I’m finally working up the nerve to write about the loss my family has experienced. It’s taken almost two weeks. My eyes are already watering and I imagine that this post will be written through a veil of tears.

On October 18 my maternal grandfather, Thomas W. Cade, passed away peacefully while sitting in his recliner, having just taken a few sips of his coffee. He couldn’t have scripted a more suitable ending for himself if he’d tried.

Grief is a strange thing.  A dear friend of mine who is battling her own grief has taught me so much during her journey, and she probably has no idea she has done so. Grief looks different for everyone. My grief will not look like your grief, and it may take me months to move from one stage to the next while it only takes you a few days or weeks. And it’s okay. It’s okay if I sit in the angry  or depressed phase for a bit. I’ll process it and move on at in my own timing.

I’ve had to deal with a good bit of death from afar. Several people I had known most of my life passed away while we were in Naples. I think we process death and go through a different grieving process when we aren’t “at home”. When you are “at home” you live everyday without that person. You get acclimated to them not being there. You’re able to clean out things, go to the cemetery, pack up clothes and shaving kits and bottles of cologne. You get a smaller coffee pot because you no longer need to make coffee for two, but one. You develop a new normal.

When you are away from “home”, you are removed from the situation. You not there to hold the hand of your mom as silent tears fall down her saddened face. You can’t help pack up the 30 pairs of khakis hanging in the closet. Quite honestly, it makes it somewhat easier to deal with it all in the beginning. Your life goes on and while you think about the person who died you aren’t constantly reminded of their lack of presence. That all changes when you go back “home”. Things that were there when you left after the funeral aren’t there. A chair, a couple of caps by the door, a Ralph Lauren blue jacket, glasses on a dresser. They are all gone. And while everyone who has been there has been able to walk through the process of that change you are bombarded with it, sometimes with no warning. And the wound of that loss is ripped open and you have to deal with emotions and feelings that others have maybe already dealt with. If you’ve never lived “away” you can’t understand what it’s like to come back to someone not being there. I’ll never forget coming back from Italy and playing the piano in the church I grew up in. I looked out and a woman I’d known and loved my entire life wasn’t there. She wasn’t sitting by her husband. I was so shaken I didn’t think I’d make through the service. I hadn’t thought about not seeing her there. And sitting on that piano bench, I grieved.

 Through all the grief, the sense of loss, the handshakes of friends, I think I finally the following verses:
1 Thessalonians 5:16 “Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”
Isaiah 26:3-4 “You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You.”
My granny has been a pillar. Though her heart is broken, I saw her praise God, laugh, give to others, and reach out to others in our family and among her friends that were grieving. Though she had lost her husband of over 60 years, I witnessed her strength of character, love of her God, deep desire that to see Tom’s death bring about good, and her joy through tears of sorrow.

If my husband goes before me, I pray that I will handle his passing with the grace, peace, joy, love, selflessness and thanksgiving as my granny has done with the passing of her husband.

Lil’ Paul walked around the house with a tube of toothpaste he had swiped from under my nose saying, “Bo-bo….bo-bo,” as he wiped toothpaste on his leg trying to fix his bo-bo.

Gingernut, taking on her alter-ego, Lily Puppy, has taken to howling “Oh, How I Love Jesus” at the top of her lungs. It’s sweet and precious and blesses my heart. It also makes me laugh.

Lil’ Paul sneaks into the fridge any chance he can. He usually looks for Gingernut’s undrunk milk from the morning, swipes it, runs to the back porch/playroom, shuts the door, hides in the corner, and proceeds to guzzle as much of her milk as possible before someone finds him. Today there was no milk cup but there was a half used can of evaporated milk that he proceeded to dump all over my couch.

You never know if Gingernut is being herself or some animal. If you call her Lily Puppy when she is not being Lily Puppy she will now say, “No! I’m not Lily Puppy; I’m just Lily.” I’m so happy to have clarification instead of having to go through a list of alter-egos before saying the correct one.

Lil’ Paul never meets a stranger. You know this because while in any store or standing in any line he will begin make kissy faces at the closest female. He does not discriminate against age, color, or religion.

As I type this Lil’ Paul is trying to get my camera. When I tell him “No” he just looks at me and bats his eyes, like that will make me change my mind. Melt my heart it will, change my mind…not so much.

Thank you for tuning in to this edition of “The latest antics from Gingernut and Lil’ Paul.” Check back soon as I am 100% positive that there are more to come.

Lover of her child’s antics,
MacKenzie

To wrap up our week of service we decided to head to the fair on Friday night. Also because I entered this chocolate fudge mousse cake into a food competition.

Let’s just go ahead and get the cake disaster out of the way. It looked pretty stinkin’ good at this point. By the time we had arrived at the fair, it had started to slide a bit. “No big deal,” I thought. “It’ll hold up for a little longer.” By the time judging was over that cake was looking like the leaning tower of Pisa. Needless to say…no blue or any other color ribbon. By the time we got the thing home it had completely fallen over in the box. I had promised our friend Nick the cake after the fair was over; he didn’t seem to mind that it was a future indicator of what the leaning tower of Pisa will look like when it finally decides to commit to falling over.

