in the days of "old lefty"

"In the days of "old lefty", my smashed to smithereens broken left arm, I had to get used to the fact that for one, my arm would never be the same again and for yet another, I'd be wearing a long arm exoskeleton for the better part of the next  7 months.  A split second decision to jump the front curb near my home at the end of my daily bicycle ride would prove to be disastrous for me as well as change my life forever.  I remember so well the second to the last day of confinement for me before the cast would finally be removed.  I was at school, working on paperwork on a late winter Sunday afternoon.  It hit me as I was unlocking the car door to go home and it hit me hard. My arm was itching, big time, and anyone who has ever sported any type of cast for any length of time will understand perfectly well what I am talking about.  The more I thought about it, the more it itched and after what seemed to be a gazillion days of having to wear it, I just wanted that cast off right THEN and right THERE.  The mile drive back to my home proved to be pretty anxious for me and seriously, I mean really seriously I was beginning to hatch a plan to find something at home to take it off all on my own. I didn't know what I'd tell my good doctor when I saw him, left arm bared, in his office on Tuesday but it didn't matter.  That thing was coming off that day, even if I had to do it myself."

 Luckily for all concerned, especially me, I didn't remove the cast on my own that day.  By the time I got close to home, I decided to call my good friend Ron and explain how things were going and by the way, how things were going was not good.  I told him I was coming by his house and to have his black magic marker ready because I had something I needed for him to do.  I wanted a visual reminder on that baby blue, nearly dang up to my shoulder cast that would help me  to hang on until Dr. Chan could properly and safely remove it in his Wichita office in less than 48 hours.  Ron wrote the message above for me that afternoon and somehow or another I found peace in it, allowing me to calm down and be assured that the time of healing was nearly through.  The message on the cast was one that I later on had tattooed on my left leg, a message of hope to a crazy Kansas cyclist who unfortunately that ill-fated day had been riding more like a carefree 9-year old than the responsible 55-year old woman that I should have been.  The words from the Good Book can be found in the 15th Chapter of John, reading from the 13th verse, the "no greater love hath a man than this" one.  "8-10-11" was the day that I received a bone section from a cadaver's body to restore my wrist to some sense of semi-normalcy. " Mo. 2  Ks.", helps me to remember that an unknown Missouri man, ten years younger than myself,  donated all of his usable body parts upon his death so that many people (me included) could have their lives restored.  "Eleanor" represents the gift, the life changing present that I received that morning in the operating room of the Surgery Center of Kansas. 

"Old lefty's" scars are still there although over time they have begun to fade a bit.  My left hand looks pretty much different than my right but it's been so long now that I hardly think about it any longer.  One of the first things that I did when I met "the 18" back in August here at Olathe Elementary was to tell them what had happened to me.  One of them noticed the scar running along the inside of my arm and after he asked about it, I just figured it was as good a time as any to tell them of my accident.  You know sometimes, no let me say that a different way, it's ALWAYS just good to be honest with kids.  They figure it out any way so why not let it be from you?  We had a great talk about it, turning it into a lesson on riding your bike safely and they really haven't even said that much about it since that day early on in the school year.  Except for the fact that everything from my left shoulder to the tips of my fingers is different than before, I can do whatever I want or need to.  And one of those things that I want or need to is getting ready to happen very soon.

There's a sweet little baby named Catherine Lois and she's waiting for me to come and see her.  I'm her grandmother from far, far away and we will  meet one another for the first time by early in the wee hours of morning tomorrow.  I get to spend five days with her and hold her in my arms.  I already love her very much and I hope that she will love me too.  I don't know what it is yet that grandmothers do but I will try my best to figure it out.  I won't be able to see her very much as she grows up but I will always keep her close to me in my heart, a place where the miles cannot separate us.  I have waited a long time for a grandchild and I'm so grateful to be the recipient of the blessing of one.

All of my things are nearly packed and I'm travelling as "light" as I can.  As soon as school is out today, I'll be heading for the airport and the Great Northwest.  Friends, you have prayed me over the mountains many times in my journey back and forth to Kansas.  If you would be so inclined, would you pray me safely through the air?   The flight is nearly 3 hours plus a ferry ride across at the end.  I'm not afraid of anything and if I should become anxious and fearful, I'll remember the reason why I'm going in the first place.  All will be well, I'm sure! 

I think I've said it before in a blog post somewhere along the line, but for some reason I feel compelled to say it as I close this one today.  Friends and family, I love you all.  I am so grateful for your presence in my life.  Thank you for all you have done for me, anything.  The least of things and the greatest of things.  I'm beholden to all of you and perhaps some day I shall be able to do for you what so many of you have done for me.  If I never got the chance to say so again, and I WILL get the chance just for the "record", then I will have said it this day. 

This is a great day to be alive in, a great day to meet a granddaughter on, and come very soon that's exactly what I am going to be doing.  Take care everyone out there and be well and at peace with life.  It's really a good one after all, isn't it?

 In retrospect, I am very glad that I let the expert take off that long arm cast that day.  Things worked out a whole lot better for me that way. 

There surely seemed to be a whole lot of arm-breaking going on that year.  We all survived :)

lessons learned AGAIN :)

Good morning friends and family from a place far away.  It's the early, early morning hours here along the Western Slopes.  Last night the wind blew and blew and blew with yet another storm passing through.  The calendar may reflect that the season of Spring has arrived but don't bother telling that to the high country in these parts.  Snow and plenty of it was forecast to fall with this current storm and anything above 9,000 feet is expected to  receive a good size blanket of the "white stuff".  Mike says, "Welcome to Spring in the mountains."

The time is soon to arrive that I will be able to see my dear loved ones living so very far away and I'll get the chance for the first time to see little Catherine Lois.  My flight leaves Montrose in the early evening hours tomorrow and I wish I could say that everything is packed and ready to go but that is surely not the case.  This time out I plan to travel lightly, packing in only what is necessary to get by for the next 5 days.  I'll check my bag through to Seattle and just have a small backpack with me on the plane.  After my "near death" experience (LOL ok, it really wasn't THAT bad) with taking an escalator head first in the Detroit airport last year, I really will be glad to not have all that much to carry with me.  I seem to like to learn life's lessons the really hard way but the good news is that once I learn a lesson, I do tend to remember it. 

Sometimes I go back and take a look at blog posts from the past three years. As  I was remembering what I was doing just about a year ago today, I found the post I made from the faraway city of Binghamton, New York.  It was my first experience with the need to travel lightly and I had to smile as I remembered my decision to leave a few of my things behind in order to get myself back home to Kansas with some pretty cracked up ribs.  I'm reprinting it below if you would so care to read.  I promise to be more careful this time and make sure that the adventures I have don't involve moving flights of stair steps that are heavily laden with people.  Have a great day everyone out there and be sure to enjoy the wonderful life that we have all been the recipients of.  I give thanks today for all of the blessings I've been given, the least and the greatest.  Your friendship is among the greatest of these things.  I mean that, most sincerely.  Love you guys, one and all.

