Working in Gwennie Ru’s Orchard
Category: Uncategorized
What I Learned about Love and Walks in the Woods
Still a part of my new life as a widow and a grandma in the making…
Esther and I were enjoying our time in North Carolina, the second day after her arrival. When we get together, Esther often brings me some piece of clothing that she thinks I would like. This time I was gifted with a nice cotton dress, the kind of dress that should be worn often and enjoyed, so I was wearing it on this day and feeling quite comfortable in a fun, old fashioned way.
Gwennie Ru and I went on a walk, as was our new custom. This time I stayed on the paths that were not difficult to negotiate while wearing the dress, that was just a bit above my ankles. It was easy to check my legs for wood ticks, and there were none after the walk. But, strangely, there was a bite that looked and felt like a tick bite. I was bothered all night, wondering where the tick might be. Every little sensation, anywhere, had me searching all over again. If you’ve ever lived in wood tick country, you know what I’m saying.
The next day the four of us girls started on our trip to Pennsylvania. It was a rainy day with tropical storm Ophelia. The night before, I had seriously thought about cancelling. I could imagine having an accident on the way and risking all of us, Dennis’s whole family, being wiped out on the way to his memorial. But, I’m not superstitious about my worrisome thoughts, and it didn’t seem like a message from God either. Morning came and gave us a break long enough to load the car and set out. Of course, I prayed for safety and then began the drive. I was concentrating on the road all day and didn’t think about bug bites, or itching.
We arrived at our destination and were getting ready for bed that night when I realized there were bites all over my legs and midriff. All over, and they were inflamed, and they itched. They were not wood tick bites, they were chiggers. I had heard of them, but never experienced the misery. I spent the next two days taking Benadryl every four hours just to get through the weekend. I am rethinking going on walks down by the river, in a dress. Just so you know, there were no bug bites on my grandbaby.
Thankfully, nothing was able to ruin the time together with the Pennsylvania family. The memorial was a chance to reconnect with them and strengthen family bonds. We talked and remembered things about Dennis and his growing up years that made him who he was. I saw my children and their cousins coming to appreciate each other and their life experiences. I enjoyed the same welcoming spirit and comforting love from Dennis’s brother and sister and their families that I had always felt. I realized that I had let some of that lie untended and forgotten.
The truth is that with any love, for myself, for others, or for God, doing with intention is necessary. Even though I may not have told love to die, it will up and do so all by itself, unless I tend to it. Time goes by and the distance created becomes more tolerable. I can forget how special it is to love and to be loved. That is a sad position to be in.
Now, we are safely back in North Carolina. My bug bites have healed. I am sticking to safer paths for the time being, no matter what I’m wearing. And I am seriously thinking about how the next Dietz reunion might look. The weekend had some valuable results, just sayin’…
Becoming Grandma: Day 2
Day #2
Maybe it’s just me, but it seems like Gwennie Ru needs a person pretty much dedicated to her, without too much else to do. I did just go outside and water some flowers and empty the garbage, but to do something like writing, something requiring thought as well as time, is really hard.
This morning we took another walk along the Haw River that borders the property. Some of the trails have been recently mowed, others not so much. I took one of the “not so much” trails today and found a couple wood ticks when I got back. I lost one of them somewhere in the bedroom and ended up vacuuming the whole room, hoping to get rid of it. I should probably think more about where I go with my precious bundle, but it’s been so nice to be able to walk while I’m here. It’s almost a sure way to get Gwennie to quiet down and wait for the next thing scheduled to happen.
Today I dressed her in a short sleeve onesie and some long pants to cover her legs on our walk. I put socks on her too because it always feels like her feet are cold. She has no extra fat anywhere to keep her warm and padded. She has SO MANY CLOTHES. I would be surprised if she gets to wear all her outfits before she grows out of them. A lot of them are handed down from friends and relatives. Her mama doesn’t know how to say no to anyone, especially when everything is so cute.
This morning it was 54 degrees in my RV and that was fine when I was under the covers, but pretty chilly when I wasn’t. I learned how to light the furnace – my one accomplishment before grandma duties began.
