Living with The Amazing Hairy Houdini...

I wrote in September of my newly adopted Wheaton terrier, Lucy Belle Boswell.  I can’t believe it has only taken 9 long months for Lucy and me to have become one in soul and spirit. 

I have grown to love this wonderful animal with all my heart and I can say is without a doubt,  the feeling is mutual.  Lucy loves me dearly.

A short review of Lucy’s history.  I adopted her through S’Wheat Rescues. You would have thought I was donating a kidney on top of adopting a special needs, very old child from a 3rd world country.  I filled out form after form, I went through numerous phone interviews, a home visit and had to give personal references to ensure I wasn’t some kind of dog molester.

I finally passed the test and was allowed to drive to Dallas, pay for this 9 year old animal, only to find myself with a mangy, high anxiety dog that was not potty trained, and had a list of maladies.  It was love at first sight and Lucy and I are now joined at the hip.

No longer is her coat mangy but now full and shiny.  Anxiety issues and even our potty issues have become non existent.  This is on great, adorable hunk of fur.  Tthe greatest dog ever!  

Except...

I will take full responsibility for the girl’s current unfortunate behavior.  All winter long Lucy loved riding in the car with me.  No matter where I went, or how long I would leave her in the car, Lucy was happy just to be “with” me.  Now winter’s in San Antonio are mild, but even on cold days Lucy was comfy lounging on my once very lovely leather car seats.  Windows cracked, she dozed away while I was grocery shopping, running a day’s worth of errands or even going out to dinner.  

On the days I simply couldn’t take Lucy, she had the run of the new house, using the doggy door to come and go at her leisure.  We were great, all was well, we had found our rhythm, with everyone.

The weather is now getting hot, too hot for Lucy to sit in a car.  About 2 weeks ago, I left to run a few quick errands and came home to find her standing in the front yard.  She was mad I had left her, I know as I can read her like a book.  How did she get out of the yard?  I checked my two wrought iron gates, I had special grills made to keep her from squirming through.  I made the grills about 4 feet tall and there seems absolutely no way even a Chihuahua could slip through, not to mention a 35 pound furry knee-high dog.

I checked all along the perimeter of the fence, maybe she had dug a hole and gone under...no.  I decided it was a fluke and blew it off.  The next Saturday morning I ran to Lowe’s for some plants.  I drove up to find Lucy leashed to a tree in the front yard.  My neighbor quickly came to tell me she had escaped and he couldn’t entice her back into the backyard so, fearing for her safety, had secured her to a tree.  Now both of us began investigating the yard but again, there was no escape route.  

I was mystified, was this dog “faster than a speeding bullet! More powerful than a locomotive! Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound!”  No, that would be Superman.  No, this precious old furry female was more like the Amazing Hairy Houdini.

The next day I was to leave for the Boswell Family Reunion.  I arranged for my housekeeper  Gloria to come check on Lucy, walk and feed her.  I had just turned onto I-35 when I got a call from a neighbor saying Lucy had come to visit her while she worked in her front yard.  Kindly, she took Lucy home, put her in the backyard and about two minutes later Lucy was back by her side.  Loucini had escaped and now she had her routine down pat.

I was in a pickle, I needed to be at this reunion, it was the family’s first without Steve.  I couldn’t turn around and come home.  I called Brooke and Jared.  They shut Lucy in my guest bathroom and she waited for Gloria to come free her.  Wonderful Gloria loves Lucy as much as I do, so she stayed the night and waited for me to get home.

This is the first time since my Israel trip that I have had back-to-back trips planned. Now I was not only looking at having to board Lucy, but somehow I had to secure my gates for even the brief times I was gone.

Having little to no time between trips and unable to board Lucy on such short notice I took a family member’s suggestion, (thanks Justin, it worked) and here are my new gates.

I’m sure the neighbors are thrilled.  While temporary, it does seem to have stopped Loucini from escaping, however I can’t very well leave this unsightly barrier for my neighbors to deal with, least they think Jeff Foxworthy and crew had moved in.

Side Gate…Loucini escape proof

Tonight I took down the tarps, bricks and boards.  I sat for a good 20 minutes hiding behind a bush on the side yard spying on my crying, pitiful hound yelping, "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free...” 