Remembering a nice warm Fourth of July in 2013 as I got the chance to visit the traveling wall honoring the fallen of the Vietnam War.  I'm standing next to the name of a young man from my hometown of Haven, Kansas who gave his life in 1967.

~Upon lightening my load~ from March 26th, 2013

Greetings and salutations from the strangest of places for me to write a blog post from...the airport waiting area at Binghamton, New York.  I've delivered Ursela to the bus station downtown, returned the rental car here at the airport, reported in and checked a bag to go to Kansas City, went through security without a problem and now am just sitting here and waiting to go.  My flight doesn't leave until 2:30 but I decided that it would be my best option to just get here and wait so I'd have time to get things taken care of.  So, here I sit.

I have to admit that I've wondered a thousand times why the events of Saturday in Detroit took place.  I mean for crying out loud, how much of a freak accident was that anyway?  For me to get a suitcase caught up in an escalator step and then for that whole thing to throw me completely off balance and cause me to tumble the better part of 2/3 of the way down just doesn't happen every day.  But as "Miller Luck", a well-known second cousin twice removed to "Murphy's Law", would have it....it did.  And as soon as my broken rib stops hurting I think I'll have a good laugh over it, but right now it doesn't seem very hilarious.  

This morning as I was packing up my things in my suitcase, I made the decision to leave a pile of clothing behind.  The extra weight that I saved by doing so made it much easier for me to pull along my suitcase.  I'd been thinking about it all day yesterday and realized that since I would be on my own today, I needed to do what I could to make the load lighter.  It seemed to work, thankfully. 

 But you know here's what I learned more than anything else by doing that "lightening of the load" thing...It helped me physically, that's for sure but it also helped me "mentally" as well.  Ever since Saturday mid-morning, my aches and pains from being injured had pretty much taken over.  My attitude was half ways "sucky" at best and life seemed about as dismal and depressing as it could get.  This morning when I woke up and had the idea to get rid of anything that I could live without, my outlook changed for the better.  It was like I had finally figured out a way to help my situation, to take charge of it once more.  And for whatever that is worth, it helps me to feel better.  Shoot, I didn't need those clothes anyway and for me it was much more important to be able to carry a lighter burden and get home safely to Kansas this evening.  Material stuff comes and goes and I long ago gave up the idea that possessions were the most important thing in this life.  I know way better than that now and for that, I give thanks.

For the many prayers and good wishes on our behalf, our heart-felt thanks friends.  It may take a while for things to heal up but I'm pretty sure that sooner or later they will.  This has been a journey to remember and without a doubt, things could have been so much worse.  We give thanks in the least of things for every blessing, every good thing that is given to us in this life.  My next goal is to get from Washington D.C. to Kansas City, Mo.  When that feat is accomplished, I will breathe a lot easier!  Have a great day everyone out there :)

May we ALL have someone who means this much to us.  My blessing, my someone lives in Montrose, Colorado.  Who would have thought that two kids from the "land of long ago, and far, far away" would have ever found one another in the years down the road?

 

 

upon calling "collect"

I dreamt of my mom last night.

In my dream she was happy, healthy and much younger than she was when she passed away in 2007.  She was at school, standing there amongst the kids and I, having the time of her life. Clad in her signature "Sears Zip and Dash Dress" and brown SAS shoes, she was moving from desk to desk as she listened to my students.  Crazy thing was that Mom didn't say a word in my dream. I never heard her sweet  voice, not even once.  She smiled, big time, and was doing the thing that she loved to do best when it came to any classroom of students that I had.  Mom had baked chocolate cupcakes and decorated them with brightly colored candies sprinkled on the top.  The kids were biting into them as soon as they said their "thank you Lois" to her and sadly, I woke up just as soon as the last one was given out to them.  I had no chance to talk to her and try as I might to return to sleep and begin the dream once again, well that just didn't happen.

Weird feeling to dream about those we love who have gone on before us.

I've seen my mother before in dreams, actually several times in the seven years that she has now been gone from this earth.  On some occasions it was a bit scary to me and I awoke with a "start" because I wasn't sure if it had been real or not.  But as time passed on, just as she had, it became a little easier to realize that she was gone.  Sometimes my mom will say something to me as we visit together in those "nighttime images", mostly small talk between a daughter and mother.  I can recall a few of the things she has said to me like, "It's time for me to go now" and "Don't stop trying".  Not even sure where those phrases came from in my dream but I do remember them and I guess perhaps they were uttered by her to give me comfort and peace in whatever point in life I was at.  People have been known to analyze dreams and try to figure out the hidden messages in them.  I never have figured them out and not sure, really, that I want to.  Surely some things are better left to the mysterious.

On top of my dresser is a photo of my mom as a little baby, cute and smiling.

I'm going to see my new baby granddaughter for the first time in just a few short days and when I go, that photo will be tucked away into my suitcase.  I want little Catherine Lois to have that picture and when she is older her parents can tell her all about the woman she shares her name with.  My mother and father would have loved to know her and as she grows up I hope she can learn more about them.  The distance in miles between my granddaughter and I will be many but she already has been tucked deep into my heart and that's where I will always carry her.  My mother is in there too and even though it's kinda crowded right now, everyone just skooshes over and makes plenty of room for others. Growing up in a family of seven kids, it reminds me a little bit like being at the "Scott table" for suppertime, you know?

The journey of life is kind of interesting.

When I was a kid growing up at home, mom and dad still alive and well, I could have never imagined the roads that I would go down in the years ahead of me.  Talk about your hills and valleys and even add in several nice mountaintops, I think in 58 years I've seen them aplenty.  The bumps in the road, the detours, the U-turns, and blessings aplenty have taught me many lessons about myself.  I have regrets that I didn't listen more to what my mother told me about life and that many times I found myself too preoccupied with living my own life to listen to what she had to say to me.  The things I do remember that she told me (and there are MANY) I'm writing down for little Catherine and even though I may not be there always to tell her in person, at least when she is older she'll be able to read for herself.  I like the idea of doing that.

The new day is dawning here along the Western Slopes.

If my mom were sitting beside me this morning, she would tell me to get out of my pajamas and get myself ready for school.  It's 5:15 in the A.M. here and she would admonish me to get going early so that I could drive safely.  Funny, if you could see me now then you would realize that I'm smiling because I'm recalling an "old trick" that we used to do back in the olden days of pre-cellphones.  When we kids were traveling back and forth between home and anywhere a distance away, Mom would have us always call back in the form of a "collect call" for someone who we knew would not be there. (and right now I am imagining a lot of young kids under the age of 40 who might be reading this saying, "WHAT in the heck does THAT mean?")  It was our signal that all was well and that we had encountered no trouble along the way. I hadn't thought of that in years and why all of a sudden it came to the surface of my brain, I have no idea.  So to my mom in Heaven, consider this blog post a "collect" call.  I am alive and well, living here along the Western Slopes.  I'm still your little baby girl and I love you very much. 

Once even my mom was a little baby too :)

~upon getting lost but not really~

 

 

One thing I learned on my trip back home to Kansas last week was just how easy it is in the early morning hours to become lost and take the proverbial "wrong turn" in life on the road.  This journey back and forth between the plains of Kansas and the Rocky Mountains of Colorado was actually my 11th one since January of 2013.  I've driven in all kinds of conditions between here and there, shoot even in a blizzard just a couple of months back, and never once have I taken a wrong turn as I went along. 

