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One thing that I didn’t mention in my last posting was that, in addition to everything else:

MY WASHING MACHINE HAD BROKEN DOWN!!!

Certain Man had purchased my wonderful (not!) Neptune Washer back in July,1999.  (There is quite a story about that purchase, too, but this isn’t it!)  When this machine is working, there is nothing I like better.  But very often, it breaks down.  I keep a warranty agreement on it, so I have gotten literally thousands of dollars of repairs on it over the years.  I keep telling them that they would come out ahead to just give me a new machine, but they keep thinking they can fix it — and so far, at least, they have!

The day after Christmas, I was washing a mammoth amount of dirty clothes.  And just before my last five (towels and jeans and such) loads, the stupid machine stopped running the spin cycle.  I prayed.  I jiggled.  I gave it a rest and tried again (probably about 15 times, actually) but all to no avail.  So early Wednesday morning, I called up my trusty Maytag Center to schedule service.  They said that there was no way the local company could even call me before, like, 3 working days. 

“We’ll be into the weekend by then!” I protested.

“Yes, ma’am, you might be, but there isn’t anything we can do.  That’s the earliest.”

“But it’s New Year’s Day on Monday.  Are you telling me that no one can do anything before then?”

“It doesn’t look like it Ma’am.  We will do the best we can, but we need to fax this to the company and they will need to get in touch with you to schedule.”

“What is my authorization number for this claim?’ I asked.  They gave it to me.

“I don’t understand how you can put this off so long,” I complained.  “I pay good money for the maintenance agreements, and it seems like you are waiting longer and longer to respond when I need you.”

The service scheduler was very nice.  “I understand, Miss, but you have to understand that your warranty agreement does not guarantee TIMELY service, but rather that you won’t have to pay out of pocket for the repairs.  Just like your car insurance.  Nothing says that they will HURRY, but that they will fix it for free, or whatever.  You have to wait your turn, just like everyone else.”   (I didn’t want to wait my turn.  I had weekend guests coming, Youngest Son to get ready to go back to college, and the never ending special needs laundry from my ladies.  But — it was clear they were not to be hurried.)

So, I got off the phone and called my trusty local service department who would be getting the fax and the authorization whenever the main office sent them out.  And I explained the situation and asked them to please schedule my service call with my favorite service guy and as soon as possible.  (My favorite service guy, Ray, owns a washer exactly like mine and he robs parts from his to fix mine when the need arises.  I did not tell them this, because I didn’t want them to stop him from doing it, but I REALLY, REALLY, REALLY wanted Ray.)

“Well, the earliest we can send someone is Tuesday, January 2nd.  And it cannot be Ray first thing in the morning.  Can you take someone else, or will you take Ray in the afternoon?”

“I’ll take the afternoon if I can have Ray.”  And so, they set it up.  And we limped along.  Eldest Daughter washed some of the waiting baskets for me and brought them back for drying and folding.  And some of the things, I put into the washer, and let it do its usual cycles (minus the spinning) and then went about wringing things out by hand, trying to keep things from getting too stinky. I almost developed Carpal tunnel in the process, too.  Even when Certain Man lent his strong hands, those big old bath towels were hard to wring out. 

“Maybe we should invest in an old wringer washing machine for times such as this,” I say to Certain Man one evening when we had both just about wrung ourselves out wringing!

“I’d sooner say, ‘let’s find a cheap one in the State News for a back-up,’ ” says Certain Man.  “A wringer washer would be fine for towels and such, but they are really hard on buttons.  If it didn’t cost so much, I’d be tempted to just go buy a new washer and then Phooey! on this one!”

“Well, if we can just hold on, they’ll get this one fixed again and we will be set and it won’t cost anything, either!”  Now before any of you start saying “laundromat” let me just tell you — I’ve been there, done that — in other situations, and sometimes it works okay, but this particular week, it just was not an option. 

Tuesday Morning:  The phone rang and it was my local service company. 

“We just want to tell you that we will be at your house sometime this afternoon to look at your washer.”  Something didn’t sound quite right.

