tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16411546833680512024-03-13T10:13:01.799-07:00Learning LibertyIleana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.comBlogger172125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-45262468856979630022024-01-29T07:54:00.001-08:002024-01-29T08:02:30.701-08:00Fly High <p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-23a8cd0e-55eb-cfa0-a944-670da90fc86e" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-weight: 700; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fly High. Sing Loud. Be Brave. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tomorrow, 30th of January, it will be the 2nd anniversary of Liberty’s </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: italic; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Home Going</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. I don’t have a lot to share. It’s been a Achielean feet in this last two year. Some days Liberty’s passing was many years ago, otherdays, the loss of her leaving is screaming in my heart. I can let pity come by, but it cannot stay. Then there are the gift of feeling her dancing, and hear her singing. She is with us in her own ways. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am grateful for a great therapist who has guided me to unravel my grief. Having her on my journey has been a gift. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I wanted to thank of you who have surrounded me with kindness and support during this month and all days. I know I have a pack of people who also love Liberty: I share my love with you. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-weight: 700; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Wisdom of Wolves</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Found this book and had to share it with all. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><a href="https://www.livingwithwolves.org/about/about-the-founders/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; color: rgb(17, 85, 204); font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">https://www.livingwithwolves.org/about/about-the-founders/</span></a></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ygmhbi6PtdM" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; color: rgb(17, 85, 204); font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ygmhbi6PtdM</span></a></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Working Wild U”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><a href="https://www.elli-radinger.de/the-wisdom-of-wolves/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; color: rgb(17, 85, 204); font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">https://www.elli-radinger.de/the-wisdom-of-wolves/</span></a></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Libby’s Music to Share</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><a href="https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/libbys-celebration/pl.u-11zBXDbfN4LPANq">https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/libbys-celebration/pl.u-11zBXDbfN4LPANq</a><div><br><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-weight: 700; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Thank you Rachael Collins for your beautiful words for our sweet girl. I will always be grateful to you. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-weight: 700; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Obituary</span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Liberty Alaine Farley Jennings, 25, of Happy, passed away on January 30, 2022. She was surrounded in love by her family as she broke from her Earthly bonds into the arms of God. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Born on January 9, 1997 in Ruidoso, New Mexico, Liberty was welcomed into this world by her mom and older sister, Mariah, who was their birthing coach. Mariah never stopped being Liberty’s coach, best friend, and protector. They had a fierce bond that only grew stronger as the years passed by, a duo seldom separated. Shortly after birth, Liberty, her mom, and Mariah moved back to Amarillo, Texas so they could be closer to their Grandmother Geva and Yaya Helen. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Always an active and inquisitive child, Liberty loved all things outdoors. She spent countless hours trying to save spiders, baby bunnies, snakes, and any stray animal she could find. She earned the nickname “eagle eye” for being able to spot what others couldn’t when outdoors. She wanted to be the Crocodile Hunter when she grew up as Steve Irwin was her hero. For more than a year she wore a Steve Irwin Crocodile Hunter outfit daily and ran around yelling “Crikey” at everything she found outside. Around the same time she also wanted to be a paleontologist because she loved dinosaurs or a rock star. In her best version of adulthood, she really wanted to figure out how to be all three. In 2005, she began helping her moms at Elkins Ranch in Palo Duro Canyon as a Lil’ Ranch Hand, and for the next four summers, she helped to welcome guests for the jeep tours or serve chuckwagon breakfasts. She loved Palo Duro Canyon and camping trips. Often she could be found atop a rock staring into the distance. When asked what she was doing, her reply was simple: “meditating.” Her other love was the mountains of New Mexico. Nothing brought a smile to her face quite like seeing “her” mountains. When at home, she could be found in the trees that lined the property of her house in Happy. She loved and adored her cousins Jasmin and Xavier and they spent so much time exploring the lots around the house. Even once Liberty became too sick to play, one of her greatest joys was being with her cousins who could always make her laugh and smile. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-weight: 700; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sing Loud.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Music was an important part of Liberty’s world. She and her mom had a playlist for anything and everything. Even in her sickest moments, a favorite song would play and Liberty’s eyes would light up. Even once she lost her voice, she would still sing the words to her songs with perfect pitch. She always had a song in her heart and loved to dance. Liberty’s go to dance was lovingly dubbed “Libby’s </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: italic; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Happy Feet</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">” dance by her family. In 2003, she started singing in church and in 2005 she played Caiaphas in her church’s ASL rendition of </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: italic; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jesus Christ Superstar</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. In junior high, Liberty proudly played the trumpet for the Happy High School Band. Around this time, she could also be found with a book in her hands. Her favorites were the </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: italic; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Harry Potter </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">series, </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: italic; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Lord of the Rings</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, and any of Janet Evanovich’s books. She loved that series so much that she began contemplating becoming a bounty hunter. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-weight: 700; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fly High</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. In 2010 in the middle of her 8th grade school year, Liberty was diagnosed with Lyme Disease. Even after her diagnosis and her body’s slow decline, Liberty was the life of every room she was in. Her smile and bright and beautiful blue eyes drew everyone to her. Her spirit was infectious. She attended and graduated from Caprock High School. While there, she was an active member of the Key Club, the National Honor Society, and the choir. She became very involved in the art program and painted and painted and painted some more. As a senior, she was elected prom queen by her fellow students and later was met to a standing applause on graduation night when she walked across the stage. Upon graduating from high school, Liberty went to Amarillo College to continu painting in the art program for as long as her hands let her hold a paintbrush. For her 21st birthday, her parents held an art show at a local art gallery. Liberty and her art work were center stage. She was positively radiant as friends and family came to admire her art. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-weight: 700; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Be Brave</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Liberty was and continues to be an inspiration to everyone who met her. One could not see her smile and not be changed for the better. She loved everyone intensely and completely and tended to collect people who were drawn to her beautiful spirit. She bravely faced her illness and when given insurmountable odds told others that she didn’t need to “be brave” because she’s “got this,” but she wanted others to be brave. Liberty was a bright light and the embodiment of pure love. Her memory will continue to inspire others to be brave. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-weight: 700; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fly High. Sing Loud. Be Brave.</span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Liberty was preceded in death by her great grandmother Geneva Farley Bumpus; her Papa, Terry Collins; her Grandma Yaya, Helen Jennings; her grandfather, Bert Jennings, and great grandmother, Bernice Jennings. She is survived by her mothers Ileana Jennings and Rachael Collins of Happy Texas; her sister and brother-in-law Mariah and Derrick Neusch of Amarillo, Texas; her Grandmother, Linda Collins, of Happy Texas, her Aunt and Uncle Jennifer and Caebhin Howell of Amarillo, Texas, her beloved cousins, Jasmin and Xavier Howell of Amarillo, Texas, her Uncle and Aunt, David and Mirtha Beveridge, of Garland, Texas, and so many dear friends and family members whose lives she has touched. </span></p><img src="blob:null/5189c4ef-8408-4f01-bcfd-7ffc7a68be4e" id="id_1df3_d503_3b2d_763e" style="width: 0px; height: auto;"><img src="blob:null/23621c41-26aa-41ed-8768-c8626fe3e2e9" id="id_ada9_ec3b_348e_7e40" style="width: 0px; height: auto;"> </div>Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-37908740239929647992024-01-15T18:18:00.000-08:002024-01-15T18:24:11.173-08:00Coming Clean<p> <span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Coming Clean- 1/15/24</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-d97f628c-7fff-4335-b9a4-939188b81df3"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Happy New Year! Hoping everyone has had great holiday. For many, this is the time to make promises, resolutions, and goals. Something like eating less, or better. Workout more. Read more books. Reach out to more friends. Even goals of cleaning out the garage. Whatever your flavor of resolutions I hope they are going well. We are all trying to be the best human we can be. I’m certainly giving it a go. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">This blog update is not easy for me. I have prayed for several weeks about sharing this part of my life. Deep breath- Here we go. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I am sharing the timeline for perspective. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">In May of 2021, Liberty and I were in a wreck when dropping her off at her aunt’s house. The Libby Van was totalled, but gratefully Liberty was not hurt. Within another week, Liberty had a small seizure and she bit her finger down to the bone. These events are not huge except I felt a shift in my heart. I knew that I could not voice this to anyone until several months went by. I </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">knew </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">that Libby’s time with us was short. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I started drinking heavily during that month. For me, it was heavy drinking every night after Liberty was in bed. Before this time, I was a social drinker. No problem. But then…</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> By July Liberty was starting Palliative care. My mother passed away in that same month. Libby was in Hospice care by October 2021. We were blessed with a wonderful group of amazing people throughout Liberty’s care, but these Palliative and Hospice care people were truly a Godsend. Liberty passed away with all of her loved ones seeing recently. She is so loved. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Many changes happened after Liberty passed away: several of them were orchestrated by me. I apologize for all I hurt during that next year. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">After moving to Amarillo, I kept drinking, never so much that I couldn’t be the teacher I could be. Just enough to be “numb and dumb” and to guarantee sleep. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Now I know that alcohol helps me fall asleep, but not stay asleep. </span></p><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">This is my truth. On September 27th, I had a small wreck leaving downtown. No one was hurt, thankfully. Within that week I also got my heart hurt. I thought I needed to be even more “numb and dumb”. On October 7th, I drank too much and had a terrible fall in my apartment. I was alone. (Well Monkey my cat was there). Luckily, I wasn’t hurt very badly. Did get some dental damage that cost more than I wanted or needed to pay for my stupidity. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">This incident was a bell ringer for me. How could I be so stupid? How could I risk hurting myself? All I could think was how selfish I was being. I should never put myself in a position that would risk me not being HERE for Mariah, my family, my friends, and all my students. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“This is How I fight my Battles”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><a href="https://youtu.be/NoAqymNcBTk?si=nGxVA5xFTqppzve5" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #1155cc; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">https://youtu.be/NoAqymNcBTk?si=nGxVA5xFTqppzve5</span></a></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I have not had any alcohol since that day. It has been 100 days since I have had any. At first, it was a little challenging, as all my emotions were overflowing, but I didn’t miss the drinking. Emotions of the past two years began spilling out. Oh, my friends, you know it’s been a helluva ride, but with grace. I am still standing. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I am not going to apologize if this is too much of my truth. Grief is a mighty sword that can lead us to healing. Grief can also drown your emotions and move into your heart like a bad smell. For these last 100 days, I am inviting my truth to carry me to healing. Whatever your goals are, Please be kind to yourself. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">So, this is a chapter of my story. “The Story”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><a href="https://youtu.be/o8pQLtHTPaI?si=V3dg_x0C64jC7tpM" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #1155cc; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">https://youtu.be/o8pQLtHTPaI?si=V3dg_x0C64jC7tpM</span></a></p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Going forward, I am following the mantra from Libby’s Home Going: </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 25pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Fly High. Sing Loud. Be Brave.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> I have come clean. Thank you to all. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 480px; overflow: hidden; width: 359px;"><img height="480" src="https://lh7-us.googleusercontent.com/vCPyxRP5GGv4InsTmEOImQfipwzfh5cVL1XP2-LdQnTfMrl-mam3ecfd2awl4-ZCTL3LQ73LAZjY0q-CEpa7zJLbiuRCUI2JqekIYrKQtFAN6SCRZP07u70uQzgvhgYONG0XqGIayGNifQXEHAKHZXY" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="359" /></span></span></span>Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-40115966343469806202023-12-08T10:38:00.001-08:002023-12-08T10:38:21.734-08:00Advent<p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-017f6484-4ab0-cc33-2124-dad419a2f84b" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Advent for Us 12/7/23</span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We are rolling towards winter in a three wheeled cart. In Amarillo, we are warm, cold, blustery, dry, and somewhat wet in alternating moments. There seems to be so much to be done every day. In education, we have been in the chaotic time of re-testing students who were not successful on their previous tries on these tests. These re-tests have joined my world as much as the season of Advent has. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><a href="https://music.apple.com/us/album/light-of-the-world/1560658894?i=1560658895" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; color: rgb(17, 85, 204); font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">https://music.apple.com/us/album/light-of-the-world/1560658894?i=1560658895</span></a></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Much like the realm of secondary education, this is a time of testing in a multiple of ways. We are testing the students, and we are testing our faith. We are testing our teachers, and we are testing our patience. We are testing our curriculum, and we are testing our ability to prepare for new growth. Advent for me is a call to grow my testimony of what comes next. Advent is a chance to join the respite of waiting for the blessings to come. Advent calls us to be busy in spirit and physically resting. Advent is a chance to breathe deeply collectively as we extol the opportunity to embrace the newness gifted to us all. This time of year is my chance to breathe new opportunities and growth. I know some tests are out of our hands, but this one is within our reach. We need to believe that above all, we are each loved infinitely just as the tests in education seem to keep coming: infinitely. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> And why not? Next month I will celebrate Liberty’s Earthly birthday on January 9th. Then on January 30th, I will remember Liberty’s beautiful home-going and the imprint she left in our lives. Because of our waiting and faith, we get the chance to believe that immense</span><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-style: italic; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> love </span><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">will come to us. We are born to be loved. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Blessed Advent to all. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Great Podcast about Advent. </span><a href="https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/stuff-you-missed-in-history-class/id283605519?i=1000637435248" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; color: rgb(17, 85, 204); font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/stuff-you-missed-in-history-class/id283605519?i=1000637435248</span></a></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Grateful for our opportunity in Adult Formation and Susan WIllis at St. Andrew’s and their lovely information and history on Advent. We learned about the Advent wreath, the candles, and the Jesse Tree. Thank you all for the opportunity to learn more about this season. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><img src="blob:null/3d785724-c9cb-402e-9dcb-6ab9dd8611d4" id="id_6154_f322_8c_9f22" style="width: 0px; height: auto;"> Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-2043218991845054082023-11-03T08:45:00.000-07:002023-11-03T16:41:13.172-07:00Liberty’s AlterHappy November,<div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Here’s to a beautiful love and shared grief of the Day of the Dead/ Dia de Los Muertes. In so many ways we can tend to hold our grief in locked areas in our heart instead of wearing it as a badge of beloved testimony of our love. The idea of creating a heart safe place in your home, church, workplace, and digitally is a gift. In 2023 we have many way to do this remembrance. For me, the gathering and putting together is a grace-filled mission for my own testimony. Thank you visiting her ofrenda and loving us. We all need to carry on and on with our love. </div><div> <a href="https://music.apple.com/us/album/on-and-on/532314017?i=532314022">https://music.apple.com/us/album/on-and-on/532314017?i=532314022</a></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_1c6c_7aec_15d7_792d" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/drive-viewer/AK7aPaDLqcZrH4ZzyOXBKQsR4mA1YVooY-0hi9Qv7wT7Q974hKSBIRVNGSSczBwrKMYppg-2DID-wu0nl4eyTZo1oYyZnVEznQ" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 312px; height: auto;"><br>This one is in my classroom. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>The following are at St. Andrew’s.</div><div><img id="id_2433_67e1_95e5_47ee" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/drive-viewer/AK7aPaAc66Q89tJJjZO7BVhAaMBsLkpvZuKTmgnQX4cv5L6kebrGOQpzzv4ovBm_rezsKIxG1YAz_6ICkgTnQZuccgZdr4Ixrg" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 301px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_1de4_cfdd_3b4c_883" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/drive-viewer/AK7aPaBKDk7k7PLsNIaCFaWIvRNWLkHt8iR1o9Pr1YffpQr17HR0BqrED8wsiw4sFKjlIaoIVBz1dwyQ13K1gEdSlxrfGmgcdA" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 304px; height: auto;"><br><br><br><br><img id="id_65c0_25e5_3e84_afd" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/drive-viewer/AK7aPaBGMgTveNa1WYiMWSGGmUTYK9K5oEMft9WDRg7n3pwRghxy2e_KdGI2T3BzUBSsbgjNFBvCrfG8IGXsvK5UMxgwlcUJfQ" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></div><div>Such a lovely opportunity. Many people on our church family worked together to make this a momentous time to share our love, grief , and stories of our loved ones. There are grace filled with hope and love. May we all reach out to our beloveds and carry on the conversation and the love. Love doesn't leave with their body, it stays with us. May we all know we are loved on both sides of the veil. </div><div><br></div><div><a href="https://music.apple.com/us/album/that-wasnt-me/523220959?i=523220967">https://music.apple.com/us/album/that-wasnt-me/523220959?i=523220967</a></div><div><br></div><div><div>I have to admit that from October 3- November 3 have been days with a pained heart. I am trying to move on and let myself heal, but it’s not easy. Also, it’s important to not move too fast. I have also begun the work to approved for a mortgage so that I can have a home of my own. </div><div>As I continue to grieve in a myriad of ways, I am truly loved and supported by church and school families. I am so blessed. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div></div>Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-14481746162096341352023-10-25T10:35:00.005-07:002023-10-25T12:28:34.226-07:00Beginning Again 10/25/23<p><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/2778913-the-dance-of-the-dissident-daughter?page=5" style="text-decoration: none;"><span face="Arial,sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-decoration-skip: none; background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">The Dance of the Dissident Daughter by Sue Monk Kidd</span></a><span face="Arial,sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> 1996</span></span></p><p><span id="docs-internal-guid-a1ea93c5-7fff-47aa-53a4-e7101c853136" style="font-size: medium;"><br /><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #4d5156; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">This is a </span><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #5f6368; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">memoir of a spiritual treatise of learning, focussing on our inner need to be our own. Monk encourages us to look into our spirit to reassure, question, and heal</span><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #4d5156; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> from the world as a whole, our systemic patriarchy, and our own lack of belief in our own strong, capable selves. This is a text that I need to read every year- in gratitude like a checkup with my heart. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #4d5156; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #4d5156; font-size: medium; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">https://youtu.be/_rvexfQLDsM?si=7-W_OlLydpfWHywa</span></span></p><p><span><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #4d5156; font-size: medium; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Joy Oladokun </span></span></p><p><span><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #4d5156; font-size: medium; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"someone that i used to be"</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> <span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #4d5156; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Part of my love for this book comes from my own fledgling attempts to embrace who I am instead of what others expected me to be. This book came out while I was pregnant and living in Capitan, New Mexico. Mariah and I were living in the New Mexico mountains which became our duala. Liberty was the baby that I wasn’t supposed to be able to have. I was surrounded by several “Mountain Mothers” who welcomed Mariah and me into their loving acceptance before, during, and after the delivery. That definitely tracks when thinking about the life Liberty lived. </span><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #4d5156; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Betty E Shrecengost</span><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #4d5156; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #4d5156; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">was a stalwart part of Lincoln, New Mexico. She invited me into her family and taught me many things about living alongside the mountains. Including how to ride a horse while big and pregnant. The women of the Salazar clam ran the museum for decades and they enveloped me with their wisdom and acceptance. They also taught me how to cook like New Mexico. Grandmother Salazar talked about this book together after Liberty was born, including that as mothers we needed to accept ourselves, grow, and heal. </span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-ff4f8ee2-7fff-e3b0-00b0-f43a404f0f97"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #4d5156; font-size: medium; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">”</span><a href="https://quotes.pub/q/we-must-wake-up-journey-name-challenge-shed-reclaim-ground-a-1259991" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: black; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">We must wake up, journey, name, challenge, shed, reclaim, ground, and heal.</span></a><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #4d5156; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> “ </span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #4d5156; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">”</span><a href="https://quotes.pub/q/i-recall-that-whenever-i-struggled-doubted-wondered-if-i-cou-187632" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: black; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I recall that whenever I struggled, doubted, wondered if I could pull my thread into this fabric, someone or something would always appear--a friend, a stranger, a figure in a dream, a book, an experience, some shining thing in nature--and remind me that this thing I was undertaking was holy to the core. I would learn again that it is all right for women to follow the wisdom in their souls, to name their truth, to embrace the Sacred Feminine, and that there is undreamed voice, strength, and power in us. And that is what I have come to tell you. I have come over the wise distances to tell you: She is in us.</span></a><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #4d5156; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">”</span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #4d5156; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; font-size: medium; height: 183px; overflow: hidden; width: 275px;"><img height="231" src="https://lh7-us.googleusercontent.com/1M40j8utOi3QCWWUZK6gQ-jR53PTH6swNbFxXOenc3mDoyvOzwtanRyIaXAOwYHYwkjCGHBYKJeD3LxLzznxesri7MWoSunF3s9LO_UiA-FtrJUbpwFQwsb1M-bqwD3BD1-LOe28TvJk-CyYO2qqgoU=w397-h231" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="397" /></span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #4d5156; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I needed this book at this time again to find my way back to who I am and can be. In some ways, I feel lost, and discarded, and in others: I am awakening. It is okay to be both. “</span><a href="https://quotes.pub/q/you-create-a-path-of-your-own-by-looking-within-yourself-and-187381" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: black; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">You can create a path of your own by looking within yourself and listening to your soul, cultivating your own ways of experiencing the sacred and then practicing it. Practicing until you make it a song that sings you.</span></a><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #4d5156; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">” Now as we move into the holidays, please share your love with those around you. Have a conversation, share a meal, and maybe a genuine hug. All of us are on a journey, our fuel is the love we have for ourselves, and the love we choose to share with others. </span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />https://youtu.be/qXuPyE7CKZQ?si=Wk5dyFD0o57rl2W4</span></span><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Patty Griffin </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">"When It Don't Come Easy"<br /></span><div><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: medium; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">More of my favorite quotes from Sue Monk Kidd: </span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“</span><a href="https://quotes.pub/q/if-someone-should-ask-me-what-does-the-soul-do-i-would-say-i-187499" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: black; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">If someone should ask me, 'What does the soul do?' I would say, It does two things. It loves. And it creates. Those are its primary acts.</span></a><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">”</span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“</span><a href="https://quotes.pub/q/the-ultimate-authority-of-my-life-is-not-the-bible-it-is-not-187465" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: black; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The ultimate authority of my life is not the Bible; it is not confined between the covers of a book. It is not something written by men and frozen in time. It is not from a source outside myself. My ultimate authority is the divine voice in my own soul. Period.</span></a><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">”</span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“</span><a href="https://quotes.pub/q/the-symbol-of-goddess-gives-us-permission-she-teaches-us-to--187186" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: black; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The symbol of Goddess gives us permission. She teaches us to embrace the holiness of every natural, ordinary, sensual dying moment. Patriarchy may try to negate body and flee earth with its constant heartbeat of death, but the Goddess forces us back to embrace them, to take our human life in our arms and clasp it for the divine life it is - the nice, sanitary, harmonious moment as well as the painful, dark, splintered ones.If such a consciousness truly is set loose in the world, nothing will be the same. It will free us to be in a sacred body, on a sacred planet, in sacred communion with all of it. It will infect the universe with holiness. We will discover the Divine deep within the earth and the cells of our bodies, and we will lover her there with all our hearts and all our souls and all our minds.