This recent trip though was different when I inadvertently took the wrong way at the stoplight in downtown Lamar, Colorado.  After 26 miles of going south instead of east, I finally realized something was wrong when I saw the early morning sky at dawn begin to glow to my left instead of smack dab in front of me.  Thankfully I had the good sense to finally pull over, plug my destination into my GPS and realize what I had done.  It was strange to have no sense of panic like I would normally have had.  I made a U-turn (legal of course because that's what the navigation system tells us) there on the highway and set my sights a different way, the right way. 

I had wanted so badly, even asked God in prayer, to see the state line of Kansas by the time the sun arose that day.  It appeared that wouldn't happen now but at least I'd be there sooner or later.  After what seemed like hours (really only about 45 minutes) of back tracking, I realized that I was finally close to getting back on the right route.  Just when I least expected to, I saw the sign that said "Leaving Colorado" and surprisingly just around the bend in an entry point to the state of Kansas that I'd never seen before I came across the welcome sign shown in the photo above.  As I pulled my car over to stop for a moment to rest and "regroup" I noticed along the eastern horizon that the golden orb that I'd been looking for since leaving my overnight stay in LaJunta was smack dab in front of me.

 With tears in my eyes, no kidding, I got out of the car and took the picture.  Of all the photos that I've taken in my life, perhaps this one will be the image that I will remember most fondly.  It was like a promise to me, one from a God that watches over me and anyone else on the road, that we are not the ones in charge anyway.  He knew exactly where I was all the while and for whatever reason, surely unbeknownst to me, this past Thursday my entry point into my home state was not to be the normal one.  I rejoiced, I was glad to finally cross over no matter whether it was near Syracuse OR Johnson City, Kansas. 

Four hours later, I was back in Reno County.  Thank God.  I had a wonderful four day stay back in Hutch and saw so many good family and friends.  The time went so quickly as it always seems to, giving still new credence to the age old adage, "Time flies when you are having fun!"  It will be a couple of months before I return again but I stored up memories aplenty in my heart to remember this journey by.  My heart is full of love from just being there and no matter where I go, I still carry Kansas in my heart. 

From atop Monarch Pass at the Continental Divide, this time I finally realized fully how wonderful it is to either go east or west and know that I have family and friends on BOTH sides of the mountain.  May you my friends be so blessed as well.  You know, I wasn't really lost at all, only taking a different route this time.  I am glad that I found my way back to Kansas and Colorado.  I know where I have come from.

My hometown of Haven, Kansas.  How wonderful it was to stand there at take this picture and to remember the place that I came from. 

The setting sun as seen from the vantage point of 43rd and Plum Streets on the last evening that I was there.  Talk about the Artist's palette being full of rich colors. 

 

 

Getting the chance to remember my Revolutionary War heritage at the Quaker Cemetery near Halstead, Kansas.  I remember standing next to the marker shown above when I was just a little kid and feeling so small.  Believe it or not, I really have grown a couple of inches taller since my childhood days and how nice it is to finally be able to see over the top of it.

 

 

 

 

upon being thankful for life

"Friends, I will remember you, think of you and pray for you.  When another day is through, I'll still be friends with you."  The words of the late John Denver~

Good morning dear friends and family from here along the Western Slopes in a place so very far away from where I have spent the last five days, my old home in Kansas.  It's the early morning hours and I am up and about, drinking cup of coffee number 2 of many I am afraid.  The journey yesterday traveling back home here to south western Colorado was a long one but I made it, safe and sound.  God provided passage for me in both the going and the coming back, with very little to worry about along the way.  611 miles one way is a far piece to travel but I learned early on last year that if I want or need to return to the Midwest then there is only one way to do it.  Old Monarch Mountain stood stately and tall, over 11,000 feet's worth and the roads around it were cleared and easy to traverse.  I paused for a moment yesterday and asked someone to take my photo at a couple of spots at the summit.  There was still snow and plenty of it by the way but the roads are generally speaking very well maintained.

Hey, not going to say it was a tropical paradise there on the top in fact, it was pretty dang chilly.  All around me, skiers were loading up their vehicles after having spent the weekend going up and down the slopes.  Everyone was happy and smiling, having their own choice of winter fun.  I've never tried skiing and I'm guessing I never will yet I admire the prowess of those who do so well at it.  I had given some thought to learning how to snowshoe this winter at the Black Canyon but never actually got around to it.  Perhaps next year I shall try so to do.

There was so much to be accomplished during this return to Kansas last week and I wish I could say I had finished it all, but that is not the case.  I took care of some business things that needed to be done, made lists of what is yet to finish, packed the car to point of "critical mass", and was thankful that at least I had done this much.  I saw family and friends, visited some of my favorite places back in Reno and Harvey Counties, drank at least four diet vanilla Dr. Peppers from Bogey's on 17th Street and made a lot of beautiful memories to store up in my heart.  I received many blessings while back there and I am thankful for each of them, for the least and the greatest of them.  More later on those.

It's time to get going now and ready myself for a day back at school.  I have been thinking of the "18" and missing them all the while.  I have had a wonderful sub who has covered my classes when the return to Kansas has been necessary this year and she took great care of them for me.  As a teacher, I have the utmost in respect for anyone who can step in and take care of another teacher's class.  I am beholden to her for so doing.  It will be interesting to hear their stories of all that has happened since I have been gone.  I'm sure that I will learn a lot today! 

I'm back as I promised I would be and ready to begin this Monday, the 24th day of March in the year 2014.  The way I figure it, God must have a special plan for me this day and I'm setting out to find out what that is.  Friends and family back in Kansas, thanks for the great time and the heart full of memories.  Dear ones here in Colorado, it's good to be back amongst you once again.  You know, I say it often but it is surely so true.  This is a great day to be alive in and if you think that this one is great, just wait until tomorrow because it will prove to be EVEN better.  Have a great day everyone out there and take care of yourselves.  Thanks for being my friends, always!



 

for the time to cross over the mountain

"The clouds began to swallow up the Black Canyon of the Gunnison last evening as the hours towards darkness approached.  Mike and I  could feel the temperature dropping as we went out to look at the garden area that our landlord had just finished plowing up for our use in the coming weeks and months.  It wasn't such a plunge in temperature that I needed a jacket but a person could definitely tell the beautiful day's warmth was gone.  All night long the wind howled with the kind of fury that makes you believe that it is pounding on your back door, demanding to come inside.  As I lay down in bed to get some sleep, I began to imagine what my trip over the mountain this week might perhaps be like."

I made my peace with Monarch Pass some time back.  It no longer scares me, well not  all that much at least.  It's there though, standing really tall at an elevation of 11,312 feet and about two hours away from our home here along the Western Slopes of the Colorado Rockies.  It's a giant obstacle to go up and over if I want to get to the other side and back home to Kansas.  The first time I came here, now well over a year ago, I crossed over it in the dark and the dead of winter.  I had no idea what I was doing, only praying that God would get me to the top and down again safely and in one proverbial "piece".  The naïve flatlander girl that I was back then tried not to even imagine what I was driving through.  Monarch Pass seemed like a monster that was waiting to gobble innocent drivers (just like me) up for supper.  It was not, yet I always treat it with respect. 