“And is it going to be Ray?”

“Um, unfortunately, not.  But we have good technicians and they WILL find the problem.”

“Is this technician from your Lewes store or your Dover location?”

Well, he’s . . . from . . . our Lewes location.”

“I really wanted Ray!  You’ve sent people from your Lewes store before and they’ve come in here and said that there was nothing wrong with my machine.  And I KNEW there was!  Then Ray would come in and find it in a little bit of no time, get it fixed and be done with it.  Please, can’t I have Ray?”

“Mrs. Yutzy, we’re sorry, but Ray is out with a serious back problem.  We don’t know when he will be back.  The tech we are sending is good, though.  You’ll be happy with him.”

So, I obligingly agreed, and on Tuesday afternoon, they sent a very nice tech, indeed, and he shortly determined that I needed something called a “Machine Control Board.”  And of course he didn’t have it, but hopefully, one of the other stores would, and he could procure it yet today and would try to be back here tomorrow (Wednesday morning, first thing).

About then, Youngest Daughter came in from school with a wash basket full of green jerseys.  “Mom, it is my week to wash all the jerseys for the basket ball game.”

“Rachel!  How could you?”

“Well, Mom, I HAD to.  I was supposed to wash them last week, but someone else took them, so I HAD to take them this week.”

“But Rachel!  My washer is broke!”

“Oops!  I forgot!”

“When do you need them to be done?”

“By Friday.  But you can’t dry them in the dryer.  It will ruin them.  You hafta’ wash them and let them drip dry or hang dry or whatever!”

“Well, girlie, let’s just hope they get that washer fixed in time.  Hopefully tomorrow!”

So Wednesday came.  And nobody came or called.  So, along about 10:00,  I called them.  There was no one who could talk to me about the specifics, but the lady I talked to was certain that the part hadn’t come in and that it would be at least THURSDAY before they could procure it and put in on.

And then I did something that I am not particularly proud of.  You know that passage that tells us not to threaten people?  Well I did just that.  I said in my sweetest-almost-snooty-but-still-pretty-much-“Christian”) voice, “You know, I have just about had it with trying to get this washing machine fixed.  I am tempted to run in to Sears and get myself a new washer from them and be done with it.  I have had company, my one lady has been having seizures and there are some other thing going on that prevent me from getting out to get it done, and I am almost in despair about this mountain of laundry.”

I guess that once again, God knew exactly who would be the right person to put on the other end of the line.  Her voice was quiet and full of emotion.  “Please don’t do that.  I promise you that we will do all we can to help you.  We want to see this through.  Believe me, I know how it is.”  Her voice broke just slightly then and she said, “I really can feel for you.  When my husband was sick with cancer, it seemed like everything that could break, did break at the most inopportune times.  I know it is tough.  As soon as this lady gets off the phone with another customer, she will call you and let you know what to expect.  And again, I am so sorry.”

Well, what could I do except to say (very meekly), “Thank you.  I’ll be waiting to hear from her.”

About ten minutes later, the phone rang and it was the Service Scheduling Manager.  She told me that the part they needed had to be shipped in, that they expected to get it yet that afternoon and that they would put me on for first thing Thursday morning.  PROMISED.  And so I calculated the clean clothes I had left,  and decided that we would make it through.

Thursday dawned, beautiful and clear.  I had high hopes of seeing my repair man by soon after eight, but when nine thirty rolled around with no sign of him, I began to worry.  So, I called again.

“Did my part not come in, or did I get bumped from my “first thing in the morning spot,” or just what is going on?”

The gal at the other end said, “Hold on one minute.  Let me see what’s happening.”  She came back on and said, “He should be there any minute!”  Well, the “any minute” turned into another half hour, but he finally showed up and put the new part on and – – – –IT DIDN’T WORK!!!

I felt my heart go down to my toes, and I went about my kitchen in small and unproductive circles.  “It still won’t spin.  What will I do?  I have to get some laundry done.  What am a gonna’ do???  Why couldn’t they have sent Ray?  He would have had it fixed by now, I am sure!”  I was vaguely aware of the service tech tearing into the top of my washing machine with a wrench and some diagnostic equipment.  I came into the laundry room on another errand, and wonder of wonders, the drum was spinning.  “It’s SPINNING!!!” I announced (Like he didn’t know!)

