Yesterday I met a very inspiring woman from Florida who found me through the blogs I have been writing about Grace. Pastor Jill contacted me via email after visiting my blog site given to her by a Pastor friend of hers from Texas. I was not surprised by the distance the blogs have reached, as I have been hearing from different people across the country regarding my site. Each week when I visit Grace, we not only go over the prior weeks published blog, we go through the list of followers, the comments from many of them, and the emails and messages sent to me regarding the strength and courage of not only Grace during this difficult time, but mine as well.
Grace and I have had many conversations about the strength and courage others see in her and myself. Often she tells me that much of her courage has been coming from others who find strength in her journey. I can tell you without a doubt that my strength and courage come from many sources in my life on a daily basis. I will remind everyone reading this, that this is not about my journey, although it is incorporated into Grace's. On the days that I blog and publish about our visits together, I also match that blog with one of my own that I do not publish.
Pastor Jill asked me if she could come to Boston and meet with me, regarding my faith. After a lot of hesitation and some speculation, I agree to this visit. We decided on this past weekend, to accommodate her schedule as well as my own. I was nervous and antsy the Friday evening before our meeting. I did not sleep well, tossing and turning, nervous as to what she could possibly find so interesting about me and my blog site that she would fly here from Florida. It seems there are more and more people who do not know me on any level that are trying to wedge in next to me. A poor night of sleep and a confused mind Saturday morning, anticipating a visit from a Pastor from 22 hours south of me, had me edgy. This was the perfect recipe for me to lash out at my dad, more out of my own frustration with my life, than anything he could of possibly upset me about.
As most of you know, my dad is Jake and he may not of planted the seed to grow me, but he has since provided the water and love and care and nurturing to get me where I am today. He IS my dad, and I would argue with the highest being possible if that were ever to be challenged. Every couple of months I confront him with my pent up angry attitude that really has very little to do with how I feel about him, and more of how I feel about myself. Like this Saturday morning, he takes it in stride. He throws a few comments my way to get me fired up and then allows me to lash out on him about all the things I can think of. Just when I think I've lashed out all I can, he throws out yet another comment to get me boiling. He never insults me, he never complains about what he finds himself doing to keep me going, he never makes me feel any worse in our yelling contest than I did walking into it. He absorbs all my insults, all my whining and all my anger. When I am done throwing my tantrum, he punches me in the arm, hugs me, tells me he loves me, and asks if I am done being a Nancy for the day. I hug him back, tell him a love him, and thank him for the life he has given me. We go about our day as if nothing had taken place. I am in a better frame of mind and he has once again, proven, you don't have to donate the DNA to be a dad.
I had an hour and half before I was going to need to be at Logan airport to pick up Pastor Jill. I decided to go skate, and burn up some unwanted energy that was sure to leave me in a more calm, relaxed, state of mind. I arrive early at the airport and anxiously anticipate the arrival of Pastor Jill. Upon our introduction to each other, I feel much better about this woman who has been persistent in coming to meet someone she does not know anymore about than what she has read about him, written in his very own words. A three hour flight and a 30 minute drive later and we were walking into my house. I knew my dad would be waiting there, to make sure all had gone well with the meeting between Pastor Jill and myself. The three of us visited briefly before my dad went about his house chores and Pastor Jill and I sat down at our dining room table.
She had her overnight bag and her brief case, which seemed more like a file cabinet to me, with its thickness and depth. As we sat and visited, she would pull more and more books from her brief case, which seemed to be bottomless. Between my books and journals, and her books and journals, we covered the table almost to completion, leaving room for her coffee and my water bottle. Minutes turned into hours as we compared our religious beliefs and the faith we devoted to the same God. She wanted to visit about my blogs with Grace, and a few others she has read that I had written. She was amazed at the four dozen plus journals I have written in dating back to the very first day I arrived in Boston. All hand written in the old fashion way. She comments about the rarity of that these days with all the technology available that would certainly give me more time in my life for other adventures. I hand her my journal that one day will turn into the story of the journey of Grace's life after she has passed. She is surprised there are no words hand written on the pages, but several papers stuffed into it that contain written notes I have gathered from my visits with Grace. I explain to her that Grace and I have agreed, while she still breaths the air on earth, I will focus on her life with us, and once she exhales her final breath with us, I will focus on her life after she is gone.