The weather looks as if it will hold all right for my journey back to Kansas this time and if I take out just as soon as I can possibly finish at school this Wednesday, I will make it over the mountain with plenty of daylight to spare.  By the time I get through the canyon lands between Salida and Canon City, things will begin to look better.  After Pueblo, the road becomes much easier to traverse, even boring to some I suppose.  Not to me though because I know what waits at the end.   The journey between Kansas and Colorado takes 11 good hours, 611 miles of driving.  I feel that I know the road very well by now but I pray to never be so complacent about that fact that I forget how quickly driving conditions can and do change here in this part of the world.

It will be a very busy four days back there for me as I continue to clean, organize, pack the last of my belongings and give away things I don't want.  That dear little house on 14th Street will soon have the chance for new occupants come summer time and I have to get things finished up there.  This trip back has created a new sense of urgency for me because I know there is limited time left to do what needs to be completed.  I hope that I can accomplish what awaits to be done and make it back over the mountain to return home to Montrose by Sunday evening. The good Lord willing, I shall.

Over the course of nearly twelve months now, I've slowly become acclimated to life at the higher elevation level.  I've found beauty in the surroundings here and as the days have gone by, I've learned to really appreciate the geographical variety that living in Colorado provides a person.  But the thing that I have become truly enamored with here in the south western part of the state is really not the topography but rather, the people.  The new friends and "family" that I have met since moving from Kansas are the reasons that returning here come next Sunday will be so much easier.  Oh yeah, and there is a man and his dog who also live around these parts who will be waiting for me too :)  I have to come back.  They need me.

Yesterday I was talking to a friend downtown and said that I always seemed to crowd a lot into such a short span of time when I go over there.  I had to stop and laugh as I realized that I was now talking like one of "them".  I will never forget how funny it sounded to me when people would find out I was from Kansas and then would ask me, "So you are from over there?"  I always thought to myself, "What?  Where do you think Kansas is?  In the North Atlantic or something?"  Now I finally have realized that when they say "over there", it truly is "over there", way across the Continental Divide and smack dab in the middle of the Midwest.  My heart feels happy as I type these words because I think it means to me that my homesickness is going to be "ok" now and I more than likely really will make it.

Besides the gazillion things that I have to do at my house while I'm there, I have a short "to do" list of other things I want to do while back in Reno County.  We're going to have a good garden this summer here and I'm hoping that the dear folks at Smith's Market down on South Main Street still have plenty of seed potatoes and onion plants for purchase.  I want to make a trip or two or three to the Etc. Shop on Main Street to see if there is anything that I just cannot live without.  I hope to stop into the offices of the Hutch News and visit with my friend Kathy who is a fine reporter there.   Can't forget my dear Oblio the Roundhead and hope that she hasn't forgotten me.  I hope to be able to see many of my family and friends that live in Reno County and other points beyond.  Time will fly by and I always end up wishing to do much more than could ever be accomplished. 

Well the clock on the wall is showing that it is definitely time to get a move on.  I've been up since 4 this morning and I cannot believe how fast the time has passed by me.  Somewhere nestled safely into their places of rest are the '18' and soon even they will awaken and get ready for their day at school.  Things will keep me occupied in the days that remain in this week so I plan to take a respite from writing in this blog until the weekend comes.  I say that because once I didn't write for several days and a friend emailed me wondering if I was sick or if something had happened to me :)  Rest assured, I am fine.  Tomorrow's journey will be a long one but I will make it, one way or another.  Please dear friends, pray me home, will you?  I thank you for your kindness, your genuine concern, and steadfast friendship.  Never could it be said enough.  I love you each and everyone.  May I some day be able to return to you all the goodness that you have indeed shown to me. 

Have a great Tuesday everyone!  This is the 18th day of March in the year 2014 and a great day to be able to be alive in.  That is one thing for sure.

The place where I turn "west" and just keep on going along Highway 50 from back home in south central Kansas.

Two kids from the "land of long ago and far, far away", now married nearly 10 months. 

I never have beaten Mike in a game of bowling but at least I've still never had to use the little dinosaur helper.

The blessing

I'm always grateful to see this sign on the way back home to Mike here in Montrose.  It's a hard 130 miles but I can do it!

upon the notion of retirement

I had every intention of doing it, you know?  But the truth of the matter is that I "failed" retirement, not once mind you, but twice in the past 4 years.  Back on October 26th in 2009 on the occasion of my 54th birthday, I took a personal day off from school back in Hutchinson.  With my retirement letter in hand, I visited the office of the school district there to talk  with my good friend, Rick Kraus, in the Human Resource Department about my plans to call it quits when  the school year had finished.  After 32 years of service to the educational system of the state of Kansas, I had completed my "85" points and figured that moment in time was as good as any to end my career.  I wanted to be sure to go "out on top", to not be the grouchy old teacher who should have quit long before they did.  The timing seemed just about perfect.  Yet it was not.

I really had no intention of actually quitting work, because economics for a then single woman definitely dictated that I'd probably be working well into my 80's.  My plan was actually to switch careers, to try something totally new to me.  Four years prior, in the spring of 2005, I became a CNA after my mom entered long-term nursing home care.  Initially I took the training to understand better the treatment that Mom was receiving.  As it turned out, the facility where I received the training from ended up asking me to come to work for them.  I remember how happy Mom was to hear that.  I'd be working in the very same place she lived at and for the next year, I worked weekends, school vacations, and summertime as a CNA/CMA.  It was a good job for me and provided extra income that came in pretty handy for someone who was learning for the first time in life to take care of herself all alone.  I grew to love the elderly and to develop an even deeper respect for them than I already had.  When I left the care center where Mom was living to work for another place in South Hutchinson, Mom understood but I know she missed my being there to help her get dressed in the morning or to tuck her into bed at night. 

I grew to love that type of work so much that I began to think that I would enjoy being a nurse and figured that even in my mid-50's that it would not be too late to go to nursing school.  I visited the good folks at HCC's nursing program and they explained to me all of the classes that I'd need to take in order just to even apply to the nursing school and take the mandatory pre-test that narrows down the applicant list.  So to work I began!  For two years, I labored online taking class after class.  Many of the requirements  were in science and math, two of the subjects that I rued the most back in the days when I was so much younger.  Those classes made my brain hurt, big time but I managed to stick with it.  I needed about 20 hours or so to be ready and I determined that I would not get anything less than an "A".    The lessons I learned while taking the nursing prerequisites began to enable me to do my CNA job so  much better as well.   I was just about sure that my dream of a second career in life as a registered nurse would come to fruition, yet it did not.  Shortly before the time would have come to make the decision to complete the last bit of the process, for personal reasons I decided against it.  You know, it was kind of weird.  I knew that I was making the right decision, no doubt about it.  Once I gave up the dream of becoming a nurse, I never looked back.  Of course as I began to learn later on, God had an entirely different plan for me in life.