After dropping the cake off in its designated location, we began our fair adventure. Everything seemed to be going great at first. We saw some petting zoo type animals that according to North Carolina law you can now only feed from a distance…NO TOUCHING. I know this because signs were posted every five feet around the fence. I know you are asking, “How do you feel a sheep from a distance?” They had a giant PVC pipe cut in half lengthwise that you can drop your carrots/approved animal food down. We did not participate in this part because I didn’t want to pay $1 for carrots to feed sheep from afar.

We then walked over to some of the kiddie rides when Lily decided to have her first mini crisis/breakdwon. She desperately wanted to ride the ponies. Why not? It’s fair day, right? Crisis 1 averted easily.

Five dollars later Lily was on a pony. Caleb? He was crying, squirming, screaming, and making other parents give me judgmental looks. Why? He, too, wanted to ride a pony. So five more dollars later, Caleb is having the time of his life riding his first pony. You would have thought we handed him the moon. It was precious and melted my heart a tad bit.

We then moved on to get a couple of dinosaur tattoos and some Halloween stickers from the nice people from the zoo. Seeing how it was after 6:00 and I was really hungry, I suggested that we go eat. It was on this walk to get food that Crisis 2 happened. Paul and I were casually talking when Lily starts screaming like a screech owl.

“What’s wrong, honey? What is it?,” we both asked excitedly.

“MY STICKER!!”

 Really? REALLY? Now people really were giving us the stink eye.
Paul backtracked quickly to find the sticker and find it he did because he is super dad. Crisis 2 handled.

Finally, my favorite part came, the fair food. That’s the whole reason to go to the fair, right? Anyone, anyone…surely it’s not just me….

After eating we headed off to find the 75 cent sweet tea Heather told me about that was under the ferris wheel. What do we discover? Our son has no shoes on. Since Paul raced to find the sticker it was my turn to race back through the crowd of fair diners to find his shoes. Luckily they were under the table we had sat at. Crisis number 3 handled.

We made the fatal error of entering into the Midway, which is where the rides were located. Lily, excited by lights and the excitement of all things fair, wanted to ride every single ride there. Unfortunately, we spent all our money on food and ponies. Crisis 4 begins. Crying, screaming, and pouting start and don’t stop until we tell her we are going to go see our friend Cary, who works at the fair. Cary saved the day in more ways than one.

After a little while longer, we waited with anticipation only to learn I did not win a ribbon with my leaning cake.

Then it was time to say goodnight. After all those crisis we’d handled, could you blame us? 

Goodnight Dixie Classic Fair, we’ll see ya next year, hopefully with a few less breakdown,
Maker of Leaning Cakes

Last Wednesday I started making my first tiered cake. It was for my friends’ adoption gala. I spent countless hours combing through websites on how to move the cake, how to stack the layers, how to stack the tiers, etc. When time came to assemble the cake, I am surprised I didn’t have to breath into a bag for a few minutes in efforts to calm myself. But with the help of Paul and my friend Heather, the bottom two layers were assembled on Thursday afternoon and Friday morning.

Another friend, Lynsey Driver, made the cupcakes for the Gala and she helped with the final assembly and finishing touches of the cake.

And somehow…miraculously…the two of us were able to get the cake to the table with no incident…well, almost, but like they say, “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.” Or in our case, “What happens in the little kitchen at Pinebrook Country Club, stays in the little kitchen at Pinebrook Country Club.”

Here’s the finished product:

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This is Stephen and Ally. You may remember them from the Sunday Lunch Bunch post I wrote a few months ago.

I bet you’re asking, “Why in the world, MacKenzie, have you put up this picture of your friends?”

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The Gala was great. The food was good, there were great things to bid on in the silent auction, the music was stellar (both the play list and Wesley Johnson). But we weren’t there for the food or for stellar music. We were there to help Chase and Kelley bring their children home. Kelley spoke a little bit about their adoption process and also gave some facts/statistics. I’d like to share them with you if you will indulge me for just a few moments.

-There are 153, 000, 000 orphans in the world.
-There are 4.3 million orphans in Ethiopia.
-In Ethiopia one in six orphans will not reach their fifth birthday.

As disturbing as all of this was for me to hear and as hard as it has been for me to digest it, the hardest thing was this: They’ve been told from other couples who have adopted from Ethiopia that  they should pray that their babies are in cribs in the front of the room because the babies in the back of the room hardly ever get held or touched or changed or talked to or played with or even looked at. I can hardly even type this without being overcome with emotion and heartache. As Kelley said, it is the luck of the draw for the children. They have no control over what bed they are in, it’s just whatever crib is available when they arrive. The workers in that country have over 4 million children to attend…an overwhelming and I can imagine somewhat defeating task. But those innocent children have no voice. Those babies in the back of the room have no advocate. They are alone, in the back of a room.

But where does all this leave me?

