Of Funerals, Full Moons, Nasty Bugs and Tornadoes

Certain Man came breezing in last evening around nine o’clock.  His uncle, Joseph Beachy, passed away in Plain City, Ohio, and the funeral was yesterday morning.  CM left Friday morning around eight-thirty.  He actually spent less time in Plain City than he did on the road, if my calculations are correct.  He saw a bunch of people, ate supper at Der Dutchman with his Brother in law and sister, Ivan and Rachel Zehr, saw Youngest Daughter for a few happy hours, took in the funeral and the burial, talked to one of our “foster kids” (now grown) stopped by Yutzy’s Farm Market for some lunch meat, cheese and trail bologna, and got on his way home by 12:30pm yesterday.  He seems none the worse for wear.  And I am so glad that he is home again, I could almost dance.  Nothing seems quite right when he is gone.

The full moon casts its shadows over Our Girl Nettie these days.  I hear her rattling around in her room during the night through the room monitor.  Drawers open and shut and there is much rustling about.  Just when I think that I will need to get out of my lair and trudge down there to see what is the matter, the bed squeaks and everything is quiet again.  In the morning, she either doesn’t remember a thing or claims that she didn’t sleep at all.  This morning she lay quiet, without even her usual snoring until ten o’clock.  Then I reached in under the covers and tickled her feet to wake her up.  She seemed like she was doing pretty well, but by the time she came out for breakfast, she was walking half bent over and nearly crying.

“I jus’ cain’t make it, Mare-Ann,” she said, “I’m hurtin’.”

“It’s a rainy day, Nettie-girl,” I told her as gently as I could.  “It will be okay.”

“I know, but I cain’t make it,” she said again.  “I feel bad.”

“It’s okay,” I told her again.  “There is nothing you have to do today, so you can sit and rest.”

“I know, but I don’t think I can do my room,” she said sorrowfully.

“That’s alright, too,” I said, trying to be cheerful.  “You don’t have to clean your room.”

She ate her breakfast and got a banana and ate that, too.  She drank her tea and took her meds.  And then started again.

“Mare-Ann,” she said mournfully, “I don’t think I can do my room.”

“Nettie!  What did I tell you?

“About what?”  She asked, blinking like an owl.

“About your room today.”

She looked at me like I was the one who wasn’t thinking straight.  Then put both hands up in a hopeless gesture.  “I dunno.”

“I said,” said this somewhat disgruntled care provider, “THAT YOU DON’T NEED TO WORRY ABOUT CLEANING YOUR ROOM TODAY!”

She looked at me sideways, like she really didn’t believe me.  In the very least, she hates me to raise my voice at her.  “Alright,” she said resignedly.

I went back to putting meds into their places and organizing stuff in the med boxes.  I looked over and saw the frowny lines between her eyebrows.  I know that look.  She’s getting ready to say it all over again.

“There’s something else,” I said a bit forcefully.  She looked at me with her guarded expression.  “I don’t want you worrying yourself to death all day over your room and whether you should clean it or not.  Just don’t worry about it.  It’s all right.  I don’t want you fretting and stewing about not doing it.”

“You know I will,” she said, and then laughed ruefully.

I laughed, too.  “But you don’t have to!” I told her.  “You aren’t feeling good today, so you are supposed to just rest.”

She looked at me like I didn’t know what I was talking about, but took herself to her room and her chair and her heater and her television.  I’m pretty sure she wasn’t feeling up to par though because every time I checked on her, she was asleep.

But now, it is Sunday night and I’m really feeling under the weather myself, so I have a great deal of sympathy for how she felt yesterday.  Maybe mine is from the unseen reaches of the full moon, but I have a feeling that it is a nasty bug that is making its rounds.  However,  Certain Man is home, taking a huge load off my shoulders, our revival meetings with Dale Keffer at our little country church have already been an incredible encouragement to me, and if this cough and wheezing doesn’t keep me awake, I should be able to have a fairly good night’s rest.

And that is the news from Shady Acres, where Youngest Daughter has survived evacuation from her apartment to safer shelter on the Campus of Cedarville University, and where some of my extended family are suffering huge losses from the same storm that ripped through Illinois.  Steve and Lois Ulrich, Phil and Holly Hostetler, our prayers are with you tonight.


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2 responses to “Of Funerals, Full Moons, Nasty Bugs and Tornadoes

  1. We had that nasty bug over here too. I hope you all feel better soon. I always love reading about your life and the people you love, “Mare-Ann”!!

  2. Dale spoke at my graduation – he was a formative part of my teen years when he spoke at our little country church. I didn’t know, or had forgotten, that Phil and Holly are related to you. It is terrifying to hear of their loss but I’m so thankful they are physically safe.

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