Over the years since then, all four of them :), I have ended up returning to teaching with three more  years back in Hutchinson for USD 308 and soon will have finished up an additional one here in Colorado as a teacher at a fine school called Olathe Elementary.  I'm very thankful to have realized that there was still some "teacher" left in me and a career that I thought was probably over continued on.  On the last day of school here in late May, I can gratefully say that I've been a teacher for over 36 years.  At this point in time, only God knows what I'll be doing next year.  I'm not really even worrying too much about it because I've still got  9 weeks more to go in this school term in a classroom filled with bright, curious and much loved by me 10-year olds.  If I get too concerned about the future, I'm going to miss out on some of the best days of my 36th year.  I've learned over time that you can't get those days back.  I plan to enjoy them and I hope that my students do as well.

Actually I have to tell you, I have to say that I am not finished dreaming about what to do in the future.  There is one last thing that I'd like to become before I die.  The beautiful thing about being a teacher is that you have the summertime to pursue additional interests.  That is what enabled me to become a CNA in the first place.  I have a desire, at some point in time during the next 7 years or so, to become a hospice worker at least on a part-time basis and to assist in the care of those folks whose time to leave this earth is at hand.  I have told the story of "Howard" before in this blog but it was my experience with him several years back now that planted the seed of my dream to some day work with hospice. 

"It was my first evening of clinicals in the health care facility where my mom lived and my training had been given.  There we were, all fourteen of us who were now on the floor as CNA's, dressed in new scrubs with our clipboards in hand.  We were given the task of circulating amongst the residents' rooms and observing what we could, helping where we were able.  It was in the north wing that I found another CNA just like me, Debbie, who was standing alongside the bed of a man who looked very ill.  Howard (name changed) was in the last stages of life and I could tell by the look on Debbie's face that things weren't going well.  We both stood over his bed and watched him, the nurse coming in from time to time to see how things were going.  Our own instructor came in and stood with us as well.  After a while, both of us realized by all of the signs and symptoms that things weren't going to be much longer.  We looked around the room and found a Bible that belonged to him and we paged through it anxiously trying to find some passage of scripture that he might have underlined as his favorite.  There was none.  We looked at each other, desperate to do something, ANYTHING for this man.  His breathing began to slow down and in one last attempt to provide some type of care, Debbie and I decided to say the "Lord's Prayer" together and as we held hands with one another and with Howard, we began.  As God would have it, as is always the best of plans, as we gave up our "AMEN", Howard took his last breath.  It was the first time that I'd ever been present when someone passed.  You know, I always thought that it would be scary, frightening, unnerving, awful, the thing that nightmares are made of, the last thing a person would ever want to do in life,  and a thousand other adjectives to describe being a witness to life's end.  I learned that it was not.  Both Debbie and I were given the opportunity to learn how to provide post-mortem care that very first night of our mandatory two-week period of clinical observation.  My only thought was that Howard would have been totally alone in his exit from life because his children lived too far away and he no longer had any friends that were still living.  God had put two CNAs in just the right place and time that evening and the lesson I learned from that is this~The dying deserve to make their exit from this place with someone there to care for them, someone who will hold their hand and say a prayer for their departure, to leave with dignity and respect.

I remember the first time I skimmed through the text and workbook to prepare CNAs, that the very last chapter (the 36th one) was the part that dealt with the subject of death and dying.  I remember how I felt when I saw that one and I definitely remember thinking to myself, "Good thing this is the LAST chapter and not the first.  I think they do that on purpose.  Geesch!"  But as it has been in most of my life, some of the best learning that I ever have experienced was taught to me in the school of "real life".  It would be an 87-year old man in room 208 that evening who would teach me, even with his dying breath, that I could do this part of life's course and make it just fine.  In the years that passed, I was blessed to be at the bedside of many elderly people in their dying hours.  Post-mortem care was the final act of goodness and kindness that I could provide to any of them. Someone has to do that, so why not me?  When my own mother passed in 2007, I was with my family at her side as well.  We figured that she had brought all of us into this world and the very least we could do as her children was to be with her when she left it.  As a CNA you are taught to not get too close to the people you take care of.  (LOL, yeah like that's going to be the case)  I have shed my tears for so many of them and friends, when I pass from this earth I hope that someone will be there for me too.  Not sure what greater act of love a person could even hope to imagine.

I am only 58 and as I stop to think of it, I hope that I have many years ahead of me to find myself doing things that mean a lot to me.  I'm a teacher and I believe I was born so to be.  I've been thankful for 36 years and if there is a 37th for me somehow, I will gladly return to the classroom.  I've placed that thought in the hands of someone so much greater than I will ever be.  God knows the plan and I ask him to grant me patience as I wait for the knowledge of what to do.  I have not always been so willing to wait on Him to render His verdict.  Sorry to say, hate to have to admit to it, but lots of times I have figured that I didn't need help in the decision making process.   How foolish a thought that truly is.

I didn't become a nurse but that's ok too.  Was it time wasted? Nah, probably not.  All in accordance to the bigger plan in life, I am where I am today.  I couldn't imagine a year better spent than the one that I will soon be finishing up in the small place that I refer to as "my community", Olathe Elementary School.  My heart is full of priceless memories of the journey I have been on since mid-August of 2013.  I will treasure them forever and hold them close to me for the rest of my days here on earth.  May your memories be so wonderful my dear friends and family.  God's blessings to all of you this good Sunday morning.
 

To be a fourth grader!  Their first day of school and as I look at this photo it is so very apparent how they have grown and changed.  God blessed me.

The message from my dear young fourth-grade friend back at Lincoln Elementary, Ezequiel Martinez, which later became the decoration for the top of our wedding cake.  I gained yet another cheerleader for life that day......

I'll be back

You know, it's a long ways from this place here along the Western Slopes of the Rocky Mountains to my old home back in Kansas.  It's an even longer stretch from Montrose to Whidbey Island, Washington where my son and daughter-in-law live with little baby Catherine Lois.  In my heart, all of the beautiful family and friends that I have in both of those places and many points onward are kept safe and tucked in as close as I can manage them.  But the truth is, if I want to see them again, to sit down and have a visit over a cup of coffee or a diet vanilla Dr. Pepper at Bogey's, I have to physically return there.  In the next couple of weeks, I'm set to do quite a bit of travelling as the time has come to go back to Kansas and also fly to meet my first grandchild, a little girl who I cannot wait to hold for the very first time.  God willing and everything goes as planned, I so shall do.

I've made the trip over the mountains many times, having come out here 5 times before Mike and I got married last May 21st.   I've been back and forth to Kansas six times since then and I'd have to admit that there have been drives that seemed  more like a journey of 1,611 miles instead of the actual 611.  There are a few stretches along the way that are long and arduous, referring in particular to places like Arrowhead Canyon and the long stretch from Salida to Canon City.  By the time I reach the Kansas border and cross over near Syracuse, it turns into the flatlands and it's always a straight shot as I follow the "yellow brick road" back to Reno County.  For a person who never used to even leave home all that often in the years before the present, I've become accustomed to being behind the wheel now.  I am grateful for a vehicle that gets me back and forth and doesn't guzzle as much of the nearing $4.00 a gallon gas that we are seeing in our part of the world right now.  I'm blessed.