“Yep, it is!” he agreed with a smile.  “:I needed the part, but then I needed to get inside here and reset some things, so now you should be good to go!”  He put everything back together, packed up his tools and left.  And I went straight to that washer and put in my first load of laundry.  The wash basket full of green Jerseys for the basketball team.  I washed them on a short wash and then hung them out on the wash line to dry.

OH, JOY!!!

It was such a pretty day, that I did some looking around at my flower beds, and I discovered this:
(On the 4th day of January, no less!)

Our daffodils are coming up!

And my trailing Vinca vine is growing, too!  It has been incredibly warm in Delaware.  It would have been a fine time for my dryer to go out — but things just don’t work that way, do they?  Tonight, all the laundry is finally washed, dried and (except for the towels, which are Middle Daughter’s responsibility) folded, and mostly put away.  If you don’t believe that feels good after eight days without a washing machine, well, you just don’t understand the situation!

And that is the news from Shady Acres, where we have but two more days until Youngest Son returns to College.  Where the messages from Eldest Son are heart warming even while we miss him so, and the rest of us are keeping the home fires (er, the home washing machines) going!

Today was going to be a certain way:  My plans were fully in place.

I was going to get up, get Linda dressed and on her way to Easter Seals (Yes!  They did have center today!).  Then I was going to take Nettie for her blood work at Lab Corp and then come home and go with Certain Man and my Sweet Mama to look for the grave stone for Daddy’s grave.  We planned to leave at ten o’clock.

Then last night, at 8:30, Cecilia had a seizure.  It wasn’t a bona fide seizure, but 20 seconds of hollering and shaking and then about ten minutes of lethargy.  She does this occasionally, and has been trucked into the ER for evaluation — with no concrete findings.  She is on two seizure meds, as well as a whole passel of other meds, and the levels have always been okay.  So we have usually chalked it up to pain or bronchitis or UTI or whatever developed in the days ahead.  So, we decided to watch her and see what would come of it.

Then, at midnight, she had another one.  20 seconds of hollering and shaking.  And of course she was in bed, so it seemed like she just went back to sleep afterwards and nothing more.  I was quite upset.  I wrote a letter to her doctor and tried to fax it so he would have it first thing this morning.  His fax machine would not answer my fax machine.  Not even after the third try!  I could not sleep.  So I read a letter from Eldest Son and promptly wrote him back, and finally went to bed around 1:30, only to roll and toss for an hour, listening to the monitor I have into the ladies’ room to see what was happening.  But nothing sounded amiss, so around 2:30 I fell into a restless sleep. 

Only to be awakened almost immediately by the chicken house alarm.  Certain Man groaned and rolled over and silenced the pager.  He sat on the edge of the bed with great weariness, but finally, after the second beep, pulled on his coveralls and headed for the chicken houses.  I went back to sleep, only to be awakened at 3:30 by the sounds of Cecilia having another seizure.  Very same as before, but I pulled on my housecoat and descended into the lower regions of the farm house.  She was no longer seizing when I got down here, but was clammy and listless.  I got her a glass of water, and she sat up in bed and gulped it down and lay back down.  I watched her for a few minutes, but her color was good, and so I betook meself back to my own bed. 

Certain Man had made it as far as his La-Z-boy after his trek to the chicken house, and that was where he determined to finish the night.  So I had the whole bed to myself, and I rolled and tossed some more until about 4:30, then slept again until the alarm went off at 5:30, whereupon, it was time to get up.  And I pondered greatly what I should do with Cecilia.  But no matter what, she needed showered and combed and dressed and fed and medicated.  So, I got her up, showered her and dressed her.  As I was combing her hair, it started again.  The fourth seizure.  It lasted 20 seconds, and she did not lose her balance or continence.  After about ten minutes of sitting on her bed, she got impatient.  So, in response to her coughing and snorting, I brought her out to the breakfast table and she ate a decent amount.