I have broken down more than once since Friday. My heart is aching and broken. I want to go and hold every child that has never been held, never known a loving touch, never heard a lullaby, never heard “I love you” whispered in their ear. I am broken…absolutely broken. This isn’t something that has happened since Friday. Adoption has been in my mind for a while. But when Kelley shared with us about the cribs in the back of the room it became very real for me for some reason. I don’t know why that is what has stirred me but it has.

I know that I cannot hold every child that has no mother. But I could hold one or two maybe. Couldn’t I? I ask and hear, “Not now.” And I keep asking, “When? When, O Lord, will I get to be a mother to the motherless? Provide a home for the homeless? Sing a lullaby to the child who has never been sung to as he drifts off to sleep?”

And He continues to say, “Wait.”

So I wait. And now, I pray for those babies in cribs in the back of the room.

Let’s play “Guess what’s in Caleb’s hair”.

Lotion?…No, not today.

Soap?…No. He hasn’t tried that one yet.

Medicine?…Again, not today.

Diaper rash cream?…Nope.

Shampoo?…Guess again.

Hair gel…Paul’s hair gel. It’s so obvious you don’t even think of it. 

Croup – inflammation, edema, and subsequent obstruction of the larynx, trachea, and bronchi especially of infants and young children that is typically caused by a virus and is marked by episodes of difficult breathing and hoarse metallic cough

Who has this nasty, revolting sounding croup???

 

That ER visit just took it out of him… that is until I attempted to pick him up and put him in his crib….Apparently that is about the time the steroids he was given at the ER decided to kick in.

By the end of the night he was bouncing off the walls a wee bit.

 He couldn’t even hold still for me to get a picture of him in his new Elmo pj’s.

He was just too busy running around the kitchen with his tongue hanging out to stop for a photo op.
Had this been my other child, there would have been posing and smiling like I was a photographer for Vogue.

 This is about when he and Lily started to bark back and forth to one another from the living room to the kitchen. Steroids can work all kinds of wonders apparently.

The croup is still there, but lil’ man is feeling much better thanks to Nurse Michelle and her wonderful vial of steroids.

Thankful for ERs, Tylenol, steroids, and popsicles,
MacKenzie

 Tell me, how in the world do you say “No” to this?? Tell me, just tell me.

Lily spend the evening inventing new dance moves. I think this one is called “The Crazy, Disco Monkey”.

Then, as if it had called his name, Caleb found the comb I’d been using to comb Lily’s hair, and proceeded to play barber shop on my head. Not wanting to be left out of the fun, Lily joined in.

  Don’t let these pictures fool you…

there was a lot of pain involved in the playing of barber shop…

I am surprised I didn’t get a concussion from all the blows to the head I took from being on the other end of that comb…

but I wouldn’t trade being there playing barber shop with them for anything…slight concussion and all.

 

One of REVO’s local strategic ministry partners is Salem Pregnancy Care Center. They exist “to serve Jesus Christ by promoting sexual purity, and through life-affirming ministry to those touched by a crisis pregnancy as they make decisions regarding pregnancy, parenting, adoption, and relationship issues.” We’ve been volunteering there before we even launched back in February 2011.

I am pretty sure at some point in the last year I have mentioned my friend, Erin Etheridge, aka the Fierce Beagle. She had a great idea several months ago – make blankets for the babies of the women who turn to Salem Pregnancy for help. Her name for the blankets…Wrapped in Love.

I fell in love with the idea and wanted to see something she has been dreaming of for a long time become a reality. In the beginning of the summer we hashed out some details, sent out emails, spread the word and got started making blankets. Anyone could come and learn how to sew, crochet or knit. Beginners, experts…all were invited.

We started back in August with around 8 of us making blankets. Erin’s goal was to have 15 of them by September. We have one more week of sewing, crocheting, and knitting, and we are going to end up with over 20 blankets.

 My friend, Amber, is at the head of the table in this picture. We’ve all been trying for about a month to figure out how to work her sewing machine. I think Erin’s grandmother, Mrs. Alice, who is to the left of Amber, figured out how to thread the machine. We’ve all struggled with this machine. Hopefully, it’s up and running now.

This is Ms. Mary, Erin’s other grandmother. Shes’ Irish. She says such words as “wee” and “lovely”. She has become one of the highlights of my week. I look forward to Tuesday because I know I will see her. I purposefully bring my crocheting so I can have an excuse to sit by her on the couch as she works on her knitting so I can talk to her, not that either of us gets much work done. She has lived an incredible life, seen amazing things, and is one of the loveliest people I know. She reminds me of my grandmothers, and I guess sitting with her for a couple of hours every week makes me somehow feel closer to them. I absolutely cherish this wee, lovely, Irish woman.

Lily is having an allergic reaction that is covering her entire body…

the doctor said to give her antihistamine medicine and it should be gone in 3-4 days…

it’s going to be a long 3-4 days for my sweet, allergic-to-something-but-I-don’t-know-what girl.

Concerned but trying to not worry,
Mom of the darling child in above pictures