This business of flying is not one of my favorites, not even in the least.  I hate flying and I'm kind of tensing up  as I type these words.  I swore it off about 13 years ago and couldn't think of any reason I'd like to go into an airplane ever again.  But last year, in the spring of 2013, my youngest child Ursela convinced me that it would be ok to fly and since we both had wanted to see New York City that we should go together.  When we boarded that plane in Tulsa to head to the north east, it was a huge leap of faith for me but I did it.  Unfortunately for me, I took an unplanned tumble down the escalators in the airport at Detroit and the travel plan got altered a bit from there.  I laugh now as I think of it, a most unladylike kind of thing to have happened but except for a couple of broken ribs, I lived to tell the story.  The good thing was that I learned that I could board a plane again and take off to go to places that were much too far away to drive to.  Four months later, flying solo this time, I flew to Whidbey Island to witness the marriage of my first born son to a beautiful young woman who was destined to become the mother of a sweet little baby named Catherine Lois Miller.  Strange how life works for us all as we sit back and allow the "plan" that has been made for us all along, to play out. 

I'm figuring that I am a "late bloomer" as far as travelling very far away from home goes.  I have absolutely no desire at this point in time to leave the United States and see anything in another country.  The way I figure it, I'll be doing great just to see what life offers from within these borders.  I admire the folks that do travel abroad and I actually love to see their pictures and hear the stories that they tell.  World travel is just not for me.  But there are a gazillion places that I've never seen and before I leave this earth, I hope to see a few more of them.  People who have known me forever were shocked that I would take out on my own in 2012 and make a "bucket list trip" to the state of Maine for the sole purpose of seeing my first lighthouse.  Some even said that I was crazy, which sometimes I most certainly concur with them on :)  But I did and made it from Kansas to Maine and back with no issues at all.  Not one problem plagued the journey and except for the near-accident along some very busy road just about 20 miles from the Boston exit, I was an exemplary driver.  4,000 miles later I arrived home no worse for the wear.  Not sure that I will ever make the trip again, so far away and driving alone.  But if I never do, well at least I know this much.  I made the journey once.

Before school was out yesterday afternoon, I told my students that if the weather held for the good, that I'd be gone from school a couple of days next week to go home to Kansas and get my home ready for leasing this summer.  You know, I noticed something about their response to my telling them this time.  It wasn't their usual reply of, "Mrs. Renfro, you ARE coming back to us, aren't you?" that I have received twice before during this school year.  This time is was different and the difference was so subtle that I just now realized what happened.  They asked who their sub was going to be and if I was going to move all of my stuff back from Kansas to Colorado this time.  That was it.  No mention of whether or not I would return to them because the nice thing is that they now must realize that I surely will.  That has given me a nice feeling inside, a sense of surety for them and an even greater one for me. 

The clock on the wall is saying to me that it is time to head out the door for another day of school.  Friends and family who are reading this, I want you to know that I am doing fine.  I pray the very same for you in whatever this day ends up offering you.  I am growing and changing here along the Western Slopes and learning more about myself than I could have ever imagined yet to learn.  Love you guys all and by this time next week, I will be waking up in Kansas in my old house on 14th Street.  But the kids were right~I'll be back.

I miss this dear friend back home in Hutchinson, Kansas.  Lots of good folks live there and teach the children they send to school each day.

There once was a little girl named Sadie and her teacher loved her very much.

I'm so grateful to be teaching in a wonderful elementary school in the great town of Olathe, CO and to know that if I ever need a scorpion removed from my room that my good friend Joe will always come to the rescue.

 

The road has gone both ways for me.  I know the way home now~

why not write about it?

Welcome to Thursday my dear friends and family.  It's the day that the Lord has made for us.  My plan is to do as the "Good Book" admonishes us to do.  I shall rejoice and be glad in it.

Can you believe it?  I just looked at the calendar and here we are, nearly smack dab in the middle of the month of March.  ALREADY!  The coming of Daylight Savings Time last weekend has already lifted the spirits of so many of us who grew weary of the season of winter as early as, oh I don't know, say January 1st?  All around these parts of south western Colorado  are beautiful signs of Spring's imminent presence amongst us.  I felt especially happy to walk down the aisles in Walmart earlier this week and find the shelves filled with all the things necessary to begin enjoying the warmer weather that will surely come before we know it.  I thought of my own three children, now very grown up, who used to beg to go down the aisle that had the sandbox toys in it.  We'd always seem to go through our fair share of brightly colored plastic buckets and shovels each year but now that I look back at it, so what?  The days of seeing them playing and having fun out in the backyard sandbox provided memories that I still hold in my heart, now these many years later.  My heart smiles.

Yesterday we finished up the writing section of our Colorado state assessments.  I was proud of the effort that the students put in.  As their teacher,  I know how very far they have come this year.  For some, the words flow quite easily and for others it is more of a challenge.  Each of them are very different in their style of writing and that is perfectly fine.  It has been fun to teach them the writing process and my only regret is that we never seem to have enough time each day to devote to it.  Their greatest "reward" during the course of the day is any extra ten minute block of time that they can devote to "free writing".  Tucked neatly inside of a few of their desks are their first attempts at writing a novel.  I smile when I see the cover pages that they have designed on their own and when they come to my desk and say, "Mrs. Renfro may I please use your stapler?", I know they have finished yet another page to their manuscript.  Every good author starts out as 10-year old and thus I probably should be saving back a few of these first attempts by them :)  In the years to come, I would imagine that we will be reading pieces of their published work.  Hey, it can happen!

My dear little Marissa, one of the fourth grade girls who is an avid reader of this blog, is still at it.  Before school is out each day, she often comes to me quietly and asks me if she can take some of my sticky notes home.  I know exactly what she wants them for and I no longer ask what she is planning to do with them.  At night, before she closes her eyes in slumber, she opens up my blog to read before bed.  When she comes across words or thoughts that make no sense to her or better yet, when she can find a mistake that I missed in the editing process, she reports back to me the next school day.  I had to laugh yesterday when she came to me and said, "Mrs. Renfro, I do not understand what the word "rued" means."  I had to stop and think a moment of where I might have used it.  In fact, I had to ask her to spell it because it wasn't ringing a bell with me.

"You used it in your blog a couple of days back.  You were talking about your mom and the nursing home stuff", she explained.  Then I realized what she was referring to.  I had mentioned in a recent blog post that my mom "rued the fact that she could no longer take care of herself and had to rely upon others to help her."  Marissa had wondered if I really had meant the word "rude" and had simply misspelled it.  What a great chance to teach a quick lesson on words that sound alike but are spelled differently and have different meanings.  Now she understands and so do the others because when Marissa asks a question about this blog, everyone in class ends up learning about it as well.