My spiritual reflection for today came while looking down at Gwennie’s little face as she slept. How easy and compelling it is to love someone who is so helpless and dependent. That condition is part of why I love her. I want to guard her, meet her needs, teach her to live safely in the world and let her know she is valued and loved. Duh, lightbulb moment… that is why God created us to be able to have parenting experiences. He wanted us to have that feeling toward helpless children in our care, because that is exactly what we are to him. And that is how he feels toward us. It is such a rich blessing to be created in the image of a loving God.
Would the “New Normal” Please Stand Up
I have some catching up to do in my journaling life. Stuff has been happening that I don’t want to forget. Let’s start here.
I am in North Carolina, waiting for my daughter to give birth to her first child, a little girl who is already named Gwendolyn Ruth. I am also waiting for the most accurate words to describe these new experiences since the husband passed away. I want the new normal to start soon. The word “normal” suggests that something happens often enough for one to become used to it. Nothing like that is happening yet.
I have been busy most of the time since arriving. I have picked blueberries, beans and tomatoes. I have vacuumed centipedes and cat hair off the basement floor, and washed bedding and helped set up beds for the company. I have given half of a donkey a haircut. I have washed dishes and helped with meal prep. The work is distracting and it is nice to feel useful. I keep thinking that I should help Julia so she can rest but then I go looking for her and find her out pulling weeds in the 90 degree heat. Her very pregnant self seems to think things will happen faster if she works harder.
Yes, it is hot and humid here in North Carolina. North Carolina where dirt is orange and tobacco fields are everywhere. North Carolina where roads are never straight and every other one is named after a church or chapel. North Carolina where there are fireflies at dusk.
I’ve been watching life from the sidelines a lot lately. Words to describe it all don’t come easily, or they come all in a jumble and don’t get themselves in order to make sense. At the moment the words are flying around in confusion because I’m sitting at Julia’s kitchen table where there is commotion. Julia has friends who are visiting from Florida for a few days, camping out in her basement. The five active children want to go shooting, no, they want to take the ATV on the trail, no, they want to play a board game, no, they… the parents tell them to go brush their teeth. Parenthood is in full swing.
My daughter keeps thinking of things to cook and bake. She likes to experiment with sourdough and has made bread, muffins, doughnuts, and pancakes in the days since I arrived. I have always been in awe of her ambition in the kitchen. There are dozens of appliances, several pantries full of ingredients, three full refrigerators and a large freezer, also full. The trouble is that she is just as interested in a dozen other things as she is in cooking and baking. Preparing meals and eating them are often not priorities and so get done at odd times. Even so, no one is starving here.
I’m observing and doing the work of learning other people’s routines, seeing what things have changed in the years I’ve spent preoccupied with the husband and his disabilities. Now that I am not his caregiver, who am I and what will I do with myself? Time will help sort it all out, I’m sure.
Meanwhile, everyone here is waiting. Waiting for the little girl named Gwendolyn Ruth to make her appearance. Waiting for things to get back to normal. I can already see the trouble with those expectations.
A to Z Challenge: Leonard the Doctor
Character sketches that are fictional but based on real characters, like us.
Finally free of military obligations, Leonard was more than excited to set up his own private ENT practice. He was now quite experienced at peering down people’s ears, noses and throats and could hardly wait to start making some real money. There had always been something about being a short person in the military that had left him feeling a little insecure. He was ready to be a boss.
His new clinic on the edge of the small, but growing, city was his own design and was going to serve him well for many years. A full hall of exam rooms, for when he took on associates, a med room with an autoclave, the small surgery suite, and the offices – it was all but finished with the carpet going in the waiting room this week.
He’d put an ad in the paper for a receptionist/nurse/bookkeeper and figured he would end up training someone to do it all, for the time being. Things would be slow at first.
His biggest irritation was his wife, who kept popping in unannounced to give him decorating advice, or request help with the kids. She was ditsy, that was the best word he could think of to describe her. He would much prefer that she stay home and mind her own business.
By the next week he had interviewed several people for his front office, and one was a nurse, just out of school. She wouldn’t know much, but that way he could “fashion” her to suit his practice and not have to re-program a bunch of bad habits. He probably wouldn’t need to pay her a lot either. He liked the idea of starting out with everything new.
