers, is unable to return that love. Soon she will not even recognize him.
She seldom recognizes her own children and grandchildren.
Even though there was eight years difference in our age, everywhere we went people thought we were sisters. We would laugh and just say "yes, we're sisters". Wendy and I would walk, talk and pray at Lacey Park; we would shop together, have lunch together, go garage sale-ing together. We were constantly at each others homes. We loved and prayed for each others children. We even shared Christmas together one year. Even after we moved back to Scottsdale, Wendy would make trips out to see us or I would go to see her and Tony. She challenged me in my relationship with the Lord. Her childlike love and faith always ministered to me. Over this last year, I have grieved her "death". The shell is still there, but my Wendy is gone. Tony and I have emailed back and forth some, but it always sends me into sobbing and grieving that is too painful to do very often. He says the same. So, we go on with life. But, Wendy will always be my sister.