Talking about Grace has gotten to Pastor Jill. She asks if she might be able to meet Grace, and visit with her. I expected this, and I had prepared my answer ahead of time. No, I would tell her. I am protective of Grace and her family and their wishes are to retain their privacy outside those directly involved with little Grace's life and medical journey. It is the same response I have given anyone that asks, that is not on the list of people Grace would like to meet. But I could not speak that response to Pastor Jill. Instead I respond that I will call Graces parents and see if Grace would like a visitor today. I excuse myself to make the call, and while I do this Pastor Jill takes a break from the table and ventures into the living area of our home. When I return to find her sitting down visiting with my dad, I let her know that Grace would love to meet her today. I sit with them briefly before we leave. The remainder of their conversation is regarding how different religions plays in the roles of all four of us that live under the same roof. We accept that in each other and we respect each others views in our beliefs. She finds this interesting, I could see it before she even commented on that. My dad tells her to think of our house as a big fraternity, where its members have just as much in common, as they do not.
As we make the drive to Grace's house, Pastor Jill is writing in her notebook. She does a lot of writing, and she makes a lot of observations. I ask her if she is obtaining the information from her visit here that she was expecting. She tells me it is much more enlightening than she expected it to be. I ask her what she is hoping to walk away with once she heads back to Orlando. She explains to me that she hopes to have a better understanding on how a teenage boy is so driven in life by a faith he was never taught. How faith has carried him through more difficult times in his young life than seems possible given the different paths he could have taken, that would clearly be much easier to fall victim to, with using the tragedies in his life as an excuse. I tell her my theory on age playing a very important role in peoples life. I tell her that after her visit with Grace, she will understand what I mean by that. I tell her I believe the less you fear in life, the stronger your faith carries you.
When we arrive at Grace's house, she is sitting in their family room. We both smile big at each other and she come over and gives me a big tight baby bear hug. She is wearing her little pink sweatsuit with big fuzzy pink slippers and a pink knit hat. Sitting on the sofa where she had been sitting is a notebook and a pen. I introduce her and her parents to Pastor Jill and inform Pastor Jill that it looks like she is going to be interviewed today, which is normal for Grace to do. I am sure inside that notebook is a page with Pastor Jill written across the top, and at least five questions in it to conduct her interview. I tell Grace that Pastor Jill will want to take notes about their visit and when they are through, I will spend some time with her if she would like. We leave them to their meeting and exit the room to sit in the kitchen. Grace's parents would like to visit with me about some news regarding Grace and her medical things. It is about 40 minutes later when we see Grace standing at the door between the kitchen and the living area. She lets me know that their visit is done and would I like to go to her room and see a gift her neighbor brought to her. I do this, and it leaves Pastor Jill to visit with Grace's parents. Noticing Grace is looking tired, her mother lets everyone know that in a bit, Grace would need to lay down and rest.
Our visit is done and over with and I invite Pastor Jill to stop along the way home and eat supper. She accepts the invitation and comments on how maybe we can spend our supper time, with casual conversation that is light and breezy. I am all for that I tell her, looking forward to relaxing not only my mind but also my heart. It turns out to be a great conversation, as we learn more about each others lives then faith and tragedy. We talk about our hobbies and our commitments and our daily grind. I learn more about her family unit and what her kids are involved in. We talk about my misfit brothers and my best buddies Geo and Tommy. We talk about my cousins Kaylee and Kyle and how much I miss them and wished they lived closer. I am not selective with my words when I talk about my life. She notices this and points it out to me. By the end of our meal, we are full and ready to head back to my house. I let her know that there is sure to be more bodies in the house but they will respect our privacy and give us space.
Sure enough, when we walk in, Zander is sitting in front of the TV, messing around on his laptop, with a law book sitting next to him. I noticed my dads motorcycle was home, and felt the heat on it, telling me he had went for a bike ride, so he was done with his chores. I find him on his hands and knees in the play area he put together for the kids that call him Papa, sorting through the kids books we keep on hand. I tell Pastor Jill, he is thinking of expanding the library, so he is going through the books so he doesn't duplicate them. She goes over and makes note of the religious books that sit along the shelves with the child's books. Yes, I tell her, we share the stories of God with my nieces and nephews. We sit back down where all our books and journals are still laid out. It isn't long and we both comment on how quickly the time has passed each time we sit at this table. We both gather up our belongings, me taking mine to my room and her repacking hers in the brief case. Pastor Jill asks if we can visit briefly about Grace's journey so we sit out back on the deck, in the hopes that time does not move as quickly as it does inside.
