becoming an orphan

My mother-in-law is quite literally on her death bed.

Strangely enough, I haven’t thought a lot about what it will be like without her. For the last 18 months, I’ve been honing in on what to do for her in the here and now, and simply trying to enjoy every meal, every laugh, every joke she tells, every glimpse of orneriness she exhibits, every praise to the Lord she expresses …

Until this morning, when I woke up with the stark realization that we were facing the end. My mind wandered to what the next Christmas, Thanksgiving, and April 3rd (her birthday) will be like.

For the first time, I understood that when I turn 39 next week, there will be no one to ask me, “Whatchya’ want for your birthday, cutie?” followed by a card with money in it because she couldn’t decide what to get me.

I will never again hear her sing “You are my son, Shaun, my only son, Shaun. You make me happy when skies are gray …” to my husband.

She will never watch Andrew pitch another ball …

I don’t know how much longer she will live, but in so many ways, we’ve already lost her. Just like I lost my Grandma many months before she died. She was there physically. But she was somewhere else. Someone else.

So today, my husband and I begin the process of becoming orphans. A journey where we will no longer have parents, but where we are the parents. Where the younger generation begins looking to us for the same wisdom and knowledge we have sought from our parents.

And while I know that it is “better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all,” I also know that that it hurts like a cactus prick in the bottom of my foot.

It stings.

And only time will heal it.

I love you, Jeanine Coats. And I miss you already.

blessed be the name of the Lord

I don't write much about the trials of my life. I'm not trying to hide the fact that I have trials, so that my life seems squeaky clean here on Prairie Tales. But it seems as though it's nearly impossible to share a lot without breaking the confidence of someone I love. So I remain quiet out of respect for them.

The fact is, for the last decade, we've been hit hard with major issues (plural - definitely plural!). Everywhere from health issues to family problems ... and beyond.

Through all of it, my faith has wavered ... from strong to weak, to nearly extinct, and back to vibrant (repeat said cycle at least six times). I haven't been consistent in remaining strong. And yet, no matter how weak I get, no matter how doubtful I get that He is still there, the Lord remains faithful.

He never left. I left. 

He never moved away from me. I moved away from Him, because I doubted His love for me. In fact, I doubted His very existence.

Well ... no more. 

Never again do I want to be an unfaithful doubter. I want my faith to stabilize. No more flip-flopping, tossing to and fro, like a ship without a sail. I don't want to cry "He loves me!" one day, and the next day "He loves me not!" - like some foolish schoolgirl. I want to be anchored to Him, remaining confident of my Savior's love, faithfulness, and goodness.

And so ... in looking back on the truly horrible week I just experienced, I want to publicly confess that Jesus is still Lord ...

 ... still loves me ...

 ... and still sits on His throne above.

And "When the darkness closes in, still I will say ... 'Blessed be the name of the Lord.'"

Though I am prone to wander, I still choose to say "Blessed be the name of the Lord."

I hope you can too.

Thankful for What Was

I woke up on Thanksgiving morning, and a very unexpected homesickness wafted over me. I missed my Grandma. I missed my Mom, and my brothers. I missed the awesome family get together's that always took place at Grandma Brown's. A place where I never once felt unwelcome, unfed, unloved. Memories of her apple pie, and ability to make a home flooded my mind, and I was well on my way to a miserable day if I let myself continue.

Then I received a short email from Jeanine. In it, she stated, "Make a choice for a good day!"

I determined to do just that, and as you can see ... it turned out quite well!! Here are a few of my favorite moments, kids, and loved ones in the world.

So, although I was homesick for what was, I also became aware of the tremendous blessings that I have here and now, close to me. There's nothing better than piling into one house, all of us together, kids swarming about, everyone laughing, feasting, and just being together.

More than that, I decided that it was not such a bad thing to be missing what was. Many people never experience the joy and love and togetherness of a family like I had growing up. Is it not better to have had it at one time, even though it is now gone?

I think so.

And so, this Thanksgiving, I am thankful for what was ... and what is. How God has enriched my life with close family, extended family, and the love that permeates my heart each time we are priveledged to once again be together!

I hope all y'all had a wonderful time of thanks with your loved ones, whether in years past, or yesterday.

~Brenda

I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

From Alfred Lord Tennyson's poem In Memoriam:27, 1850:

We Trust In The Name Of The Lord Our God

As you can tell by the slowing down of posts, we are spending a lot of time with Jeanine (Shaun's mom), Jim (Shaun's dad), and Shaun's sister's before Jeanine's surgery. It is scheduled for tomorrow, early afternoon.

We've spent the last four days hugging each other, laughing, waxing nostalgic, eating lots of food, and crying in our soup together - all good, necessary, and therapeutic.

While we are not one bit prepared to lose Jeanine, we are all keenly aware that it could happen tomorrow. Or in a few months, a year ... we simply don't know what the future holds. So we are thankful for a Savior who loves us, knows what is best for all involved, and will only take her home to Him if it is the best for everyone involved.

Our hearts cry "Not yet, Lord! We need more time!" But ultimately, we do not trust in doctors. Or medicine. We trust in the name of the Lord our God. And whatever happens, we know that God is in control. We trust Him, we trust Him ...

We trust Him.

And you know what else?

If we part ways with Jeanine in the near future, our ultimate consolation is that we will see her again. This is the hope that Christ gives us. Not only the hope of eternal life through His death on the cross to pay for our sins, but the hope of seeing our loved ones again.

And to that, I say ...

Thank you, Jesus.