Today's post in this online diary is number 676 which is about 650 more than I ever intended to write when it began back in the late spring of 2011.  I never had the intention, not once, to write this many posts.  Yet here I am today, the 13th day of March in 2014, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee beside me.  It's the early morning hours and shortly the quiet that I now have about me will be broken by the sounds of Mike and Sally the dog as they get up and ready themselves for the day. 

A friend at school yesterday asked me how on earth I ever found the time or energy or even the ideas of what to write about each day.  My answer was kind of simple when I told her, "I just write about life."  As I tell the kids each and every day, as we write on our own in class, the idea and inspiration of what to write about has got to come from within us and surely as can be, it has got to originate from deep in the heart.  I do not know what scores we shall receive on the writing part of the state assessment when all the results come back in late summer.  Yet despite what might be recorded in the official record books, this teacher knows that they gave it their best and you know what?  I don't think a person could have asked them to do any more than that. 

Have a great day everyone out there~
Thursday, March 13th, 2014 shall prove to be a great day to have been alive in.  And if you think today is going to be great, just wait until tomorrow comes.  It shall prove to be even better.

When at times the teacher shown above wonders if she will look like the teacher shown in the middle, she has to remember that the little girl on the bottom was once a fourth-grader too :)  I love being a teacher :)

upon the power of a four-letter word

Good morning my dear friends and family from a place far away, yet not so far away that I cannot at least send a greeting, a "hello and how are you?" from where I am at.  It's early here and the sky shall remain dark for a couple of hours more.  The weather app on my phone says we are at 25 degrees and before this day shall end, we're going to double that for our high today of 52.  The rest of the week looks promising as well and it's my hope that the good weather will hold for my journey back over the big mountain exactly a week from today.  I've been fortunate as I've travelled back and forth to be able to have decent roads.  Of course the surprise blizzard between LaJunta and Lamar in January wasn't all that wonderful for driving but I made it and lived to tell of the experience.  Now that we have gone back to Daylight Savings Time, I'll be happy to have the extra hour of sunlight and will be able to make the sometimes difficult sojourn over Monarch Pass with less trouble.  God goes with me and I'm never going to be afraid of the attempt.  Since it doesn't work out too well to put on your ruby slippers, close your eyes and click your heels three times and say, "There's no place like home", well I guess the only real way to get to Kansas from here is to drive.

Something really nice happened to me in Walmart last night here in Montrose.  In fact, something similar occurred  there a couple of months back and that instance couldn't have happened at a more opportune moment in time.  As I was writing out my check for all of my goods, I heard a little voice cry out from across the way.

"Mrs. Renfro, Mrs. Renfro!  Hello, it's me!"

I looked up in time to see the sweetest little girl with dark hair, glasses and a toothless smile walking by with her family.  I wasn't quite sure who she was but figured we must see one another in the hallways or on the playground at Olathe Elementary.  I smiled and waved to her and told her that I'd see her in the morning.  As she walked by, I heard her voice explaining to her mom who I was.

"Mommy that's Mrs. Renfro.  She goes to our school.  I see her all the time on the playground!  She's a nice lady."

I had to smile when I heard her explain to her mom just who I was.  She probably has never met the "cranky" Mrs. Renfro but it was comforting to know that someone thought I really was a nice person :)  You know, I came into Walmart at the end of a long school day, tired and worn out with a list of things to get before I went home for the day.  I'm sure that when I entered the doors of that place, I didn't have much of a "smiley" kind of face on.  Nope, it was more a kind of "geesch, will this day EVER end?" kind of look.  But I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glass of the exit door as I left, and there was a little grin on my face at the thought that some child knew who I was and cared enough to say "Hello" to me.  Her little act of kindness, totally unbeknownst to her, made my day.  For in the least of things, in the littlest of things, I so give thanks.

I wrote in this blog a couple of years back of a similar experience I had back in 2012 in the final days of my confinement in a long-arm cast.  I'm reprinting that blog post below, if you would care so to read.  At the time, I was in month number 5 of wearing a long-arm cast from my accident in 2011 and I was tired and worn out from it all.  But at the end of an extremely long day at school, a little girl had the power to turn my day around from the bad to the good.  It was the "power of the human touch" at its finest of hours.

Have a great day everyone out there!  This Colorado school teacher from the flatlands of Kansas loves each one you and is thankful that you are my friends.  Where would I be without you?  In a lot of trouble, that's where :) 

From February of 2012~

One four-letter word

A short blog post this morning (and oh yeah, I can hear a couple of my good friends laughing about the idea of me saying very little, LOL), about the power of "one word" spoken at JUST the right time. It happened to me last night, at "my" 5th Street Dillons Store and I'm still wearing a smile on my face because of it.  Here's why~


Because I'm a teacher and have seen literally hundreds of students over the course of the last 34 years, it's pretty common to go to the store and run into enough school kids to consider counting our "time" together as a regular school day.  It happens to me alot, it seems~if not at Dillons, it might be Wal Mart or the Kwik Shop or anywhere else you can imagine!  One of those "extra perks" of being a teacher is meeting some of the finest people around in the most unusual of places,  KIDS.


So last night, as I was standing there debating the merits of whether to buy "chunky" or "low fat smooth" peanut butter, it happened.  From the end of the aisle I heard it...."Hey, Mrs. Miller, Mrs. Miller!!"  I turned around to see them running towards me and instinctively I grabbed "old lefty" close to me (LOL) and shouted out a greeting to them.


They hugged me as if we hadn't seen one another in ages, but really it had only been a couple of hours since we were all in school together.  That didn't matter to them, they were just chatting away as if there was no reason not to.  Suddenly, around the corner, I saw a woman coming towards us.  She was following all the noise, obviously their "mom".  The oldest of the sisters ran over to grab her by the arm and bring her to where we were standing.  And this is the where the power of one "four-letter" word was shown...


"Mama, come here!  I want you to meet her~She's Mrs. Miller from school.  This is the GIRL that teaches us how to read!"


I thought to myself, "Did she just call me a 'girl'? Hey, holy moley, I think she DID!"  A huge smile broke over my face and as I looked into the mirror this morning, I'm still wearing it :)  That little child had no clue last night just how tired, worn out, and low this "girl who teaches her to read" was feeling.  I hadn't even made it home from school yet.


"Old lefty" was aching badly, it was 6:40 in the evening for crying out loud and all I wanted to do was just get the heck home.  But there I was in Dillons, fighting the crowd and pushing my cart filled with way too many groceries and oh yeah, one other thing~BEING BLESSED by the "chance" meeting with two of God's little people.


 You know, I probably have heard tens of thousands of words spoken in the last few days and most of them didn't even stick with me. Oh yeah, that must be why I'm always having to write stuff down these days, geesch!  But the kind and innocent thought of a little 8-year old kid who said to her mom, "this is the girl that teaches us to read" is still with me, verbatim, now nearly 12 hours later.  That's powerful!


I think this "teacher" learned a lesson about life while standing in Aisle 7 last night...and the lesson came from the heart of a small child...You will never know how much impact a word spoken for either good OR bad reasons will have on the lives of those you come across.  Gives new credence to the old saying, "Keep your words sweet~because you'll never know when you might have to eat them."