The first week the doors opened there were two patients. One was a bad nosebleed and he was so glad he had properly prepared his nurse. “When you see a nosebleed getting out of the car, meet them at the door and get them off the carpet as quickly as you can. No sitting in the waiting room.” Not that they would have had to wait…
During the slow days between the two patients there was a lot of time to train his nurse on the patient filing system he had decided to use. She was going to have to learn his dictation machine as well, and type out patient reports. She was fairly quick at the office tasks which pleased him. He kind of liked standing behind her when she worked at the desk, watching to make sure she was getting the billing system right. He found himself wondering what it would be like to touch her hair.
The weeks wore on, and the practice was growing, but slowly. He was starting to do surgery at the local hospital and had trained “his girl” to make up the surgery packs and autoclave them. At some point he was going to start taking her to surgery to assist but he’d have to pay her more then, so not yet. There were still some slow times at the office too, and he was having fun making her nervous.
Their teaching sessions were getting kind of exciting to him. She reminded him of some of the new army recruits he’d been acquainted with. He liked standing close while explaining how to position the microscope, or use an ear speculum. She would find a reason to move away, but he could follow. It was almost ridiculous how he’d slowly chase her around the exam table. Didn’t she get it?
He wasn’t expecting it at all the day she gave notice that she was leaving. It was after the last patient had gone and the locking of the doors. She was finishing up the roster at the desk when he finally got the nerve to stroke her hair. She calmly turned around and said “I’m giving you one month to find my replacement. During that time, if you ever touch me again or make me feel uncomfortable, I’m walking out the door at that moment. And, by the way, your wife will hear about it too.”
He blushed, and wished he could have thought of something to say. How dare she embarrass him like that! Now, she was making him feel uncomfortable. And so awkward.
The next month went way too slowly for both of them. She was glad to be done and made sure he gave her a glowing recommendation. He ended up hiring three people to replace her. None of them were young, cute, or chaseable.
A to Z Challenge: Karmen
Character sketches that are fictional but based on real characters, like us.
Karmen didn’t know what had gotten into her. It wasn’t that they’d never fought before, they had. It wasn’t that the finances were stretched tight, they always were. And it wasn’t that the kids weren’t always testing their patience, because that was a given. It was all of that and more, all at once. If he had listened to her and helped her quiet down, it might have gone differently. But no, he didn’t understand and that mad her even more angry. They should have let it go until morning when they were rested and in their right minds…
She was sitting at a friend’s house thinking things over. She hadn’t expected him to call the cops on her and the night she had spent cooling off in jail for her “domestic disturbance” was a first. It hadn’t been fun and she was determined not to let that happen again.
Now she had gotten past the angry period and moved into scared. She was going to have to appear before a judge, and at the very least it would mean community service, and likely more. The worst part was not being able to go home because of the restraining order. What was her husband thinking? Was he really that afraid of her? Did he think she would hurt the children? It was confusing because she couldn’t remember some of the details.
It was going to be the news of the day in their small Hispanic community. A third of the people living there were his relatives, a third were related to her and another third were people they didn’t want to associate with. She could not get Felipe to understand how badly she wanted to get into a better, safer neighborhood. Why couldn’t they live someplace where everything they owned didn’t have to be under lock and key. Someplace where the drug dealers weren’t always looking at her kids as potential customers. It was simple, he always said. They would move when they had the money to move.
Karmen just wanted to talk to Felipe, on the phone. She wanted to see the kids, tell them she was sorry. She wanted some clean clothes.
She sat in silence, wishing she could turn back the clock.
A to Z Challenge: Juan
Character sketches that are fictional but based on real characters, like us.
“I was never so happy to see someone in my whole life.” He couldn’t stop saying that.
Ike and Juan left the chained enclosure and came to the car where I’d been waiting. It had taken quite a while to get Juan’s belongings returned to him and the paperwork done to bail him out. He’d only been locked up for three days but it had seemed like a lot longer to him. He still wasn’t sure what had happened, but from the time he’d been stopped on the highway until now the sense of being helpless, confused and frustrated had been nearly overpowering.