~Brenda, the blessed little housewife on the Prairie (because I love my MIL, and she loves ME!)

Rejoice With Them That Rejoice

For me, it's time to rejoice. I know, I know. I said it was time to weep.

But who says we can't do both?

I weep that Grandma is gone, and it may be quite some time before I see her again. I rejoice that I do get to see her again.

I weep that I can no longer see her and her magnificent abode. I rejoice that I was priveledged to know and love her for nearly 37 years, and felt so at home in her abode.

I weep that she had to suffer for so long. I rejoice that she no longer suffers or even remembers her suffering.

I weep that a large part of my childhood is gone. I rejoice that God gave me a childhood that I can call awesome, and Grandma Brown to share it with.

I miss you, Gma B, and rejoice over the time we were blessed to have you.

All of you.

Your generosity, your courage, your stubornness and fight to live, the words you never could pronounce right, and even the way you worried excessively.

Thank you for making my world a better place.

~Brenda
Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep. ~Romans 12:15

Weep With Those Who Weep

Margie M. Brown

February 15, 1927 - April 23, 2009

I know weeping is not a popular thing to do. Especially in our culture. Death is largely sanitized and not dealt with properly, because we live in a world that values fun above all else.


Trust me. I'm all about fun. Nobody can laugh and party better than me ... and Grandma. She could party until two in the morning well into my adult years.


But when it's time to weep, it's time to weep. So I invite you to come along with me, and remember my Grandma, and weep with me if you feel so led.


I promise you'll be glad you did.


Grandma's passing is by far the largest loss I have experienced, and I'm having trouble even expressing what I feel. So please bear with me while I work through my emotions and simply reminisce about one of the most influencial people in my life.


Oh ... and grab the the coffee, m&m's, and tissues, will ya'?


---------------------------------------------------------------

Grandma was a great many things, and this list could go on for quite some time. But for now, I'll just name a few that are heavy on my mind and heart:

Grandma was available. No matter when you showed up at her house, she always had time. And if she was busy, she would simply involve you in whatever it was she was trying to accomplish, whether it be canning, gardening, or waxing nostalgic (my personal favorite). I don't know of a better way to make someone feel loved than to simply be there for them.

Grandma was giving. If you were truly in need, Grandma would do whatever she could to help you. Especially if you were hungry. In fact, I know she secretly hoped you would be hungry when you came to visit. She loved to feed people. Heck, no need to be hungry. Have something to eat anyway! Just for the fun of it. Especially if she baked a pie. And holy cow, could she ever make a pie. Especially apple pie. My mouth waters just thinking about it.

Grandma was hot-headed and ornery. She had flaming red hair when she was young, and the temperament to go along with it. Wouldn't you if you were the oldest of nine children?

I didn't inherit the flaming red hair, but I did inherit orneriness. Okay ... maybe I'm a little hot-headed too. But only if you don't do what I say.

Grandma was competitive. What else would motivate an old lady to stay up until all hours of the night playing rummy and the infamous "Take Two" game, invented by none other than Grandma herself? If nobody was there to play with her, she'd break out the cards and play solitaire. And why not? A gal could cheat on solitaire and never get in trouble for it. Wink, wink.

Grandma was stubborn. Her and Grandpa puchased a piece of property when I was six. Two acres of nothing but adobe dirt. But when they were finished with it, it looked and felt like paradise. Rose bushes, lush green grass, and weeping willow trees abounded, complete with a huge garden, a tree house, and a hill to go sledding on at Christmas time.

Why do I bring up yard work under the subject of stubbornness? Because if you tried to help her with the upkeep, you had better do what she says, how she said it, and when she said it. No budging. No talking her in to keeping a rose bush she was done with. No setting the sprinklers a different angle than she desired. She was the boss, she was ok with that, and you had better be too. And not just where yard work was concened.

And last ... for now ...

Grandma was the Queen Bee. Not just of my family, but of her family of nine siblings. On April 23rd, many people lost a grandma, a sister, a mother, an aunt ... and a friend.
A matriarch.
I lost the one who has been the most stable, enjoyable person I've ever known. And my heart literally hurts. But you know what? Time and Jesus will heal that hurt.
Death has been overcome because of Jesus, and I know one day, Grandma and I will once again laugh and reminisce to our heart's content.
And I'm positive biscuits and gravy, apple pie, and peanut butter balls will be close by when that time comes.
~Brenda

No New News

Well, no new news about Ashlee anyway. Other than she is scheduled for lots of tests in about a week. Hopefully, those tests will be very revealing, and we can get some sort of treatment plan going.

In the meantime, it'll be scarce posting around here (unless Shaun Santa brings me a laptop real quick).

I got word that my Grandma died yesterday, the 23rd, and I'm heading out today to go be with family - and attend the funeral of course. This means that I am officially "Grandparentless."

And I feel sad. Really sad.

Not for Grandma, because she is up there in Heaven with Jesus and her suffering has finally ended. But for me ... I'm sad, darn it!

The only thing that makes a death like this remotely bearable is that fact that I will see Grandma again.

God has called her name ... ♫and she did rise ... no more sorrow, no more pain.♫

Now I'm just waiting for my turn (said like a foot stompin' two year old).

So wait up, Grandma!! I'm coming too! Until then, remind Grandpa I love him and tell him I can't wait to sit on the couch and hold hands again. I love you both, and can't wait to see the both of you together again.

As it should be...

~Brenda

Click here to read a tribute of sorts that I wrote a couple years ago about my Grandparents. You'll have to scroll down to "Christmas Traditions" to see the post.