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. . . 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.)

A Year ago today, I made the following posting:   This morning, looking at it, I realize I could have posted almost the exact same thing this year —  with a few changes concerning circumstances.    Daddy was ill, Gertrude had gone on to Heaven, Youngest Son was in Phoenix — And this was what I wrote. . .

Finally!  Word from Eldest Son!!!
(Actually, 21 words!)

And here, in its entirety, is the message:

The open house went well — we had alot of fun!  But this hostess forgot all about her camera until the party was almost over, and by then, I was so tired, I didn’t feel like crashing about and getting pictures.  Of course, the next morning, I was very, very sorry, but it was way too late by then.

Today has been a full day, and there are many reasons to give thanks!  I narrowly averted disaster this afternoon.  I was energetically getting trash together since the trash man goes tomorrow.  Out in the garage there is a roll of barrel liners, and when I noticed that the trash barrel needed a liner, I decided to take care of it immediately.  I also took some eggs to the garage refrigerator so that I wouldn’t waste the trip.  While I had the fridge door open, I noticed that there was one lonely diet pepsi in there, so I thought I would take it in for later.  I was going around the end of the car to go out to the trash barrel, and thought that it might be good to stash my diet pepsi on the bumper of the car while going around the corner of the garage, so I perched it up there.  Then, far off in the house, I heard the phone ring.

Now, I am a bit more apt to try to get to the phone these days.  I am longing for word from Eldest Son.  It seems eons since we’ve had any word, written or otherwise.  I am never sure what time it is in Nepal, and when Middle Daughter was in Bangladesh for three months, the solitary call she made home was made at a strange time, indeed.  So, when I am home, I am thinking that any time could be a good time for a phone call from Eldest Son.

Anyhow, I was standing at the end of the car, holding this great long barrel liner when I heard the phone ring, and I thought that I should probably go in there and get it.  Now I want to make one thing very clear.  I was not really hurrying.  I had plenty of time, I thought.  I picked up my diet pepsi, and made my way up the ramp, rounded the corner into the entryway, and came into the laundry room.  As I made the slightest corner there in the laundry room, the long, trailing plastic liner somehow got under my left foot, and I went down with a mighty crash.

There were no obstacles in the laundry room.  I was quite relieved about that.  I didn’t hit anything but the floor.  Somewhere in the far reaches of my conscious mind, I heard my pepsi can bouncing on and on, and both of my hands slapped the linoleum hard.  I was aware that my knees felt like they had received a brush burn, but nothing else hurt.  At all.  I was amazed.  I mean, when a gal goes down like a cow on wet cement, there is usually some kind of damage!  But there was nothing!

So I got myself up, ruefully noting that my phone had ceased to ring.  I was so aggravated that I didn’t even look for my can of pepsi.  Nettie-girl found it some time later and brought it to me.  I think it was somewhere behind the toilet in the downstairs bathroom.  And I was thankful to see that it hadn’t ruptured anything either, in the melee.

I suppose that tomorrow there will be a hundred muscles crying “Foul!” but I feel surprisingly unscathed.  And if that isn’t reason to give thanks, then I don’t know what is.

Our family is getting ready for the Christmas Open House that we host each year for Daniel’s office friends and their families.  This is to be tomorrow evening at 6:30, LORD willing.

Pray that God would be honored in our lives and in our family.

Pray that the age-old Christmas Story would take root and bear fruit in these lives.

Pray for Karen, our pianist.  She makes these reedy, unused voices sound so good!!!

Pray that I will get ready on time.

And pray for Youngest Daughter.  Her Doctor’s office called this afternoon, and she does, in fact, have Mono.

Some of you know — some of you don’t (of course), but the one thing I collect is manger scenes.  Over the years, I have been given so many beautiful manger scenes.  And I pretty much have resolved that I cannot buy any more for myself.  But sometimes I get overwhelmed by a particular thing.  Like last week, I picked up one I’ve been wanting a long time, but could not afford.  It is the Willow Tree one, and I found the Nativity and the Shepherds and stable animals at a shop in the mall.  It would have been $100.00 (Already a bargain, I am told) but they had 40% off everything in the store.  And that made it $60.00.  And then I had a new credit card that I was going to use one time since I was supposed to have $50.00 off my first purchase.  So I got it for $10.00!!!  (I was beyond pleased!)  Middle Daughter already has her bid in for it, and I may just give it to her.  You see, there is more to this story.