I swear she eyed me crouched there behind that bush, and she out waited me.  I sat there thinking, what is she looking for?  Why is it her goal to escape?  Doesn’t she have everything she could ever want or need right at her paw-tips?  Doesn’t she realize how much I love her, that I will always come back to her?

Then it dawned on me, as I crouched, with gravel embedding itself into my knees and palms of my hands...I’m very much like Lucy.  In my own way, I too am trying to scratch, paw and dig my way out of loneliness, out of this empty void I’m feeling, out of grief.  Lately I’m finding, while I have created a home full of all the comforts I could ever want, the one thing I want most is beyond my grasp.

Unlike Lucy, I know that escaping my backyard won’t bring Steve back. In the same way I sit and watch my sweet old dog trying to escape, knowing she is in the best place she could ever find herself.  I wonder if God sits, gravel kneed waiting for me to finally get it?  He knows that I am exactly where I am meant to be.  Why can't I figure this out?

I wonder if God is shaking his head, trying to tell me he’s provided for all my needs, “Be patient Janet, I won’t ever leave you.  Learn to be content and enjoy this place where I have enabled you to have all you need to be satisfied and at peace.”

Oh I was right at the beginning of this saga, Lucy and I are one soul, one spirit, when will we ever learn?

For what it’s worth,

Janet

Hebrews 13:5 “...be content with what you have, because God has said, Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.”

Maundy Thursday...

It has always been one of my favorite church services of the year.  Some of us know it as Christ’s Last Supper, the night Jesus spent in the Garden of Gethsemane...the beginning of the end of Christ’s life on earth. 

It is difficult for me to celebrate Easter Sunday without going through the Holy Week services, attending Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday and Tenebrae Friday. I try to envision and feel Christ’s last days and his sacrifice for us, for me, this is what makes this holiday such a special one.

Tonight’s Maundy Thursday service took on several new levels of meaning for me.  I was reminded of my Israel trip.  We were able to visit the Upper Room, but most moving was visiting the Garden of Gethsemane.  We arrived a few minutes before closing and it is a place I will always hold dear to my heart.  Beautiful, serene, olive trees that date back to more than 2000 years ago. We arrived as the garden was about to close, church bells pealed the hour.  I so hope this short video will give you an inkling of it’s beauty.

I am thankful for that trip, I have written about it in earlier entries.  I was able to spread some of Steve’s ashes at various spots throughout the trip and the garden was one of those spots.  I spread some of his ashes at the foot of a gnarled old olive tree and quietly spoke of my love for him and how he had blessed my life.

Tonight’s service brought back the memory of that trip and as I sat there listening to the minister read from the Gospel of John about Christ time in that garden...I was there.  What a gift!

The minister gave a brief message and spoke of “Last Suppers”.  What different last suppers looked like for various people...a student’s last dinner at home before leaving for college...examples such as that.  

My mind wandered to my last supper with Steve, the night he died.  I wrote about this night on one of my last Caring Bridge entries and I would like to share some of that with you again as I feel this also brought a new level of meaning to me.

I wrote...”The Hospice doctor had visited Steve around 3 p.m. Monday and felt he was stable enough to dismiss the critical care nurses on Tuesday.  Steve would now be bed bound, his speech--difficult, his breathing labored, life was dismissal.  He knew it and I knew it and we were both frightened.  I believe Steve, having all of his medical knowledge, knew far more of what he was facing than I knew and he grew silent.  I paced, prayed and sat by his side.  Bonnie remained with us throughout.  Oh how grateful I will forever be to my sweet sister for giving all of herself to us through this time. 

Evening came, I brought Steve a requested baked potato and a glass of wine to his bed tray and I decided to take mine in and have dinner with him.    Steve and I have always loved our dinners together.  We’d often find ourselves sitting for an up to an hour over a glass of wine after dinner, laughing about our past, our life together, our love affair with one another.  

In mid-April Steve mentioned to me one night during one of our talks that he had set a goal for himself.  Curiously I asked him what it was?  He said, “I want to live until July 20th .”  

Puzzled why he had chosen that date, I asked, “Why the 20th ?”  His soft response was, “Because then I will have known you for 20 years.”  I told him that was a deal and I kissed him and made him promise to keep his goal. 