</span></a><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">”</span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“</span><a href="https://quotes.pub/q/the-truth-is-in-order-to-heal-we-need-to-tell-our-stories-an-187180" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: black; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The truth is, in order to heal we need to tell our stories and have them witnessed...The story itself becomes a vessel that holds us up, sustains us, and allows us to order our jumbled experiences into meaning. As I told my stories of fear, awakening, struggle, and transformation and had them received, heard, and validated by other women, I found healing.I also needed to hear other women's stories in order to see and embrace my own. Sometimes another woman's story becomes a mirror that shows me a self I haven't seen before. When I listen to her tell it, her experience quickens and clarifies my own. Her questions rouse mine. Her conflicts illuminate my conflicts. Her resolutions call forth my hope. Her strengths summon my strengths. All of this can happen even when our stories and our lives are very different.</span></a><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">”</span></span></p><div><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div></span></div></div>Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-78644205756186957262023-09-25T16:47:00.004-07:002023-09-27T16:30:59.116-07:00 Lost Birds<p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Haven't written since May. In the blink of an eye since school got out, then it was Summer School, and now we are already into the 2nd Six Weeks. Time is slippery: going oh so fast while simultaneously crawling by. It has been 604 days since Liberty moved on. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">The oddest thing happened two weekends ago. I came home from Saturday School and saw that the floors on the way up the third floor were gross. The floor was covered in powdery white ickiness all the way up to my apartment. There was a slight smell as well. But the worst was the sounds: like something banding against the walls and something picking at the walls and ceilings. Finally found the culprit: a juvenile Grackle. This little guy was lost in our stairwell and couldn't get out through the skylights. I tried to help this confused little bird out of the building using tapping the broom on the rails. This bird was flapping and flapping to try to get out. Over and over I tried. After thirty minutes I had to get back to Caprock, so I left for about an hour and a half. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">That bird was still struggling when I made it back home. This time I put some water out and changed my clothes then back at it. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">That bird was yelling at me for sure. How none of my eight neighbors didn't come out. The bedraggled birdy was hurting and not moving very well. He was more chaotic, and scared. After more practice and over an hour longer, with my Swiffer and my dustpan I started saying out loud, "You are not going to die today." over and over. At some point I was talking to Libby , because I needed her to help me get that bird out safely. I never touched that bird with any of my cleaning instruments until he <i>finally followed</i> the little noises I was making, and I pushed him out of the door. </span><a href="https://music.apple.com/us/album/ill-fly-away/269440847?i=269441201">https://music.apple.com/us/album/ill-fly-away/269440847?i=269441201</a></p><p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">The little guy flew away immediately. I checked over and over throughout that afternoon and evening and I never saw him again. I heard it squawking across the courtyard at my apartment. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 12pt; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Years ago, when the girls were under ten Libby brought in a little bird that had fallen out of the nest. She had brought all sorts of critters which Libby would place somewhere on her sister's bed. Whatever Libby was trying to rescue usually got left of something of Mariah's stuff. Oh, the squeaking and squawking by all!</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 12pt; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Trying to think through this earlier memory and the great bird experience, I found this article. "</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Montserrat, sans-serif; color: rgb(93, 93, 93); background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Many cultures believe birds bring important messages, so a bird flying into your home may be trying to tell you something. Unfortunately, it won’t necessarily be obvious whether the news is good or bad – we’ll leave that up to your interpretation.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; padding: 0pt 0pt 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Montserrat, sans-serif; color: rgb(93, 93, 93); font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If a bird flies into your house and appears restless, but doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to get out, i</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Montserrat, sans-serif; color: rgb(93, 93, 93); font-weight: 700; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">t could mean the presence of a spirit. Again, this isn’t always a bad thing, as the spirit might not be of the evil kind, but may simply be trying to guide you through a difficult time in</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Montserrat, sans-serif; color: rgb(93, 93, 93); font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Montserrat, sans-serif; color: rgb(93, 93, 93); font-weight: 700; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">your life</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Montserrat, sans-serif; color: rgb(93, 93, 93); font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">." </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 12pt; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/1641154683368051/7864420575618695726#" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; color: rgb(17, 85, 204); font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Broken Horses</span></a></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 12pt; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Libby's little birdie did not make it very long. They rarely do. I hope that my little bird lived on telling the story of the crazy apartment lady promising and arguing that it WILL live. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 12pt; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But my little birdie, my little liberty did not make it through her illness, but she damn sure fought against every single step as her illness fought back. I believe we have had ongoing interactions since Liberty's body quit. I do. I am grateful for every feather I see. She is in every sunrise and sunset. She dances to her own weird music coming clearly through the wind. Libby made us warriors in everyday life. Her stubbornness shines through Marigh and her perseverance. All of this and the date is 605 since she left this life. Here's to many more. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 12pt; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Time is slippery and I am blessed by every memory that comes through me. </span></p>Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-83330060975815479122023-05-16T16:22:00.001-07:002023-05-17T11:58:34.315-07:00 Counting On<p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-5071fa79-7fff-3c2f-eea1-591acc5b8f68" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In 2015, Liberty was a graduating senior at Caprock. That was eight years ago. On Senior Day, we enjoyed the Pirate ship, the Hymilayan, and a few more rides that were Liberty accessible. We tried to ensure that Libby got a genuine experience in her Senior year. It was harrowing getting her into and out of the rides, but her smiles were worth it. </span></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-5071fa79-7fff-3c2f-eea1-591acc5b8f68" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-5071fa79-7fff-3c2f-eea1-591acc5b8f68" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Her senior year was wonderful for her. And like many other parents, it was harder on all of Libby's family. There was a fear of the unknown, excitement, and trepidation. She wanted to graduate with her friends- so she did. I didn't have a plan for where Libby would go while I was at school. We didn't have a plan at all. Stubbornness won, as it usually did.