We talk about Grace for about an hour, sharing our thoughts on were her courage truly comes from. We both agree, that Grace's strength is a show for her parents. We comment on how great it is that her parents are honest with her about the length of what her life has become. I tell her about the visits, the joys and sorrows of them. I express to her my belief that I feel Grace has had contact with those already in heaven. I share slightly more with her about things regarding Grace that others will read one day in the book of her journey. I do this to help her understand more about my faith and my journey and my beliefs. We talk about the struggles it takes to write the weekly blogs and how exhausting they are because once I type them out, they become reality and there is no hiding what is bound to happen in the weeks to come.
I share with Pastor Jill how her parents told me today that they have halted any further treatments for Grace as per her request. How Grace may have one to two good weeks left, before the growth of the tumor will start to change her. How they will insert a breathing and feeding tube into her and hook her up to a morphine drip. How probably in less than a week they will admit her to the hospital, where all this will take place, again, as per Grace's wishes. She does not want to leave her parents in their house. She does not want those memories left hanging in the home they shared together for over eight years. They cannot predict what will happen, but they can prepare us. She may lose her eye sight, she may lose her speech. She will get to the point where the morphine will alter her thinking and what little she will communicate, if she can, will may make little or no sense to us at.
This is the final conversation I will share with Pastor Jill about Grace. I invite her to stay with us for the night, and wake up in the morning and share a meal with me and the rest of the misfits. She accepts this, and once everyone is settle into new sleeping arrangements and the house is quiet I find myself sleepless and thinking about things I wish I could change, but know I cannot. I know what I must do though, and that is to visit Grace daily, and grind out her story so when she is no longer capable of telling it to me, she is not disappointed in an abrupt end. It is something I am not looking forward to, as each day now is sure to prove more difficult for her to get through, but I am looking forward to her smiles and the fun we will have, as she plays out the end of her courage and strength on earth, before she spreads it back down to us from heaven.
Grace and I have had many conversations about the strength and courage others see in her and myself. Often she tells me that much of her courage has been coming from others who find strength in her journey. I can tell you without a doubt that my strength and courage come from many sources in my life on a daily basis. I will remind everyone reading this, that this is not about my journey, although it is incorporated into Grace's. On the days that I blog and publish about our visits together, I also match that blog with one of my own that I do not publish.
Pastor Jill asked me if she could come to Boston and meet with me, regarding my faith. After a lot of hesitation and some speculation, I agree to this visit. We decided on this past weekend, to accommodate her schedule as well as my own. I was nervous and antsy the Friday evening before our meeting. I did not sleep well, tossing and turning, nervous as to what she could possibly find so interesting about me and my blog site that she would fly here from Florida. It seems there are more and more people who do not know me on any level that are trying to wedge in next to me. A poor night of sleep and a confused mind Saturday morning, anticipating a visit from a Pastor from 22 hours south of me, had me edgy. This was the perfect recipe for me to lash out at my dad, more out of my own frustration with my life, than anything he could of possibly upset me about.
As most of you know, my dad is Jake and he may not of planted the seed to grow me, but he has since provided the water and love and care and nurturing to get me where I am today. He IS my dad, and I would argue with the highest being possible if that were ever to be challenged. Every couple of months I confront him with my pent up angry attitude that really has very little to do with how I feel about him, and more of how I feel about myself. Like this Saturday morning, he takes it in stride. He throws a few comments my way to get me fired up and then allows me to lash out on him about all the things I can think of. Just when I think I've lashed out all I can, he throws out yet another comment to get me boiling. He never insults me, he never complains about what he finds himself doing to keep me going, he never makes me feel any worse in our yelling contest than I did walking into it. He absorbs all my insults, all my whining and all my anger. When I am done throwing my tantrum, he punches me in the arm, hugs me, tells me he loves me, and asks if I am done being a Nancy for the day. I hug him back, tell him a love him, and thank him for the life he has given me. We go about our day as if nothing had taken place. I am in a better frame of mind and he has once again, proven, you don't have to donate the DNA to be a dad.