He’d been a fireman in Mexico and was used to dealing with the authorities, the Mexican police and officials. This had been different from the start. Evidently someone reported a break in and described a van the same color and make as Juan’s. A patrol car had pulled him over and he was cuffed and taken in for questioning in spite of his protests that he knew nothing about it and had been in Publix getting groceries. He didn’t know what had become of his van.
The next thing he knew they were taking him for a ride to the port jail where his cell phone and contents of his pockets were bagged and taken away. He was suited up and told he could make a phone call. The numbers he might have called were stored away in his cell phone, and before he could think of what to do next, the opportunity melted away. He wondered if anyone would ever miss him.
I kept wondering why the police wouldn’t at least listen to a clean cut, nicely dressed kid, who was obviously not on drugs or intoxicated. Was being Mexican that much of a strike against him? Of course, there was no one who could answer questions like that.
The next day a search of the impound lots was successful in finding his van. Juan didn’t have the impound fee with him but was allowed to look the vehicle over. He immediately turned his attention to the glove compartment. His wallet was there, along with his credit card and driver’s license, but the $400 in cash that he had just been paid for a week’s work was missing.
Ike took over. He was enraged. He knew a few people in the sheriff’s office and was not going to let this matter die without a fight. The three page letter he drafted and had me type was a chronicle of every detail of the arrest and detainment, including the money missing from the van. He suggested that both of us should sign it – being upstanding citizens we could be references for the truthfulness of Juan’s account. I was not counting on the effectiveness of this move. It was no small thing to cast doubt on the integrity of the sheriff’s deputies. We would see what kind of pull Ike had with his buddies in the department.
The next day Ike took Juan to the impound lot to pick up the van. Mysteriously, an envelope with $375 was now in the glove compartment. All charges against Juan were dropped. It wasn’t exactly the confession and apology we would have liked but Juan was content to keep a low profile. We think we know what happened but will never be able to prove it.
What do you think happened that resulted in charges being dropped and money reappearing in the van?
A to Z Challenge: Evelin
Character sketches that are fictional but based on real characters, like us.
She seemed perfectly content to sleep in friend’s living rooms, on their couches – a few nights in one place, then switch. She was content to walk everywhere, or hitch a ride when it was offered. She was actually proud of her ability to wander about at night and not get mugged or in trouble. She felt zero obligation to be in school. It was a distraction to the rest of her life. In fact, she so enjoyed being known as “tough” and independent that, to this day, I don’t know why she decided to come home with my daughters. Maybe it was the colder weather and the thought of a bed that could be hers if she wanted it.
Seeing my daughter’s friends at school or youth gatherings I always assumed that they had home lives that were some variation of our own. Not so. I wasn’t aware of how abnormal we were, until meeting people like Evelin and hearing their stories. I seldom heard the parental version. I tried to imagine what I would have done with a girl who went into the garage with a lit candle and ended up setting her motorcycle on fire. Kicking her out probably wouldn’t have been my first remedy, but then again, maybe it wasn’t the first time.
We cleared out an enclosed breezeway and put bunk beds and a dresser next to the sauna. The room had windows and it’s own door to the outside. What more could a tough girl want?
She was quiet, polite and really quite good looking, although I don’t think she knew it. She didn’t try to look beautiful, feeling more comfortable with a style somewhere between grunge and Goth, covering it all with a long man’s raincoat. The coat probably came in handy in her late night wandering. She did have six toes on her feet but you wouldn’t have noticed unless you stopped and counted. Who does that?
Evelin wanted a job for spending money and decided to work the late shift at a fast food joint a good two miles from our house. She was the closer and in charge of spraying the grease off the floors – at 2 am when they shut the drive thru window. It wasn’t a particularly safe area of town and the thought of her walking home at that hour gave me shivers up the spine. I decided to set the alarm and drive down to get her. She hated it. She hated me for “pampering” her and making her soft. How did I know that? She left me a note saying so.
Part of the terms of her residence with us was that she go to school again. She was enrolled at a different school than my daughters were, so afternoons were spent in the car waiting at one school and then the other. We often would wait at Eve’s school until it emptied out and discover that she hadn’t been there.
