Wishes for my Grandson

 

My grandson, Gershon, is 7 years old.  He has a difficult life right now.  His parents are divorced and do not get along with each other.  His dad’s parents do not think that my daughter is a suitable parent and subsequently spend a great deal of their time and resources to take him and his sister away from her – Gershon is caught in the middle.  Being caught in the middle is a really rough place to find yourself when you are 7.  When you are 7 you should be happy and carefree.  The biggest worry in your life should be where you left your backpack and when your next snack is going to come your way.  You should not have to worry whether your grandparents are going to take you away from your mom and when the police are going to get called next.

I wonder what my inner landscape was like when I was 7.  By 7, I had already been the object of my brother’s sexual exploration and had experienced quite a lot of chaos and several moves.  My mother was present in body but not in spirit.  My dad worked day and night trying to build a successful real estate business.  My oldest brother had been kicked out of school and sent away to live with relatives and my younger brother hardly showed his face around the house.  I don’t remember much about being 7 but I imagine that I had more than my share of stress as well.

I think to myself that a “normal” kid life should be happy, free-spirited and stress-free but maybe that is a perfect picture that really doesn’t happen on this planet.  Maybe just by being born as a spark of the Divine trying to manifest in an animal body on a classroom planet into a family with generations of cracked and broken DNA – maybe we will all automatically struggle to handle what we are given to wrestle with and heal.

Maybe true happiness does not come from being born into a family where the marriage is stable, the care is reliable and fair, all the extended family is supportive and helpful and the schools are excellent.  Maybe true happiness comes from the journey:  the willingness to look fairly and honestly at what you got and what you didn’t get as a child, the courage to accept it and get help with the healing, and the faith to believe that the Universe doesn’t make mistakes and you are in your right place and in your right process.      

It is hard to watch Gershon struggle, but it is exciting to watch he and his mother go to therapy, grow stronger through the process and still grab all the joy that they can between hard times.  I can’t see his future – he may fall into anger and resentment toward a father and a set of grandparents that were willing to sandwich him into the middle of their trauma and drama.  We all have that choice when we have tough stuff happen to us during our early years.  However, I believe that there is also a great chance that he can use the healing of these difficult times to build a solid foundation for a great life and a lot of joy. 

My step-daughter sent her dad this quote by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross:  “The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.” 

This is what I hope for my grandson.  This is what I hope for us all.

Honoring the Elders

I last posted a blog almost 4 years ago.  At that time, I was seeing 8 to 10 clients a week, writing almost every day and enjoying my husband, my house and my 15 pound Havenese.  All of this suddenly changed when it became clear that my husband's parents, Mike and Lee Loewen, needed more help than was available to them in Harrison, AR and we moved them in with us.

Care for elderly parents, especially in one's home, is far more difficult than I could ever have imagined.  Mike had fairly advanced Parkinson's Disease which included difficulties with balance and mobility and Lee's dementia made many tasks very difficult for her.  Living alone was no longer an option for them, but living without their own home, their own car and the friends and church that they were used to was very difficult for them. When their frustration blew up into anger it tended to spew toward me - the one who was home with them.  As they declined and I became weary of the extra work, we hired more and more help which eased some of my physical stress but added extra people and extra chaos to our already invaded home.  I felt exhausted and battle-weary with every nerve in my body crying out for solitude and deep rest.

Lee slowly declined and passed away on hospice in our home on October, 14, 2011.  Mike, lonely and lost without his wife of 64 years lived on for another 7 months until he also passed away on May 18, 2012. 

After living under these trying circumstances for almost three years and then losing two parents in seven months, my husband and I struggled to recover our lives, move through our grief and make sense of our shock.  We took a couple of nice trips, held each other and spent a lot of time asking the Universe for help in our recovery process.  Then, in October of 2012, only 5 months after Mike's passing, my mother became ill and again needed more care than we could provide long distance.

On December 11, 2012 we moved my mother in and again began the journey of in-home elder care.  This time things moved much more quickly and Anna E Perkins, passed away in a hospital bed in our living room on January 15, 2013.

For the last 3 1/2 years, I have not blogged, I have not written, I have not gone to yoga, I have not had my own space or much of my own time.  For the last 3 1/2 years I have been present for and honored three dear elders as they passed to the other side.  I have cried with grief, I have cried with frustration.  I have begged God to help them die more quickly; I have begged God to help them stay longer.  It was the hardest thing that I have ever done; it was the sweetest thing that I have ever done.

I am recovering.  I am working again, I am writing again, and I am beginning to feel normal once more.  I am still trying to process the last 3 1/2 years and make sense of all that has changed for us.  Besides the obvious changes of losing three parents in 15 months, my husband and I are deeply and dramatically forever changed.  The process of stretching ourselves in order to help others in such an intimate way changed us on every level - we are emotionally stronger, mentally more flexible and spiritually more stable.  I feel so blessed and honored that each of them trusted us and our home as a safe place to come at such a vulnerable time.  I feel humbled that my husband and I are now the elders of our families and I pray for help in taking their places as the wise ones.

My mentor and friend, Lee Kaiser, once said that when we pray for patience God responds by sending us many difficult people and difficult situations so that we might have the opportunity to learn patience.  Then we respond by complaining.  I have to admit that the last 3-plus years gave me a lot of opportunities to grow in patience, kindness and compassion.  I also have to admit that I did a fair amount of complaining.  I was not perfect as I moved through this time, but I have grown and for that I am deeply grateful.