I had an hour and half before I was going to need to be at Logan airport to pick up Pastor Jill. I decided to go skate, and burn up some unwanted energy that was sure to leave me in a more calm, relaxed, state of mind. I arrive early at the airport and anxiously anticipate the arrival of Pastor Jill. Upon our introduction to each other, I feel much better about this woman who has been persistent in coming to meet someone she does not know anymore about than what she has read about him, written in his very own words. A three hour flight and a 30 minute drive later and we were walking into my house. I knew my dad would be waiting there, to make sure all had gone well with the meeting between Pastor Jill and myself. The three of us visited briefly before my dad went about his house chores and Pastor Jill and I sat down at our dining room table.
She had her overnight bag and her brief case, which seemed more like a file cabinet to me, with its thickness and depth. As we sat and visited, she would pull more and more books from her brief case, which seemed to be bottomless. Between my books and journals, and her books and journals, we covered the table almost to completion, leaving room for her coffee and my water bottle. Minutes turned into hours as we compared our religious beliefs and the faith we devoted to the same God. She wanted to visit about my blogs with Grace, and a few others she has read that I had written. She was amazed at the four dozen plus journals I have written in dating back to the very first day I arrived in Boston. All hand written in the old fashion way. She comments about the rarity of that these days with all the technology available that would certainly give me more time in my life for other adventures. I hand her my journal that one day will turn into the story of the journey of Grace's life after she has passed. She is surprised there are no words hand written on the pages, but several papers stuffed into it that contain written notes I have gathered from my visits with Grace. I explain to her that Grace and I have agreed, while she still breaths the air on earth, I will focus on her life with us, and once she exhales her final breath with us, I will focus on her life after she is gone.
Talking about Grace has gotten to Pastor Jill. She asks if she might be able to meet Grace, and visit with her. I expected this, and I had prepared my answer ahead of time. No, I would tell her. I am protective of Grace and her family and their wishes are to retain their privacy outside those directly involved with little Grace's life and medical journey. It is the same response I have given anyone that asks, that is not on the list of people Grace would like to meet. But I could not speak that response to Pastor Jill. Instead I respond that I will call Graces parents and see if Grace would like a visitor today. I excuse myself to make the call, and while I do this Pastor Jill takes a break from the table and ventures into the living area of our home. When I return to find her sitting down visiting with my dad, I let her know that Grace would love to meet her today. I sit with them briefly before we leave. The remainder of their conversation is regarding how different religions plays in the roles of all four of us that live under the same roof. We accept that in each other and we respect each others views in our beliefs. She finds this interesting, I could see it before she even commented on that. My dad tells her to think of our house as a big fraternity, where its members have just as much in common, as they do not.
As we make the drive to Grace's house, Pastor Jill is writing in her notebook. She does a lot of writing, and she makes a lot of observations. I ask her if she is obtaining the information from her visit here that she was expecting. She tells me it is much more enlightening than she expected it to be. I ask her what she is hoping to walk away with once she heads back to Orlando. She explains to me that she hopes to have a better understanding on how a teenage boy is so driven in life by a faith he was never taught. How faith has carried him through more difficult times in his young life than seems possible given the different paths he could have taken, that would clearly be much easier to fall victim to, with using the tragedies in his life as an excuse. I tell her my theory on age playing a very important role in peoples life. I tell her that after her visit with Grace, she will understand what I mean by that. I tell her I believe the less you fear in life, the stronger your faith carries you.