I tried again to fax her doctor, with the same results.  So I began to call people.  I called the on-call service and found out that Dr. W. was out of town until next week.  Maybe the emergency admitting doctor would handle this.  They would have him call me back.  He didn’t.

I called Faithful Katharine, Linda’s nurse from the department of Disabilities, and discussed things at length.  I needed to document the “seizures” and she felt I should call the neurologist.  But I couldn’t talk to anyone until after nine o’clock.  I could leave a message.  So I did.  A long and detailed and plaintive missive concerning the needs at my house.  And I waited.  Nettie waited, too, and was patient.

Finally, at 9:15, I called the Neurologist’s office and “No, they hadn’t gotten the message.  Did I wish to speak to someone?”  “That would be wonderful, if you don’t mind.”   (HELLO!!! MY CLIENT, YOUR PATIENT, HAS JUST HAD FOUR SEIZURES.  OF COURSE I WANT TO TALK TO SOMEONE!!!!!!!!!)  (Didn’t say it, but I surely thought that would be helpful)

I finally got to speak with a real, live nurse — who said that she would talk to Dr. V. and call me back.  And so, the waiting game started again.  But finally, around 10:00 or so, she DID call me back, and said that we needed to get blood work done, and then they would see her in their office, maybe next week or whenever it would suit to fit her in!

“And if she continues to seize?????” I queried.  “You know, I have a fax machine.  I am on my way to Lab Corp this morning with another client.  Couldn’t you just fax me the orders, I could get the work done this morning, and then you could see her sooner?”

“Oh, you mean, if I would fax you the orders and have them written STAT, and then maybe we could see her tomorrow or the next day?  Let me see what is available tomorrow.”  She came back on shortly and said that they could see her tomorrow at 11:00AM.  What a relief!

So, Nettie, Cecilia and me, we all haul off to Lab Corp.  Three people come in to assist with the blood letting.  One holds the right arm, one holds the left and one of them sticks.  I hover at the doorway, sending silent, fervent pleas to Heaven for mercy — that there would only be one stick, and that the noise would not bring the waiting room to edge of their chairs.  Thank God!  One stick only!  And the noise was loud, but it was short, and most people were sympathetic.  And wonders of wonders, we were home by 11:30.

And Eldest Daughter, Middle Daughter and Youngest Daughter who had sallied forth to Dover with small charges, Carson and Nevin returned home around 1:15, which meant that Certain Man was still available to drive his wife and his Mother in Love to Dover to pick out a stone for that year old grave.  And this was accomplished with a great deal less trouble that I would have thought.  My Sweet Mama found something that she liked quickly, the price seemed reasonable and the transaction was completed.  Then the trio headed over to BayHealth Medical Center, Dover, to visit with Sweet Mama’s sweet sister, Gladys, who finds herself confined there for a couple of days with some perplexing maladies.  That visit was sweet, and then there was time for a quick supper at Bob Evans, and then it was home again.

Tonight, home by the warm stove, in my soft warm housecoat that Certain Man gave me for Christmas, I crashed into the comfort of the La-Z-boy that is Certain Man’s and went fast asleep.  Sometimes I was dimly aware that there were people talking to me, asking advice or direction or giving valuable information, but it all went right over my head.  I finally bestirred myself to get meds given and ladies ready for bed, and have worked on bookwork for the church for a while, but nothing too profitable.  Just quiet evening things with classical music playing and Middle Daughter ironing and me dancing about on this computer.  It is time to lay it down and get something constructive done.  And so, all you in Xanga land who stayed for this last sentence — sleep tight, and never say “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city . . . carry on business . . . Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow.  What is your life?  You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.  Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.”  As it is, you boast and brag.  All such boasting is evil . . .”  James 4:13-16 (excerpts)  

Happy New Year!!!

And Happy Birthday to

My Sweet Mama!

Happiness is . . .

~A five minute phone call from Nepal.  Eldest Son sounded like he was in the next county. 

