What Today Feels Like

Slowly, the grief is subsiding to manageable levels. I'm sleeping better. This is the fourth really significant death I've experienced in the last 12 yeas, and for each one, I end up having wakeful nights for quite a while afterwards. Last night I did wake a few times but managed to go back to sleep after a short time. I also started working again yesterday . . . fewer hours than a regular day but enough to feel that my life is getting back to a routine.

Right now, I feel as though I'm walking around holding something inside the core of my being— a kettle filled to the brim with scalding liquid. If I move slowly and carefully enough, I'll be all right. If I get jostled, the kettle will slosh over and I'll start sobbing again, and some of my bouts of crying have been so intense I couldn't breathe for a few minutes and that gets scary. But as enough time passes, I think the contents of the kettle will cool enough so I can pour them out, little by little, and not get burned.

I don't know if that makes sense. But it's how I feel.

Bonhoeffer quotation

My pastor, Fr. Clyde Elledge of Annunciation of Our Lady Episcopal Church, conducted the service for my mother, and part of it contained this Bonhoeffer quotation. I found it very moving:

"Nothing can make up for the absence of someone whom we love, and it would be wrong to try and find a substitute; we must simply hold out and see it through. That sounds very hard at first; but at the same time it is a great consolation, for the gap, as long as it remains unfilled, preserves the bond between us. It is nonsense to say that God fills the gap; God does not fill it, but on the contrary, keeps it empty, and so helps us to keep alive our former communion with each other, even at the cost of pain."

I Know That My Redeemer Liveth

That's the piece from the Messiah that I'm clinging to today as I sit in the hotel waiting to leave for the funeral.

Here's a link to YouTube. (They won't let me embed.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qtU1c5JZf0k

Thank you again for all your prayers. I know they are giving me strength.

Myrtle Hoglund Hull, RIP

My mom passed away about an hour ago. Thank you for all your prayers.

This photo was taken at her 90th birthday party in May.

my visit with Mom

First, thank you all for your prayers. I know they have given me strength, and I'm sure they are giving my mother peace and comfort.

I'm so glad I went to see her yesterday. She was more out of it even than I expected, and she could not respond to me verbally at all. (The nursing home has her heavily medicated because keeping her pain free is their priority right now.) She was moving somewhat restlessly in bed, but she did turn her face to me, and later she held my hand for a long time.

I told her I love her and that I was sorry for the times I hurt her and I forgave her for the times she's hurt me. She told me a few years ago that she fears death, so I read her John 14:1-6 and told her not to be afraid. I told her everything would be all right.

I have no way of knowing if my words sank in at all. So I prayed that the Holy Spirit would reach in and communicate with her at a level far deeper than my words could reach, and after praying that for a while, she calmed down and drifted off to sleep.

I have to believe that the visit made a difference.

Now we just wait.

I feel much more at peace about our relationship. I'm very tired, and I hurt both physically and emotionally, but I know this is just part of the process.

Thank you again for your prayers. Please keep remembering her. I'm praying that she has a peaceful passing.

prayers requested

I know I'm supposed to be taking a blog break, but I could use prayers. One of those pianos I didn't mention in my last post is about to come crashing on my head.

My mom has gone into decline. She's not eating, and half the time, she thinks my younger brother is our deceased oldest brother or she asks about my father, who's also gone. As of today, she has been switched to hospice care. I'm going down to see her this afternoon to make sure I get there before it's too late.

The nurses won't give any definite predictions, of course, but the hospice nurse told Bob today that it could be a couple of days or a couple of weeks. At any rate, I don't expect that she will last till Christmas.

Sunday will be the anniversary of my brother's death.

I'm alternating between grief and numbness.

Juggling Pianos

A friend of mine uses the expression juggling pianos to describe that feeling of trying to do too many things and the resultant fear that something is going to come crashing down on your head.

I've been feeling that way about my life. The only good thing is that it is mostly self-inflicted, and so I can make some changes to alleviate it.

On the work front, I have worked harder and longer the last 15 months than at any other time in the last 15 years. We're still experiencing financial issues because of a string of unexpected expenses this year, and it's very discouraging to work so hard and not make much progress.

I expect to be working somewhat more than full-time for at least the next six months, perhaps longer. I'm grateful, but I'm also anxious about it. It's very hard to do the personal creative work I crave when I'm working such long hours at a creative job.

My first choice has been made. I've decided already to give up on the Suite 101 idea. The subject about which I'm most qualified to write (history) doesn't generate enough advertising revenue to make it worth my while. It would be better for me to use that time on my regular jobs.

Then there is the crazy patchwork quilt of my creative work. I'm taking an art class, . . . but I'm not finding any drawing time outside class.

I write poetry and fiction . . . but very sporadicallly. And it's difficult to find time to market my work.

I want to start writing a memoir but I haven't even begun the outline.

I blog but only two or three times a week, and I don't keep up with reading the posts of others.

I have activities at church that I've been skipping more often than not. I've had a hard time keeping up with my half of the household chores. And now we have Christmas bearing down upon us with all its extra activities and responsibilities.

I can't do it all. No one's been asking me to do it all except myself, but that's sort of the point. I need to take more control of this creative force that drives me so hard and channel it so it's more productive. I feel like, except for the freelance work for which I get paid, I'm doing a half-assed job at everything. The things I care most about get only the leftover scraps of my attention.

So one of the things I'm going to do this Advent is to listen and pray about priorities. I have to decide to let go of some things. Michael and I have talked about it, and we feel certain that my art class is going to stay. But all those other creative pursuits . . . including this blog . . . have to be reconsidered. I think I need to choose quality of effort rather than quantity of creative avenues. For 2010, I think I need to choose one or two areas of focus rather than three or four.

So I'm taking Advent off from blogging. If I decide to continue with it, I'll be back next year. If I don't, I'll post a farewell.