Overwhelmed

This week has been a difficult one. Wednesday, I became really ill and had to take Thursday and Friday off work. I really had quite a scare - one that I am still trying to understand.

Thankfully, I have officially recovered, I'm just behind on EVERYTHING! My life is comprised of a serious juggling act to ensure that I am able to stay on top of everything.

• Schoolwork - I don't know if I posted that I started an online MBA program about two weeks ago. I have been trying to catch up for the past two days. I'm not stressing about it, I just had to accept the fact that some of my assignments are going to be late.
• Work work - this is my last week of work before two glorious weeks of vacation. Nevertheless, I have deadlines to meet that have not been met.
• Housework - the never ending saga of my life.
• Blogging - all of my blogs have fallen behind with no updated posts.
• And finally, my Etsy shop. I've not made any new hats, mittens, hair or accessories. Absolutely NADA!

My poor family! I think I have slept most of the last few days. I am just glad they know how much I love them.

Nevertheless...

I better run. Today is bath day for Muddear and we are going to take her to see Walter today. At some point, I can get to at least one of the things listed above.

Response to Anonymous

Anonymous said...
"Dear Nikki,I don't know how you do it but you manage to find the funny in the everyday. I admire your spirit. Thanks for sharing."
December 10, 2007 11:56:00 PM EST

Anonymous,

I am a very happy person by nature. I love to laugh...the more often the better. Sometimes it gets me in trouble, because I have been guilty of laughing at inappropriate times. (Ask my husband.)

Seriously, being able to find "the funny" in the everyday is what has enabled me to continue to care for my grandmother and other family members. Especially during difficult times. Sometimes life is hard, but God and laughter help me hurdle over "life's bumps" with ease.

Thanks for your continued support.

"Our mouths are filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy...The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy." Psalm 126:2-3

Visiting Walter

I took Muddear to visit Walter last night at St. Elizabeth Hospital. It was very difficult for her to see him lying in the hospital bed, extremely ill, and unable to speak.

On several occasions Muddear managed to wheel her chair next to the bed, stand up, and kiss Walter. It was heartbreaking. Throughout the visit she would try to wake him up, because she kept forgetting that he was sedated and not allowed to wake. This was most difficult for me...Muddear seemed to forget what the hospital staff explained about Walter's current condition. About every 10 minutes or so, she would ask... "Now tell me, what's his condition?" The follow up question would always be, "Do you think he is going to pull out of this?" Then she would tell them how God was going to bless them for taking care of her baby. This line of questioning continued for about 3 hours and Muddear became increasingly sad after each answer.

About midway through our visit, Muddear decided she wanted to leave Walter a letter. Muddear dictated while I took notes. Then made sure the nurse placed the letter in Walter's chart when we left. Muddear wanted to make sure that when he awoke, he knew that she had been there.

I am glad I took Muddear to see dad. Life is so uncertain, but I continue to believe God for the best.

Irony

This weekend was a little rough with Muddear. Overall she wasn't fussy or irate, just somewhat needy. Unfortunately, I needed some time to myself and found it difficult to achieve a suitable balance. Especially on Sunday - I cooked Muddear breakfast and lunch, dispensed medications, cleaned my house, folded and put away laundry, bathed and dressed Muddear as well as pressed and combed her hair. At this point I was exhausted, however, I still had to cook dinner. The good thing was it was only 2:30 and I was not going to begin dinner until 4:30 - this was a great opportunity to take a nap. I am not a cat-napper, so when I decide to take a nap I get in the bed and sleep for at least an hour and a half.

I usually try to have open conversations with Muddear, so I explained that I was tired and was going to lie down for awhile. After curling up on my bed, I quickly fell asleep only to be awakened by Muddear calling me.

"Muddear, what do you need?"
"Can you hand me my [oxygen] cord?"
"Yes, Muddear."

I wanted to scream, instead I handed Muddear the cord and quickly returned to my room. I dozed off only to be awakened again by Muddear calling me.

"Muddear, what do you need?"
"Can you fix my [oxygen] cord?"
"There is nothing wrong with it."
"Oh, I didn't know that. Go on back to sleep."

My sanity was slowly slipping, so I quietly walked away and attempted to go back to sleep. About 30 minutes into my "nap" Muddear was calling me again.

"Muddear, what? What do you need."
"I need you to move my housecoat out of my wheelchair."
After moving the housecoat, Muddear grabbed my hand, kissed it, and saying..."Thank you baby, now go back and get some rest."

I wanted to say, I would love to get some rest, but because you continue to call me every 20 to 30 minutes taking a nap has become impossible. Instead I went into the kitchen and started cooking dinner. But the story doesn't end here...

When it was time to eat, I fixed Muddear a plate of food and returned to her room. I admit I felt like an irritable toddler who missed her nap and I was probably giving off bad vibes. Therefore, when I handed Muddear her plate, I was surprised when she asked me if we could talk, because in her words, "I can tell something is not right with you."

"Muddear, I am just really tired, that's all."

At which point Muddear proceeded to LECTURE me on the importance of getting my rest. Oh, the irony of it all!

Times Have Changed

On Tuesday night, Mike and I were watching the 2007 BET (Black Entertainment Television) Awards show. I decided to wheel Muddear into my bedroom, much to her chagrin, so that she could sit and watch the Awards Show with us. I did not want her to spend the evening alone. During one of the performances, Muddear asked an unexpected question.

"As a rule, they usually don't allow coloreds on television do they?"

At first, Mike thought she was talking about color television, to which I quickly interjected by whispering, "No Mike, she is talking about Black people."

"Oh... Muddear, times have changed. Today, Black people are allowed to be on television."
Muddear thoughtfully responded with a simple, "Oh, okay."

Muddear has experienced in her lifetime more than I could ever imagine. Honestly, in this instance, things I never want to imagine. It is easy to forget...

Family Hands

After reading Grandma's hands, I took pictures of the hands of my family. As we grow older, I would like to hold on to the memories connected with these hands. See Muddear, Nikki, Mariah, and Mike Jr. Somehow, I lost the picture of the hands of Mike Sr. - he will be forthcoming.

Grandma's Hands

Grandma, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. She didn't move, just sat with her head down staring at her hands. When I sat down beside her she didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if she was OK. Finally, not really wanting to disturb her but wanting to check on her at the same time, I asked her if she was OK.

She raised her head and looked at me and smiled. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking," she said in a clear strong voice. "I didn't mean to disturb you, Grandma, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK," I explained to her.

"Have you ever looked at your hands?" she asked. "I mean really looked at your hands?" I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point she was making. Grandma smiled and related the following story:

"Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. "These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life. They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. "They held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war. They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent.! "They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special. "They wrote my letters to him and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse. They have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I did not understand. They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. "They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer. "These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of life. But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ."

I will never look at my hands the same again. God reached out and took my grandma's hands and led her home. When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and husband I think of Grandma. I know she has been held by the hands of God. And I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face.

Author Anonymous