(But he is sick with an upper respiratory infection . . . and he is missing his friends, his family, his church, his job.)

As God brings him to your mind, would you join us in praying for him?

Christmas Company

Our Family has been blessed by family and friends that come to visit over the holidays.  This is Certain Man’s nephew, Jeremy, and his sweet wife Doreen.  Their exuberant boys are so sweet, and we enjoy them immensely.  The oldest is Weston, and he is six.  The fellow on Doreen’s lap is Kendall, and he is four.  And the “baby” is Donophan, and he is one. 

Look, Aunt Mary!  Tonsils!

 

It’s Christmas Eve at Shady Acres.
For almost twenty Christmases,
Old Gertrude
shared our carols, our Shrimp Chowder, the ageless Christmas story and the gifts.
Oh, how she loved the gifts!
How fervently she believed in Santa Claus!
Last year, she went to Heaven in October and was buried in early November.
At Stockley Center.
In the cemetery for the indigent and Mentally Retarded. 
Then Daddy died and nothing was right about last Christmas.  I hardly had time to think about Old Gertrude and how much she loved the season.  Besides, there wasn’t much to enjoy last year.  Just a new, wrenching grief and so many things for my hands to do that my heart didn’t catch up for several months.
Today, getting ready for our family celebration tonight, the gifts are wrapped, the tree is twinkling, the village is resplendent in it beauty, and, out of the blue, Youngest Daughter says,  “You know, I MISS Gertrude so much today.” 
Suddenly, the ache in my heart gets wider.

Gertrude!
She would have parked herself in the chair beside the tree every night since it went up and would have sang the carols and eaten chocolate, (getting it all over herself!)  She would have rubbed her hands together in gleeful anticipation of the packages under the tree, and would have listened as Certain Man read the Christmas story and Christmas prayers were offered. She would have rooted through her Christmas stocking and made a royal mess of things and would have been delighted with stuff that I could have imagined that she wouldn’t have looked at twice, and dismissed the things I chose so carefully with a sniff and an impatient wave of her hand.
Gertrude!
I miss her songs and I miss her childlike faith and enthusiasm.  I miss her unconditional love and her uncompromising loyalty.  She didn’t care if the house was a mess, she loved the simplest things to eat, she made me laugh and sometimes she frustrated me no end. She never wanted to hurry, and she didn’t care if everyone in the house was telling her to move, she would stand where she was and say with dignity and force “Don’t rush me.  You’ll cause me to fall!”

The picture above was taken at a small group caroling time several years ago.  Old Gertrude never could read, but she loved to pretend that she could.  I snapped this priceless photo and it couldn’t be more definitive of what Old Gertrude was like. 

For Gertrude. . . The other day, I passed the place you always liked to go.   And I picked up the phone because I thought you’d want to know. But I forgot you weren’t there.  I miss you all these days. When I’m reminded of your smile and the funny things you’d say. I miss you most at Christmas.  You were like a little kid. You always loved a good surprise, and now I must admit That I long more for Heaven, than I ever did before. You give me one more reason, and each day I want it more.  Knowing we can spend a lifetime, reminiscing on the past. Knowing I will see your face again, where tender moments last. It makes me want to go there, knowing I won’t be alone. Knowing you’ll be there, makes it easy to go Home.      Lyrics by Guy Penrod

. . . And now, it is after midnight.  It has been a full, full day.  I am so tired I can scarcely see straight. 

A year ago today (actually Yesterday by the clock) we had a funeral.  For some reason, this day was harder for me than the day that marked a year that Daddy died.  I don’t know why.  One of the things that I have learned over this year is that stuff needs dealing with.  I need to think and then decide to not be crippled by the sad thoughts.  I think this is a sign of healing, because there have been many, many months when I felt sometimes powerless before the grief.

This is one of my favorite pictures of Daddy, taken at Bert and Sarah’s house the day that Elmer was baptized.  Doesn’t he look happy?  I look at him, holding Mama’s hand, and surrounded by “the four musketeers” — our four daughters that ran around together all the time —  still do, whenever they get a chance.