</span></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-5071fa79-7fff-3c2f-eea1-591acc5b8f68" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-5071fa79-7fff-3c2f-eea1-591acc5b8f68" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Against my requests, Libby wanted to walk across the stage. It took a gait belt, leg braces, a principal, and several Special Education Aides flanking her through her journey across the stage. I handed her a diploma with tears running down my cheeks. I will never forget that day. It took her 14 hard and slow steps to get across to get that diploma. I am grateful she wanted to walk with her friends. Grateful it counted. </span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><img alt="" id="id_315d_48aa_4b1b_567f" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/drive-viewer/AFGJ81qSxzjbDeLVkGM2onYSdtQvUX1zu15NzJCB3biJX7A7_1AXYxjE5GuqOJNqkAV00cYTN-TD0AlRC5Agq31r3oOH3FZp" style="height: auto; width: 392px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><br /><font>I count. I count everything. And many things. I used to count every step on my walk after school. No reason except I wanted to know exactly how many steps it took me to get home to Grandma. For years I would count the time between breaths. Count the breaths. The time between medications. Counting my grief with every breath.</font><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-size-adjust: auto;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-size-adjust: auto;" /></span><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It is a blessing and a challenge to continue to count the days since her last day: 471 days as of 5/17/23. Counting the last time she ate. Counting the last time she laughed. Counting back to the last times she sang. I don’t need to keep counting, but it is a balm at times for my heart to count these moments and days. Instead, I can count the inches on her tree has grown, how long I’ve been living in my apartment, or how happy Mariah is. I can count on the end of my 19th year of teaching.</span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-size-adjust: auto;" /></span><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> This is a monumental passage in my life. Until now, I have never before lived alone. I have never had my own bathroom. Never had my own closet. I have found that I am better with less.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; text-size-adjust: none;" /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo465JD-yN1MTKOQLTC0VOpwk33_kNN0RFxImfpTdpSX5g2YLHlQ3TST1mksinat3q9O28NT2QDxyO4Y8-9RiWTH40dkrFTMN94ApbkK1HAGVrr8PYI_mEBW6D4p5ehp-yQ4QUe8jSpFnV0GST5YL6CiOJ4FbxBSpihoZmJAYPQtMJBHiDBjsGL38/s640/IMG_3491.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo465JD-yN1MTKOQLTC0VOpwk33_kNN0RFxImfpTdpSX5g2YLHlQ3TST1mksinat3q9O28NT2QDxyO4Y8-9RiWTH40dkrFTMN94ApbkK1HAGVrr8PYI_mEBW6D4p5ehp-yQ4QUe8jSpFnV0GST5YL6CiOJ4FbxBSpihoZmJAYPQtMJBHiDBjsGL38/w395-h240/IMG_3491.jpg" width="395" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Until now, I have always shared my space in some way. I have very few items in my tiny home, and that is good. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I don’t need things. I need time and healing peace. I need Libby’s tree to continue to grow. Today, I have Monkey, my Siamese cat, and he is enough. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">( I do miss my dogs, but there’s no way for me to have them now.) </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiuRN_vmnpJsGRexOWwvdIB2y2Xb0cnKnOOMDXR0tDkDvpaj0KyGe6ShnQIeGLCuAoE97PtKWRxZTsDRCSIWvbV7TnZpugVM-9tbPOm7CattLyYAEonMK5MjCC-1GbeqTCnE8hiMKZIfXUolt2ddwn5ix_bJzSQmTMeXuhyuXNGe9cfRh-rc_cD-w/s640/IMG_3489.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiuRN_vmnpJsGRexOWwvdIB2y2Xb0cnKnOOMDXR0tDkDvpaj0KyGe6ShnQIeGLCuAoE97PtKWRxZTsDRCSIWvbV7TnZpugVM-9tbPOm7CattLyYAEonMK5MjCC-1GbeqTCnE8hiMKZIfXUolt2ddwn5ix_bJzSQmTMeXuhyuXNGe9cfRh-rc_cD-w/s320/IMG_3489.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There is no internet and no tv in my apartment, and I love the solace and quiet. I lose time in peacefulness as I count my days. I am humbled to have each and every day to carry on. It is a gift to have the time to carry on, as I grow into my own independence. </span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mariah continues to flourish and become more and more of a force in her own world. She is kind, thoughtful, honest, and fierce. Mariah is everything I could have wanted her to be and SO MUCH MORE. Derrick and Mariah's understanding and support are a true gift. Cannot say <i>thank you</i> enough.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: medium; display: inline-block; font-size: medium; height: 461px; overflow: hidden; width: 480px;"><img height="461" id="id_a3d4_bd03_80eb_14f0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/LSHA2O0n3UVZY_R_0QqHVkzzl8EAr-bFdb2jaRkLd0jLVlXmI9bblI-XFthfbCCy4NQAh5B3zBV4iTdwfF-sfluZp9RdwhP1wT8q0aeGfHo0XpTuPAevPN-MTA8fCk-ibYrQDsVgbPW8CHi5kgsbMdw" style="height: auto; margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; width: 480px;" width="480" /></span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-size-adjust: auto;" /></span><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">More and more I cleave to my faith for all of the opportunities and </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">challenges ahead. </span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-size-adjust: auto;" /></span><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 99pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You are loved. You are important. You count. Every bit and breath counts. This time is not guaranteed, so we are all graduating in our own ways. And it all counts. For that, we are blessed. <a href="https://youtu.be/Iw3WbIbeXEU" target="_blank">"Didn't Know My Own Strength"</a></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-size-adjust: auto;" /><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><br />Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-53917409432190561362023-03-28T10:41:00.005-07:002023-03-28T15:12:25.495-07:00Run Fast Little One<p> <span style="font-family: Arial; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">I have always cherished the beauty of the Easter season. As a child Easter meant going to the garage sales with my Godmother to get a frilly dress, girdle, and “clicky” shoes. Not to mention getting my hair pressed to set the curls in the right places. I can still smell the rolls rising, deviled eggs, as the Ham baked for our after-church Easter Meal. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Arial; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">In church, Easter meant bright colors came out of their hiding to usher us into a new season. The hope of resurrection filled the world with a cacophony of risen life in both flora and fauna. Easter is the time of resilience and re-beginnings. </span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-72b18ef1-7fff-8ad2-0d98-3ed8b9004c84"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://youtu.be/37wV6D49iEY" target="_blank">"There is Jesus"</a><br><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yet, before we get to that time of celebration there are the deep, dry, and cold parts of winter. I am not comfortable in the dark, and this year Dark invited strange high winds that seem to stay on the Panhandle stage for encore after encore. The trifecta of cold, dark, and windy means there aren’t many chances of running or biking outside, but I still didn’t welcome the winter blues this year as I have in the past yearning to be outside. I am better when I can be outside. <a href="https://youtu.be/qXuPyE7CKZQ" target="_blank">"When It Don't Come Easy"</a> I don't think I am the only one struggling to not pick up the pent-up yuck of winter.</span></p><br><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This year, I am coveting the starkness of Lent, and the simplicity of giving away what weighs us down. As much as I relish the chance to love an unadorned church, I revel in the beauty rolling into the fully dressed church on a tide of colors. As simple as the church is when She is in Lent, She is just as surprisingly complex during Easter Tide. That contrast is part of my own emotional, physical, and spiritual rotation. </span></p><br><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> The more I am coming out of my Grief fog, the more I am realizing what is better for my </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">whole </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">self. That means I am finding time to be outside or get into the pool for laps- even if it is in short adventures. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 288px; overflow: hidden; width: 370px;"><img height="288" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/KDOlnT-C3GJeFTw3odEw9lh2SS_b7NxHmV8urgN3obWlODLQklHaaxekeKpcdiI-gwFa2Y2m-hd8UNnnDVeqq7HZhQ3VExgU-_MV9wTuXP2RJKia2IRu0_QgfPUs3Jna_t3B4V8cLhJu1E6xjKRRjBU" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; width: 370px; height: auto;" width="370" id="id_9550_a4b7_ffcf_e62c"></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Easter and all of the beauty that comes along with Spring feels like I’ve been charged with glorious enlivened growth. We’ve even had several little teasing spots of rain and even the dirt is wearing a “Spring come here to me” smell. Last week, 3/22, I had a doctor's checkup and afterward, I gleefully took myself to Palo Duro Canyon. I had three hours before I had to return to school; I took a half day. What beauty did I find? No longer is the Canyon wearing the almost simple pallet of winter yellows and grays. She is wearing lots of copper red and infantile greens as she gears up for the seasonal change. </span></p><br><br><br><br><br><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 402px; overflow: hidden; width: 395px;"><img height="402" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/63QLd504lPBDvg-tnJU5qs2TfJaZc-gz5xPNORGJCYpRG8IeYC58kgirEeIUfB0qgmW9b-VmdYqxUfwbynCTWMxTyAOjwng_EUbAwJT9GmolZia6YFyQo7PBlrCiGq18qh57FbDXZlf5Kqv0ygx5-nU" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; width: 395px; height: auto;" width="395" id="id_1790_e14a_c3bd_5ee0"></span></span></p><br><br><br><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I saw all these beautiful friends and sang my way down the trail. Then I saw the most amazing gift: I stopped to look at the stream and saw an adolescent Coyote across the stream. I didn’t get a picture because she was looking right at me and I began to cry… She stood completely still and then nodded her head as she sniffed in my direction. She was shedding her winter fur, as am I. Then I realized that her muzzle had red specks in her fur. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Libby was always the Wolf, the Coyote, the Fox: all the Canid. I just kept singing “Hi Libby- Hi Libby- Hi Libby.” I uh may have tried to follow that coyote for quite a while, and I could not keep up. I couldn’t keep up with her. </span></p><br><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I choose to believe that Liberty needed to see me as much as I needed to feel her presence. I choose to believe that Liberty was letting me know that she is eating after so long struggling to eat. I choose to believe that she is growing in her new realm by running fast as did so long ago. I cannot say that I don’t miss her physical presence every day, but I am grateful that she is free of physical problems. She has shed her body, just as the coyote is shedding blood-stained fur. Every Easter we can clean out the negative and water the positive; we too can shed what doesn’t serve us. </span></p><a href="https://youtu.be/O2CIAKVTOrc" target="_blank">"Hold My Hand"</a></span></span><div><span><span style="font-size: large;"><br><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As everything is dynamically changing, and growing in this </span><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Eastertide I pray that we can be refreshed in this season. I know that I am surrounded by love and support and for that I am grateful. Please continue to say her name and keep her in our hearts. Pray for her other family members and of course, for her amazing sister and Derrick. We are all </span><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">running</span><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> in our own ways. We are all learning and growing in our own ways. As stark as parts of winter have been, Spring can be a fantastic race of growing and shifting into a better and stronger version of ourselves. Run fast little one- I will always be cheering you on.</span></p><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 276px; overflow: hidden; width: 480px;"><img height="276" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/uIl5gwhWW8nn8ZuYj86ADFfYDLow9KSyK5kPJPfkJniWe1D7tKdzwfkfTqpHhkPXNRKSEtIvjJevcCqdnc3BAK_qbddJhpKkEhOcmy4uW2KCUdKh9nN9z1yjIrpeWYcNSZPmE3KgWXKQkTj1hZJpha4" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; width: 480px; height: auto;" width="480" id="id_8fad_b7a_73d1_801a"></span></span></span></span></div>Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-6515921507371848582023-01-09T09:56:00.003-08:002023-01-09T09:56:10.837-08:00The Remember Day<p> Today is Liberty's first Heavenly Birthday and I am much more of a mess than normal. She would have been 26 today. I miss her from the marrow of my bones. Miss taking care of her. Just <i>miss</i> her. </p><p> Yesterday, in church, it hit me that I have nothing to get for her. Then I realized she doesn't need anything anymore. Nothing. Her list of potential gifts is ZERO. So, I cried there in church. A cry that is like wearing someone else's worn-out shoes. Quietly and unabashedly. It poured. Crying is not a sport I am good at. At all. I am happy sitting on the bench in this game. It's just not natural for me- and that's ok.<br /></p><p>There is nothing left for me to give her. I can continue to do volunteer work in her name. I can tell stories of her to share her life with others. I can offer pictures of her and sign her favorite songs loudly, but there is nothing that she really needs. </p><p> I cried more when I realized that I do have a gift to give her after all. </p><p>Then, it hit me. It was right before communion when I realized that I DO have one more real present to offer: it's the sunrise. The only thing I can do is to keep getting up every day and doing what I can to continue. I have to keep getting up. Damn it. I have to go "on and on" for her, for Mariah, for me, for all of us. So there it is. This is the gift. "Sing Loud, Fly High, and Be Brave."</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwyHbWGlvXuk5EkMMd0ayXE5gVmYXLbvbV4_b0u0qyI2YOBbdo43kGfxvKd8fQLt-Jof6INRapFIiE8wm5fJWZg1ZP-dJz1RX9eyYLc4A_bMmQhOyZhuBBu0g90sBCktRRVkJfmEIiHKJmK_WJgaXAIpWZDeaW24F5WTECToEYrCH1XV5Jie2dZ-k/s640/IMG_2999.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwyHbWGlvXuk5EkMMd0ayXE5gVmYXLbvbV4_b0u0qyI2YOBbdo43kGfxvKd8fQLt-Jof6INRapFIiE8wm5fJWZg1ZP-dJz1RX9eyYLc4A_bMmQhOyZhuBBu0g90sBCktRRVkJfmEIiHKJmK_WJgaXAIpWZDeaW24F5WTECToEYrCH1XV5Jie2dZ-k/w283-h320/IMG_2999.jpg" width="283" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGtOk3I5_B7FCqWOC6O0tHWQMqHmya0nkgfi6ggwCntdu5uD4R6bvTXy83Q8CIcx-nClQ4qotR1XTt0qlTLeChVfmOcz9Qcqks7SYM4u8l9lz7a8XCsaAfNVsSK2sH_Vfp82UQ0CrGSzUNBVgTWCGr10zughszoe_s8bAw8gOpYnbSC6QT1OvEbD0/s640/IMG_3001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGtOk3I5_B7FCqWOC6O0tHWQMqHmya0nkgfi6ggwCntdu5uD4R6bvTXy83Q8CIcx-nClQ4qotR1XTt0qlTLeChVfmOcz9Qcqks7SYM4u8l9lz7a8XCsaAfNVsSK2sH_Vfp82UQ0CrGSzUNBVgTWCGr10zughszoe_s8bAw8gOpYnbSC6QT1OvEbD0/w208-h320/IMG_3001.jpg" width="208" /></a></div><br /></div><br /></div><br /><p></p><p>This weekend I went to the Happy Cemetary and was grateful for the opportunity to be there with her beautiful headstone. It is a lovely place to visit as my mom and dad are both there as well. I haven't been in Happy since my exodus in April, and I have missed it. Prayers for the blessing of health and happiness for the people in Happy. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Now is the time to decide that it isn't a mistake that I am surviving the departure of our Liberty. This road is terribly hard to navigate, but it is also vital. I have a gift left to give, and I will continue to try. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJd5ufDxa_Pl8TA9So85SrC7KTsD2v1k8todistMBJNvVyayJVQpUsZRSKcNYbgy8SnPxzyrYlYvld6KvN3PyOEvKoAryOB1RfdzVDGE3XOe0WDTFSl41Eid7ABG6Ub1VKC0ZC9EPKd-KU6hhY-D6Uhzip6aLx4hT3b2I-2NsP7ndPmXzUm1YqdMo/s1452/IMG_2524.