Monday night, the 8th, it was becoming more difficult for him to see, he was so weak that I was having to spoon up his bites and help him hold the wine to his mouth but he ate.  While we were eating I started talking about our first date, my white puffy shirt, how nervous I was to even be having a date, I rattled on and on saying anything to try to quiet his ever increasing labored breathing.  

I have no doubt that at the end of my story God spoke to my heart, because the next thing I heard myself saying was, “Steve, you know what today is don’t you?”  He looked at me with his sweet questioning eyes?  I finished my sentence, “Today is July 20th.”  “Really…?” he asked, I nodded.  He closed his eyes, smiled and leaned back into his pillow.  He then held out his wine glass and simply said, “More.”  He had a piece of his favorite German chocolate cake that our wonderful neighbor Casey had made for him.  Closed his eyes and slept. “

Steve died around 11:00 p.m. that night.  It was our Last Supper together.  

I don’t want to in any way compare this moment to the sacrament of our Lord’s Last Supper, nothing should ever compare to those moments of Christ’s sacrifice.  What I did find sitting in that service tonight, thinking about Steve’s last hours were that I discovered a new level of meaning in this worship experience.  

I think I better understand the love God has for me.  When I allowed myself to love Steve enough to say good-bye, to give him permission to go because I knew it was his time, because I knew it was best for him...I suddenly realized how much more God sacrificed in giving up his Son.  Loving us enough to allow Christ to know it was his time, that his death was best, necessary for each of us, and allowing Christ to pass on this message to his disciples that night in the Upper Room and in the Garden.

Mark 12:29-31 “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord alone. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength, and love your neighbor as yourself.”

I have friends tonight who are suffering greatly.  A friend lost her father today, just 13 days after her mother died.  She is hurting so very much.  Another long time friend, is battling cancer with all her might tonight, she and her precious family are struggling together.  Another friend from the past is about to celebrate Easter without her son.  A gentle young man who took his own life fearing this life was too much for him.  I can’t begin to imagine the loss and suffering of that sweet family.

We all suffer at different times, on various levels and in different ways.  But let us not forget, with every Maundy Thursday, following every Good Friday, there will be an Easter morning. 

 “Jesus Christ is risen; He is risen indeed” (based on Luke 24:34)

Happy Easter!

Janet

Hurdles...

It is 8 P.M. on Saturday night, tomorrow is Steve’s birthday, would have been Steve’s birthday.  As I sit to write this entry, my first thought is I will never enter it on this blog.  I’m writing because I’m not sure what else to do with the hours ahead of me.

I worked hard in the yard all day today.  Planting, fertilizing, pulling weed after weed.  Midday it hit me, I felt strongly that it was a nudge from God.  I needed to go see Evelyn, Steve’s mom.  Evelyn is an amazing women in her 90’s.  She is brilliant, sharp and capable, but she has physically had an incredibly rough year.  It seems she gets over one medical malady only to be faced with another, she’s one tough cookie and she endures.  

I have been a terribly negligent daughter-in-law.  I love our visits, yet I find I take little time to go and see her.  Life and stuff gets in my way and before I know it has been weeks since I saw her, much less called.  Guilt fills me and I question how I could allow this much time to pass between visits.

So, today midway through my digging and tending, I got this immediate urge to visit Evelyn and I needed to it before the sun set.  I made a run to HEB and bought a bottle of wine, bread, chips and ingredients to make jalapeño pimento cheese and mango mousse.  I called to make sure she was up for a visit, her response was so charged with surprise and joy, it made me feel guilt ridden, as I visit too rarely.

All I could think of was, what must it feel like to be reliving the birth of your first born and only son, only he is no longer here?  No mother should ever have to experience the celebration of the birth of a child without the presence of that child.

So off I went.  Packed up wine, wine glasses (one should never drink wine unless it is out of a wine glass), pimento cheese and the rest.

I walked in to her apartment at The Madison, an independent living community, and announced it was Happy Hour.  We drank our wine, nibbled on the pimento cheese and chips and caught up with our lives.  

We spoke briefly of Steve’s birthday.  Evelyn told me of the day Steve and I came to visit her, the day he told her of his brain tumor.  Her words were, “I will never forget Steve sitting here, he told me we was going to do ‘this’ well.”  She lightly touched her heart, tears welled up in both of our eyes and we spoke of Steve’s courage, strength and wisdom.