From left to right, Carmen Heatwole, (my youngest sister, Alma’s only daughter) Rachel Yutzy, (known as Youngest Daughter of Certain Man and his Wife) Maria Slaubaugh (Middle Daughter of Middle Sister, Sarah), and Holly Yoder, Youngest Daughter to my youngest brother, Mark, Jr.).  And of course, that precious couple in the middle is the Grandma and Grandpa of them all — my Sweet Mama, and my now gone Daddy.

You could not have told me how much I would miss him.

Wow!  A day when (I think) I get to stay home!

So, I’m gonna’ set up a present wrapping station, turn on my Gaither Christmas Videos, and enjoy it!

All the office Christmas presents are delivered.  (Homemade strawberry jam in pretty jars with old fashioned gift tags)

We got done with the teachers’ and bus driver gifts yesterday (Homemade cinnamon rolls on a pretty paper christmas plate).

And Middle daughter cleaned my messy kitchen.

And my Mama watched my ladies so I could go Christmas Caroling with our church for the first time in many a year!  What a great time we had!  And doughnuts and hot chocolate and great fellowship in the church basement afterwards were all warming and encouraging.

“. . . All is calm, all is bright!”

 

One year ago, you went away.

Home to Heaven, and this we believe.

How have we made it?  Has it only been a year?

How have we made it?  Is it already a year?

Brave Mama, brave siblings, brave grands.

Friends so warm, so kind, so understanding.

And lots and lots of pain and hurt and grief belonging to others

To mix in with our own to remind us that-

We are not alone!

We have never been alone!

And the very Jesus who welcomed you home

Walks with us.

Knows our pain.

Knows how much we miss you!

Oh, Daddy.  We remember!

Sometimes it seems like we should be able to look up to see you walk through the door.

We miss your prayers.  Your birthday cards with the notes.  The eyebrows that went down when you were displeased.  The smiley lines around your eyes.  We remember shoulder rides and ticklings and whiskerings.  We remember playing on the living room floor when the safe area was the hardwood bordering our area rug when we would dash from one side to the other and you, on your hands and knees would growl and chase and catch us as we tried to sneak by.  We remember riding in the back of the truck to the Butler Feed Mill in Andrewsville, and the suckers that were given away free to wiggly farm children.  We remember how you taught us to ride bikes and always made sure that our bikes were in good repair.  We remember the swing in the maple tree and ice cold watermelon on hot summer days.  We remember your strong arms and your tanned skin.  We remember Family Worship around that grey formica kitchen table and kneeling on that hard linoleum floor while you prayed and prayed and prayed.  We remember how you prayed for our community, for our ministers, for your parents, for each one of us, for the wayward and for the faithful, for rain in long dry summers, for the less fortunate, for the strength to be faithful, for forgiveness where you had failed and that God would bring us all safely home without the loss of one.  We remember how much you loved our Mama, and how much you loved us.  We remember the way you would cradle our babies to you shoulder and murmur Grandpa talk into their ears.  We remember the interest you had in our relationships, our marriages and the love affairs of your grandchildren.  We remember how you never lost faith in “True Love” and how thankful you were that you had been blessed with it.

Some days it seems like this old world really did need you a whole lot longer.  Not that we question our Heavenly Father’s timing.  It’s just that you had so much to offer, so much of what so many have so little of when it comes to compassion, and a listening ear and an understanding heart.  We feel so much the poorer without you.

But we’ve learned just how blessed we really were, too.  We had it incredibly good in almost every way.  And because of that, these days are harder in some ways, but sweeter in others.  And I know that from where you are tonight, it doesn’t really matter, but we will always love you!

(Note to my readers:  Over the last year, I have chronicled alot of emotions in another web-log, at www.xanga.com/letterstomydaddy.  There are things there that are very private, very personal.  But I think I am pretty much done writing there for now.  And if you love me, and if you loved my Daddy, you are welcome to read my journey there.  It isn’t all sanctified, I am sure, but it is honest.  And it is written as what I was feeling and thinking when it was happening.)