When we arrive at Grace's house, she is sitting in their family room. We both smile big at each other and she come over and gives me a big tight baby bear hug. She is wearing her little pink sweatsuit with big fuzzy pink slippers and a pink knit hat. Sitting on the sofa where she had been sitting is a notebook and a pen. I introduce her and her parents to Pastor Jill and inform Pastor Jill that it looks like she is going to be interviewed today, which is normal for Grace to do. I am sure inside that notebook is a page with Pastor Jill written across the top, and at least five questions in it to conduct her interview. I tell Grace that Pastor Jill will want to take notes about their visit and when they are through, I will spend some time with her if she would like. We leave them to their meeting and exit the room to sit in the kitchen. Grace's parents would like to visit with me about some news regarding Grace and her medical things. It is about 40 minutes later when we see Grace standing at the door between the kitchen and the living area. She lets me know that their visit is done and would I like to go to her room and see a gift her neighbor brought to her. I do this, and it leaves Pastor Jill to visit with Grace's parents. Noticing Grace is looking tired, her mother lets everyone know that in a bit, Grace would need to lay down and rest.
Our visit is done and over with and I invite Pastor Jill to stop along the way home and eat supper. She accepts the invitation and comments on how maybe we can spend our supper time, with casual conversation that is light and breezy. I am all for that I tell her, looking forward to relaxing not only my mind but also my heart. It turns out to be a great conversation, as we learn more about each others lives then faith and tragedy. We talk about our hobbies and our commitments and our daily grind. I learn more about her family unit and what her kids are involved in. We talk about my misfit brothers and my best buddies Geo and Tommy. We talk about my cousins Kaylee and Kyle and how much I miss them and wished they lived closer. I am not selective with my words when I talk about my life. She notices this and points it out to me. By the end of our meal, we are full and ready to head back to my house. I let her know that there is sure to be more bodies in the house but they will respect our privacy and give us space.
Sure enough, when we walk in, Zander is sitting in front of the TV, messing around on his laptop, with a law book sitting next to him. I noticed my dads motorcycle was home, and felt the heat on it, telling me he had went for a bike ride, so he was done with his chores. I find him on his hands and knees in the play area he put together for the kids that call him Papa, sorting through the kids books we keep on hand. I tell Pastor Jill, he is thinking of expanding the library, so he is going through the books so he doesn't duplicate them. She goes over and makes note of the religious books that sit along the shelves with the child's books. Yes, I tell her, we share the stories of God with my nieces and nephews. We sit back down where all our books and journals are still laid out. It isn't long and we both comment on how quickly the time has passed each time we sit at this table. We both gather up our belongings, me taking mine to my room and her repacking hers in the brief case. Pastor Jill asks if we can visit briefly about Grace's journey so we sit out back on the deck, in the hopes that time does not move as quickly as it does inside.
We talk about Grace for about an hour, sharing our thoughts on were her courage truly comes from. We both agree, that Grace's strength is a show for her parents. We comment on how great it is that her parents are honest with her about the length of what her life has become. I tell her about the visits, the joys and sorrows of them. I express to her my belief that I feel Grace has had contact with those already in heaven. I share slightly more with her about things regarding Grace that others will read one day in the book of her journey. I do this to help her understand more about my faith and my journey and my beliefs. We talk about the struggles it takes to write the weekly blogs and how exhausting they are because once I type them out, they become reality and there is no hiding what is bound to happen in the weeks to come.
I share with Pastor Jill how her parents told me today that they have halted any further treatments for Grace as per her request. How Grace may have one to two good weeks left, before the growth of the tumor will start to change her. How they will insert a breathing and feeding tube into her and hook her up to a morphine drip. How probably in less than a week they will admit her to the hospital, where all this will take place, again, as per Grace's wishes. She does not want to leave her parents in their house. She does not want those memories left hanging in the home they shared together for over eight years. They cannot predict what will happen, but they can prepare us. She may lose her eye sight, she may lose her speech. She will get to the point where the morphine will alter her thinking and what little she will communicate, if she can, will may make little or no sense to us at.
This is the final conversation I will share with Pastor Jill about Grace. I invite her to stay with us for the night, and wake up in the morning and share a meal with me and the rest of the misfits. She accepts this, and once everyone is settle into new sleeping arrangements and the house is quiet I find myself sleepless and thinking about things I wish I could change, but know I cannot. I know what I must do though, and that is to visit Grace daily, and grind out her story so when she is no longer capable of telling it to me, she is not disappointed in an abrupt end. It is something I am not looking forward to, as each day now is sure to prove more difficult for her to get through, but I am looking forward to her smiles and the fun we will have, as she plays out the end of her courage and strength on earth, before she spreads it back down to us from heaven.