I came home to an empty house, an empty heart, and a big ole pity party.  I am at such a loss for words, for feelings.  So I write to fill this space.

Tomorrow is another landmark day to hurdle.  Then there is Easter and following that the maybe 60th,  Annual Boswell Family Reunion in Salado (an incredible extended family of cousins, who love and care for one another in an amazing way).  These are big hurdles and they are right on top of one another.  Can I leap each hurdle without crashing into the ground?  Can I conquer each feat without falling flat?  I pray my anticipation is worse than the actual occurrences (they usually are).

Steve & Bonnie with the Easter Bunny

Boswell Family Reunion 1950's

Easter 2012

Boswell Family Reunion 2005

Boswell Family Reunion 2013

Brooke made sure tomorrow, the birthday, is covered.  Wisely, she had Harper and Harris call me to ask me to go with them to Disney on Ice tomorrow afternoon.  Brooke had already broached this with me, knowing Steve’s birthday was going to be difficult.  I had put her off, saying I was fine, they needed to spend their Sunday, Palm Sunday, as a family.  

Miss Smarty Pants outsmarted me.  Anyone who has grand children knows a grandparent can’t say no to a request.  I have made it my mantra with my grand children.  I will always be there for them.  I will do anything I can to make their requests possible, and they can count on me for any thing, any time, any place.  So Brooke, had the littles call me, of course, I said yes.  A brilliant move Brooke, tomorrow will be filled with attending Palm Sunday worship with my children, Disney on Ice (I’m sure pictures will follow) and dinner, on me!  I have amazing children, thank you Brooke and Jared for sharing this day with me.

Before sitting down to write this, I was washing my face...doing my nightly almost 60 facial regime.  I sat looking at myself in the mirror.  I looked so sad, so vacant, so tired, so lost.  I smiled a great big fake smile that quickly turned sour.  I quickly turned out the light and came here to write this...

Life can be rough, it can knock you off your feet, it can deal you a hand that you want to slam on the table, throw in your chips and walk away...or you can make yourself smile that great big fake smile and thank God for every blessing he has enabled you to have and move forward...one hurdle at a time.

My choice:  I’m going to clear every hurdle and look straight ahead, for I continue to have much to be grateful.

For what it’s worth,

Janet

Psalm 31:14 “But I was trusting you, O Lord.  I said, ‘You alone are my God; my times are in your hands.”

Organizing...

I have spent the last few weeks striving to uber organize everything in my new home. From alphabetizing my spices, to compartmentalizing garage tools, to finding spots for office junk...files, supplies, pens, stamps, it goes on and on.  I thought if I did this now, while I’m still settling in I will be one of those people who “has a place for every thing and every thing is in its place.” Side-note: “Goodrich is known for having the first printed citation of the epigram: "Have a place for every thing, and keep every thing in its proper place.[2] The phrase was published in an article called "Neatness" which Goodrich published in The Ohio Repository (Canton, Ohio), in December 1827.”

So my neatness began.  I started with my closet.  Leaving a home with all built-in closet drawers, I bought some of Container Store drawers for my non-hanging clothes.  While at the Container Store, I shopped the isles trying to decide which pieces best suited my needs.  There was one piece that made me laugh out loud.  It’s called the 32-Compartment Drawer Organizer.  

32-Compartment Drawer Organizer

Laughing, because several years ago a group of our friends had gone on a short girls trip.  We had two suburbans full of women driving home and the conversation in our car somehow turned to who was the most organized of this group.  I will say, up front that of all of these 10+ women I am most likely the least organized.  Most of their homes are clutter free, each drawer and cabinet are neat and tidy and most impressive are their garages...cleaner than my kitchen.

We were bantering back and forth about who wasn’t really organized and what their secret shortcomings were that kept them from being crowned The Queen of Organization. It was then the question simply popped into my mind, so, as always, I blurted out “What does your underwear drawer look like?  Do you fold each pair of underwear and have a special spot for them, (thus needing the 32-Compartment Drawer Organizer from The Container Store) or do you take you underwear from the laundry room and simply dump it into its designated drawer?”  

I think we were all surprised to find out who the folders were from the dumpers.  We then called car #2 asking them if they folded or dumped their underwear?  You can only imagine where these conversations lead.  Even now, years later someone will randomly bring up the folding vs. dumping issue, laughter ensues.