Probably ten years ago, Middle Daughter bought me this exquisite manger scene from Sam’s Club: 

 It was worth far more than she paid for it, but it was still a sacrificial gift for her.  We always put it on the mantle.  We always set it up almost the same each year, and for us and for our children, it is part of the Christmas traditions that we love so much.  I never put it up, though, that I don’t remember that teen-ager who saw this beautiful set, knew that I would treasure it always, and made it her business to get it for me.  I love the manger scene, Deborie, but I love you more.

Tonight it seems like my family is so scattered — Eldest Son in Nepal, Youngest Son in Cedarville, and Daddy in Heaven.  There are so many things to fill our hearts and heads at this time of our lives.  But where ever you are, Raph, if you’re reading this, we miss you, and we remember how much you loved this season, and we think of you at every turn.  And Lem, it won’t be long until we see you again, but nothing seems right without your enthusiastic exclamations, and we miss you, too.  I’m so thankful for my tall sons — and I am reminded that when God wanted to show His inexpressible love for us, He sent His Son.  I wonder how God felt that night when His only begotten Son became a helpless baby in a quiet Judean town.  And He knew!  He KNEW that it wouldn’t be easy for His Son.  But He sent Him anyhow.  For me.  For you.  For us.

What wondrous love is this?

(This is for www.xanga.com/forthemastersuse)

Do you give refills?????

That has to be the best fruitcake that I have ever tasted!

Thanks for thinking of us!

(But I haven’t been sharing it with Visitors of the Village!)

Also, thanks to all of you for all your prayers and good wishes.  I am feeling pretty good this morning. That good night’s rest really did me alot of good!  And Nettie is sleeping in this morning, but she had a pretty good night.

(I will bless the Lord at all times . . . “)

T’was a good Sunday, indeed.

But then I came home last night, happy and contented with such a good day.   And Nettie took it upon herself to throw up and be miserable, indeed.  So that necessitated a trip to Wal-mart for gingerale and Mylanta — which is what her Standing Medical Orders says is all she can have for upset stomach.  I had thought that I would sit in my La-Z-Boy with my feet up for a spell, but it wasn’t to be.

So, I got the offering processed from the weekend, and ready for the bank.  Kept checking on the Nettie girl, and sorted some laundry.  (Not exactly Sunday activities, but —)  And finally went to bed considerbly after midnight.

And then this morning, my Sweet Mama had an appointment in Lewes at the eye doctor at 8:45.  I had pretty much promised her that I would take her.  She needed her pupils dilated, and she hasn’t been sleeping very well.  I didn’t trust her to get there and back safely.  The question of scheduling was becoming critical.  Middle Sister has been involved in a great saga of hospitals and doctors and her Middle Daughter who has been getting progressively worse with no diagnosis and no hope or help in sight, so I knew that I couldn’t ask her to take Mama.  So I called Youngest Sister, and she graciously agreed to take our Sweet Mama to the doctor.  This took care of one immediate, pressing concern.

Mondays are always wash day.  And it is also the day that Nettie has to have blood work to keep track of her one medication.  But this morning, she was really not doing too well.  In addition to her stomach virus, the season seems to be producing some depression.  And by the time I got Cecila on the bus, Youngest Daughter was complaining that her throat was really, really sore.  And she was really, really tired.  And did she mention that her throat was really, really sore?  And that she was really, really tired?  And that if she went to school, she could probably not make it.  But if she didn’t go for at least two hours, she couldn’t go to basketball practice.  But her throat really, really hurt.  And she was really, really tired.

And then Nettie messed her pants and got it all over the floor, and all over the toilet, and all over herself.  And it took the grace of God to gently reassure her and clean everything up.