So, my loving appreciation to that little girl who unknowingly and most innocently made my day end up so much brighter.  For these, even the littlest of things, I do so give thanks to God above. I accept them with a heart, wide open.

One of the finest "girls" that I ever knew~My grandmother, Catherine Brown.  This is her at age 100.  She lived on well into her 106th year~I hope that my "grandma skin" will be as soft as hers was :)  Have a good day everyone and keep in mind the power to "make or break" someone's day with only one 4-letter word~

 

Upon realizing what I am made of

It hardly seems already 7 months ago that we all were back home in Kansas, sitting at the dining room table of my home along 14th Street, laughing and talking about life.  Those are my two sisters, Cindy and Sherry (she's the one holding a photo of our mom) alongside me in the picture.  Mike and I had returned to Kansas for a few days visit before school began in early August and the night before we went back to Colorado, everyone came over for supper.  What a fun evening that was as we all sat around the living room and shared our stories of what it was like growing up as a "Scott kid".  Over the years, the special moments that we remember have often become embellished with the passing of time but that really doesn't matter.  Actually, I think that's what great family stories are really made of anyway. As our evening together ended, we girls wanted to take our picture together and since our hearts and minds had been full of thoughts of our dear late mother, it seemed only right and good that she should join us in the picture.

My parents bought that house, constructed in 1930, in the fall of 1982.  My father was dying of lung cancer and he knew for sure that his days were indeed  very numbered.  They had been living on our farm up in the Sandhills of Harvey County and their home was at least five miles from the south central Kansas town of Burrton.  Mom didn't know how to drive and Dad was worried that she would be alone there with no one to help her.  It was his dying wish, really it was, that he find a place for my Mom to live in Hutchinson where she would be close to the 4 of us kids that lived in Reno County.  If she needed something, we could be there in just a moment's time.  On my son Ricky's 2nd birthday, October 2, 1982 they moved into their new house on East 14th Street just in the "nick of time".  My father lived for 8 weeks longer before succumbing to the dreaded disease that takes so many lives still each year.  When he passed away two weeks before Christmas Day, my mother was left a widow and she began her life alone.  It was the beginning of a 25-year stay there in a place, even long after she had left, that has always been known as "Mom's house".

I admired my mother greatly for the way that, even then as a  single 62-year old woman, she soldiered on after Dad's death.  They had chosen a great location to purchase a home in, the center of town and very close to downtown shopping.  Just a few blocks to the west was the neighborhood Dillon's store and often, especially in her early days, she would walk down there and buy the few groceries she would need.  Often times when the little grandkids were with her, she would take them along as well.  In my mind I can still see them, walking along hand-in-hand with her.  Sometimes when they were "good" (which evidently was alot), they would stop off at the Baskin Robbins ice cream store just across Main Street where they would enjoy a cone on a hot summer's Kansas day.  Times were tight for her, nearly always, and I really don't know how she came up with the extra money to routinely treat the kids there.  Undoubtedly she gave up something for herself in order to please them.  That's just the way she was and in my way of thinking, it is the way she always will be.

Mom entered long-term nursing home care in 2003 and it was the beginning of a sad 4 years of life upcoming.  She hated to leave her home, rued the day that she no longer could care for herself without the help of others, and settled in most unhappily to life at Good Samaritan Village up on 30th Street in Hutch.  By 2004, her available funds were quickly being depleted and it became necessary to sell her house in order to pay for her care.  We hated to do it, yet had no choice.  Any one who has ever been faced with a similar situation will understand  completely.  It doesn't take a long time to go through alot of money.  You do what you have to do in order to survive in this life of ours.  We sold her home in 2004 to a family friend who bought it with the intention of remodeling it and then reselling it.  I bought it  back the next year and it has been mine since then.

In all of the years that Mom lived there, happily and content to do so, I never had a desire to live there or to own it myself.  It never even entered my wildest of dreams, not once.  By 2004, I was divorced and I needed a place to call my home.  Strangely, oddly, ironically Mom's old house was ready to be sold and I was the one who bought it.  I moved in on the first day of April in 2005 and what I once thought was a place I never would have wanted, now became a place of peace and tranquility for me.  Times weren't easy at first and I struggled to make ends meet.  I had never been alone like that, in charge of only myself and no one else.  I understood my mom's "lean times" because I endured them myself.  You know, I felt her spirit there and at my worst moments, it was like she was actually  with me to hold me up and lift my spirits once again.  Sometimes late at night, shoot sometimes the first thing in the morning, I would talk to her and imagine that she was right there with me. With tears in my eyes, I would cry out to her, sounding not like the early 50-something woman that  I was, but rather like the little girl I used to be.  I needed her.  I needed a mom to talk to and strange as it sounds now, that's just what I did.  Perhaps equally strange to some, I believe she heard me.  It was in that house that I learned to do things for myself and to realize for the first time in life that I was really a very capable woman. 

"Mom, how did you do it?  I mean look at me.  I am struggling and alone now.  What will I do if something breaks here?  I can't fix anything on my own.  Who will I call to help me?  I wish you were here, really here with me. You'd be able to tell me the direction to go. I know...I know...  You made it through worse times than I am having now.  Do you believe that I can do the same?  Probably I really didn't have to ask that, did I?  You always have believed in me.  I promise to be just like you.  You didn't give up and neither shall I."

 Come late next week, after the last of the Colorado state assessments have been given here, I will make the journey home to Kansas.  It's time for me to go back and ready my house there, HER house there on 14th Street in Hutchinson for someone else to live in and enjoy.  I plan to lease it for a year while I wait to decide whether or not to sell it in the future.  The journey back home is a long one, over 600 miles in all.  In good weather, decent traffic and road conditions the trip takes right at 11 hours.  I'll be leaving after school on that next Wednesday to get as far as I can the first night.  There is so much to be done to get things ready and my time will go so very quickly.  It's now the hour for me to draw to a close the part of life that remains for me back in Reno County.  I know I won't finish everything in this trip but by June 1st, I will hope to have it listed and ready to go.  I have my work cut out for me.

It won't be easy to give up that home, one that has always been a place of security for me but it is much too difficult to keep up two homes that are so many miles apart.  I'm beginning to make my peace with that and rather than it set empty, it only makes sense that someone else take care of it in my place.  I believe that my parents would be proud of me for what I did to buy back their home and I always tried to keep it up in the way that they would have wished.

In the popular children's book by Laura Ingalls Wilder, Little House on the Prairie, the opening chapter tells of the time that Laura and her family left their log cabin in the Big Woods of Wisconsin to make their journey west to a new life in Kansas.  I loved the way that Laura described what it was like to leave their home of forever that day.  She wrote that they closed the shutters on the windows of the cabin in order that it wouldn't have to be sad to see them drive away.  I felt the same way when I left my home in Hutchinson on the 24th day of May, 2013.  Right before I left, I said my "good byes" to it, drew in the curtains and cried as we drove away.  For all of the memories made there, for over 30 years now, I so give thanks.  May whoever occupies that little home next be as blessed as I have been there.

                                                          I shall always be their "little girl."