I think it was interesting that the people who seemed so together and organized were underwear dumpers and only a very few were actually folders.  Why?  What causes some people to have the need to have everything in its proper place, yet underwear...is simply dumped in a drawer.  Not that any of this matters, just a little mindless fodder...are you a folder or a dumper?

Me?  I’m a dumper.  I can get organized, I just can’t stay organized.

Example:  Every Fall and Spring season I reorganize my closet.  You know, change out sweaters for shorts, boots for flip flops.  At the beginning of each season some power overwhelms me and I go hog wild and spend hours organizing my closet.  I neatly fold all my exercise clothes, label my shoe boxes, and I hang my tops and pants by the color code method.  I have as many white shirts as I do lamps... so I have all my white shirts on one rod, then all my black, and on through the rainbow.  At the end of my organizational frenzy I’m happy as a clam, standing akimbo, looking at my perfectly neat closet.  A masterpiece!  Even my drawers are in order, shorts folded, socks matched and yes, my undies folded and neatly stacked. 

White color coded shirts

Rainbow color coded shirts

Then comes a day when I’m looking for just the right outfit.  I start yanking tops to go with pants, no that’s wrong. I pull skirts, then jackets, then more pants, different tops.  Shoes are strewn all over the floor, boxes tossed to the side, trying to find the pair that looks right.  This goes on until I have a heap of clothes lying on my closet floor and I’m late for the event.  I pull on whatever, and my once organized closet has become a FEMA Hazard Zone.   

Coming home, I’m totally over the whole masterpiece closet fabulousness.  I throw my clothes back on any hanger I can find and stuff them into the first available spot.  From that point on until the following season, my closet is “Jimmy crack corn and I don’t care!”  Not to mention my underwear, p.j.’s, and workout clothes drawers, they lasted orderly for about a week. Oh, and no shoe ever finds it’s way back into the marked box until it is put away for the following season.

So thus is my life.  I guess I’m doomed to living life like a slob behind closed doors. I suppose I will continue to plow through drawers, cabinets, closets and a garage looking for what I know must be there somewhere, until I can’t stand it any longer and I have a bastion of sanity and begin reorganizing, again.

Do I need a 32-Compartment Drawer Organizer for my life?  Have I learned that no matter how much one plans and organizes, life always throws a kink in the “proper place for everything” mindset?  No one can keep their lives completely tidy and compartmentalized.  Does anyone really want to live life so regimented, so confined?

Maybe that’s why I’m an underwear stuffer, it’s just not worth the time.  I’d rather spend five extra seconds looking for a proper pair of undies than spend an hour setting up the 32-Compartment Drawer Organizer...not to mention, does anyone really have 32 pairs of undies?  I thought I was weird with 43 lamps!

After Steve discovered his time here would be shortened he became determined to have every thing in its proper place.  He spent long days making sure the house was in tip-top shape, all appliances, sprinkler system, heat/ac, roof, yard, money matters were in perfect order.  

Steve always knowing there was a place for every thing!

Umpire, Steve directing at US Open

Grandy in charge!

Then, something would go a rye.  We would find one of the cars needed some huge repair, an air conditioning unit needed replacing…it was constant, always something.  It drove him crazy as he so wanted to leave me with no issues, no problems that needed solving.  I tried many times to stop his need for orderliness, but it was useless, that was Steve.  He was a fixer, a caretaker, a giver and a bit of a perfectionist.  Life and time got in his way, but oh my, did he leave me with so little to deal with…my precious orchestrator.

Truth: I do have a 32-Compartment Drawer Organizer, he is my living Lord and if I take the time to go to him daily, sometimes hourly, I will find he will direct my path, keep my life in order and there will be no place for FEMA Hazard Zone markers.

Sure, I go through times when I’m frantically searching for just the right answer.  I pull out all the stops trying to find that solution on my own.  My life becomes out of control, full of fear and questions, overwhelming, a giant heap of a mess.  If I stop, and go to my Organizer, I find, in his perfect time he will show me how to find a place for every thing and a way to keep every thing that truly matters, in its proper place.

For what it's worth,

Janet

Psalm 32:8 “I will instruct you (says the Lord) and guide you along the best pathway for your life; I will advise you and watch your progress.”