Thirty tries to Youngest Daughter’s doctor finally got an answer and an appointment for 1:00 in Seaford.  Five tries to Nettie’s doctor got an answer and an appointment for 11:00 in Millsboro.  It was now 9:30.  And there was still bloodwork to get done in Milford.  And Youngest Daughter wanted to go to school for two hours.  So, it was off to Lab Corp with Nettie.  Who was walking slow.  Talking slow.  Feeling awful.  (But if she didn’t get the blood work done, her phychotropic meds could not be filled, and then we’d have more trouble on our hands!)  This is the first time we have ever gone to LabCorp and there was no one in the waiting room.  (“If it had not been that the LORD was on our side . . .”)  They took her straight in, drew her blood, and then I stopped by home and picked up Youngest Daughter, and we went to Greenwood to school by 10:15.  After that, Nettie and I headed for Millsboro and her 11:00 appointment.  We pulled into the parking lot with maybe five minutes to spare, but when Nettie went to get out of the van, she began to wail.  She stood on the black top outside our white mini van and hugged her middle.

“I have to go to the bathroom.  I can’t stop it.  I’m messing my pants!  What am I gonna’ do?  What am I gonna’ do?  Wa-h-h-h-h-h-h!  I can’t walk!”

“Nettie, just take it easy, girl.  Let’s get you inside to the bathroom.  We’ll get you cleaned up.  It will be okay.”  (“Dear Lord, what am I going to do.  I don’t carry extra clothes in the car for this sort of thing.  Help me to think of something, please!”)

“I’m all wet!  I messed my pants.  I can’t go in there.  What am I gonna’ do?  I feel bad!”

“Come on, sweetie.  We’ll get you cleaned up, and I will run to the drug store and get you some pull-ups.  It will be okay.  If I need to get you another pair of slacks, we’ll do that.  But let’s get you inside.”

So we trudged in, straight through a very crowded waiting room, (while a most distinctive air surrounded us) to the (thankfully) empty bathroom.  It was a sight, (and a horrible stench).  There were no rubber gloves.  There was no air freshener.  Nettie pulled her slacks carefully off, and they were in decent shape.  I washed out the undies in the sink, and scrubbed her down with antibacterial soap, and then scrubbed my hands thoroughly.  She pulled on her slacks without any undies, and I returned to the receptionist.  The stench followed me like a cloud.

“I’m sorry.  We’ve made quite a smell in there, and I need to run out and get her some pull-ups.  But I don’t really think you want her in this waiting room.  She’s been vomiting, and she has this uncontrollable diarrhea.  I know that she is contagious.  You can do what you want, but I would strongly advise that you put her somewhere in a room away from everyone else, and I will be back as soon as I can.”

Glory be!  They wanted to put her into a room by herself.  I fled to Happy Harry’s and procured rubber gloves, pull-ups, antibacterial spray, antibacterial hand cleaner, baby powder, and huge personal cleansing wipes.  I got back to the unbelievable scene of the Physician’s Assistant already examining her and giving her undivided attention.  (Something that rarely happens in that office, I might add.  The MD there has been known to spend over an hour with one patient, while people wait four hours for their turn.  It is inexcusable, but Nettie likes this MD, and this office KNOWS her, and SHE HAS HER RIGHTS so I don’t get anywhere when I want to switch doctors!!!)  I had a most pleasant and informative conversation with the PA while I got Nettie into clean underwear, powdered and disinfected and much more comfortable.

And yes, she does have vicious stomach virus.  We went to the drugstore and got what we needed and came on home and now I am trying to get something constructive done.  (This isn’t it!)

And Eldest Daughter took Youngest Daughter to her doctor appointment, and there isn’t any strep.  And he doesn’t think she has Mono.  He did order some blood work that we can get done tomorrow, and hopefully all will be well there, and maybe a good night’s rest will do her the most good.

But guess what!  My stomach really doesn’t feel very good.  I have been taking anti-nausea medicine this afternoon and trying to think wholesome thoughts, but I am really feeling queasy.  Maybe a good night’s rest will do me good, too.

And that is the lament of an untoward Monday