She was a mystery to me. I think she would have liked knowing that, because maybe being a mystery is as good as being tough. I wouldn’t have guessed she would turn things around and become an architect with two beautiful children, one of whom has six toes on his feet. And that’s another story…
A Little Confusion
Lately I have had reason to visit some old blog posts and update them. Don’t be confused! I have not just been to Seattle. I haven’t been neglecting my vitamins. Those posts were from 2011.
WordPress has also made a big change and I am not seeing the same posting activity that you are seeing. I didn’t know those posts appeared again as if I had just written them.
I’ll get it figured out in time. I’ve enjoyed reading about my past though, and maybe you will too. I will try to identify the old ones so you know what you’re reading. Just sayin’, don’t be confused.
The Last Day (of 2022)
Most every year, during the month of December, I carry two planners around with me. One is for the present year, and one is for the year to come because I am often planning ahead. That’s what planners are for. The last day of December often finds me closing out one and looking back over the fading year. I am doing that today.
The first half of the year was filled with quiet routine. The husband was housebound except for a few rides in the car and a restaurant meal now and then. We had a regular habit of reading in the mornings and sharing thoughts on what we’d read. Evenings often included him getting a wheelchair ride around the community.
I enjoyed the seasons – skiing in the winter, gardening in the spring and, most of all, planning for our August family reunion.
While family was arriving in late July, the husband had a stroke. Before that time I often wondered how his diagnosis of Lewy Body dementia would play out. He was obviously experiencing symptom progression but so slowly. I thought he was dependent on me in some ways, but little did I realize that being able to walk at all, and being able to eat are very independent activities. He was still doing those things at will, and amusing himself during the day with tv, phone calls, and books.
The stroke took all of that away. What followed was 25 days in ICU, 5 days in a step down unit, 49 days in acute care rehab hospital, 26 days in skilled care rehab, and 24 days in a nursing home. I’ve been sitting here with my planner counting up the days and marking the events. Most of these places were 90 minutes away from home. The last was only half an hour away. I’ve put thousands of miles on the car. I was weary of traveling and welcomed bringing him home. This is his 29th day at home, the 17th day under hospice care.
I am the primary caregiver, although we do have around 15 hours of care each week from CNAs hired privately. That is the summary of the second half of 2022 for the husband and me. It’s been a year to remember.
I can’t say that I have felt like writing much during this time. Occasionally it has been an emotional release. I might also like to have record of what we have gone through, at some later date when memory fails me. But much of it I would like to forget. Ten years ago I would not have imagined living the life I have now.
Should I say something about God and his part in the road we’re on? I see him as having been very patient and understanding of my fatigue, my not want to think deeply, or pray consistently, or immerse myself in scripture every day. In some ways I am numb to those disciplines in much the same way as a young mother with a house full of toddlers. God sees what overwhelms his humans. He sends me out on a “walk and talk” and I will tell you that the natural world has been my lifeline this year.
He sits with me when I cry. He gives me words for the husband when calming and encouragement is needed. When action is called for he has given me the thought of what must be done and the energy to do it. He has given me assurance about all the confusing and uncertain things – that I can trust him and decide not to fear, not to blame.
Many friends have said they are praying for us, and have reminded me of that often. That has weight with me. This is not the first time that prayer has been important to me, but still it is a mystery how God uses it. I want to be involved in that mystery, not necessarily to understand it, but just to have a part in it. Somehow God attaches great power to prayer and I love to see him be powerful , up close and personal.
I think it was good that we asked God for healing for Dennis. Why would we not? But it is also okay that he has not been healed because perfect health is not the only blessing God can bring with a hard experience. And we have always known that we will die at some time – it’s just the end part of being human. We will not waste the experience by becoming bitter or turning away from the most exciting relationship humanity has ever been offered. No, neither Dennis nor I feel any disappointment with God, or the way he has exhibited his friendship with us.
He has been “with” us. Sometimes he has been a peaceful presence on my walks. Sometimes he has sent others to us to spend time or offer help. I’m often told that I’m not alone and have felt like saying “Well, I feel pretty alone in spite of what you say.” But now I receive that differently. God puts that sentiment on the lips of others to remind me that he is with me, even when people are not. That’s enough. He is not named “Immanuel” for no reason.
I Just Have to Say... 