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1452" data-original-width="1440" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJd5ufDxa_Pl8TA9So85SrC7KTsD2v1k8todistMBJNvVyayJVQpUsZRSKcNYbgy8SnPxzyrYlYvld6KvN3PyOEvKoAryOB1RfdzVDGE3XOe0WDTFSl41Eid7ABG6Ub1VKC0ZC9EPKd-KU6hhY-D6Uhzip6aLx4hT3b2I-2NsP7ndPmXzUm1YqdMo/w198-h200/IMG_2524.JPG" width="198" /></a></div><br /><p><a href="https://youtu.be/WEfVTUZ5xuc" target="_blank">"On and On"</a></p><p>On this day, may we all remember our love and live fully. </p><p>You are loved. You are important. You are a gift. </p><p><br /></p>Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-16463545620874278912022-11-21T16:54:00.001-08:002022-11-21T17:50:59.235-08:00 Thanksgiving Letter to Liberty and More -2022<p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-16165b08-7fff-4bba-d4de-419a07199e09" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-left: 108pt; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap; text-indent: 36pt;">Thanksgiving Letter to Liberty and More- 2022</span></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-16165b08-7fff-4bba-d4de-419a07199e09" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-left: 108pt; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is a mottled grab bag of love, grief, and gratitude. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It has been 295 days since your homegoing. Some Days it doesn’t seem real, and other days I wear your passing like a shield. Much has changed, much of it is good. I live in Amarillo in a tiny apartment with only Monkey (Frankie) as my companion. I find that I have much to do and yet there is nothing to do except to get lost thinking about you. Taking care of you was a blessing that definitely kept me busy. In hindsight, I realize that the most painful part of letting you go is what I am most grateful for today. I rarely wake up on a pill schedule any more, though I still reach out for you in the middle of the night. Loving you through all of your medical needs is one of the greatest beautiful and hard things I’ve ever been a part of. I am grateful for the long hard road we tripped down. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I wanted to write to you during this time of thankfulness. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I am grateful for the chance to be your Mom especially since I wasn’t supposed to be able to conceive a second time. I am grateful that you made Mariah a Big Sister. You must be so very proud of the woman your sister has become. She is a truly amazing person who is kind, strong, determined, hard working, and hard loving. She is the other half of my heart. I am grateful for the times that you teased then loved your sister and your cousins. I am especially grateful for the time you put the tarantula in your sister’s bed. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am grateful that you are exactly who you are throughout your life. I am grateful for your laugh- even when it changed. I am grateful for how you love Rachael and your grandparents. I am grateful how you love all animals and are going to be our very own Steve Irvin. I am grateful for your love of being outdoors. I am grateful for the movies you will watch with us over and over. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am grateful for your memory and love of music. I am grateful for your love of art. I am grateful for your love of hawks and wolves. I am grateful for the way you love your aunts and uncles. I am grateful for the community you created who love and support you. I am grateful for how you cried and laughed when you need to. I am grateful that I was able to hold you most nights in those last months. I am grateful I got to hold you when you began </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">sundowning. </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am grateful for the hospice caregivers we brought into our lives. I am grateful for the time you were with us as a healthy Liberty, and after your body and brain changed. I am grateful that I have a memory of all of this and so much more. I am grateful for my friends and family who let me talk about you, and those who don’t make me talk about you. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I know I was and am blessed in so many ways for loving you. Thank you. Libby, please keep coming to visit us. Please. </span></p><div><br></div><a href="https://youtu.be/KiypaURysz4">https://youtu.be/KiypaURysz4</a> “Holy Now”<div><br><div><br><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In case you are wanting to visit with Liberty, or want to sit in peace she now has a tree planted. It is perfectly planted in the south side of St. Andrew’s church grounds. I am deeply grateful for David Stidham who heard what I needed and took care of getting it planted. It is a hybrid of four different kinds of apples that will pollinate itself. Praying that this tree flourishes. I need it to, so very much. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-size: 8pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; overflow: hidden; width: 195px; height: 351px;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/x95qcPhL7LllWFAFvgAjS3OAqJXLE7yGthdY4TvAE6pDselN4g-hDoGPFrqx17QobdxOyaRgZFeDRGIC62QssMJtZbp7HS0UegkKMPqCNFPfgBz4qL_gB_Oq94D8DSAfavuJX7zZSaBY8_oKI8AuVr44MyV251VaMoB5tbiIncqBT_8wzb1QsjKIa_hz" width="195" height="351" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; width: 195px; height: auto;" id="id_4296_2db9_9956_2c9c"></span></span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The time around Thanksgiving has always been my favorite part of the year. In the last few years it has been a bit of a struggle. Even with multiple stumbling blocks we’ve always been able to come together, or mostly together and celebrate. In a year of firsts, my Thanksgiving will be in Amarillo. It will be hard, different, but it will also be blessed. I know some of the changes I have made have been hurtful, and for that I am sorry. As so much has changed, I needed to change as well. I am grateful for my loving and accepting community. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now about the food…</span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am going to share some </span><a href="https://youtu.be/2G6dd7ikrXs" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(17, 85, 204); font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">of our favorite things.</span></a></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Today would have been the 106th birthday of your GG (AKA Great Grandma/ Geneva Farley Bumpus). The month of November belongs to her as all the fun we shared creating the Thanksgiving meal together. She reminded me often to enjoy my time with both you and Mariah as our time will be short- much too short. One of our favorite times in her kitchen was making the yeast rolls. You and Mariah would dip the hot buns into the mashed potatoes and gravy. We all loved those rolls. Sadly, I was not given that recipe, but I believe I have one that is close. This first Thanksgiving I will be having the bread. Here is the closest recipe I could find. </span><a href="https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/8374319/grandmas-old-fashioned-yeast-rolls/?print" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(17, 85, 204); font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Grandma's Old Fashioned Yeast Rolls</span></a></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My godmothers, Aunt Gina and Aunt Verna, my fraternal Great Aunts loved to make different twists on family dishes. Most important was finding and crafting different recipes to share with their community of </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">church ladies.</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I was lucky to share weekends between my Grandmother and my Great Aunts, and sometimes with my cousin Tammy. One interesting variety I remember was being in the kitchen and perfecting a cranberry chutney recipe. It was an interesting departure from the canned cranberry that I enjoyed. This recipe is similar to what I remember. (They may have made this for their Christmas meal; I can’t remember for sure.) This chutney is so good and you mix and match many of the spices to meet your tastes. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><a href="https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/13524/cranberry-chutney-i/?utm_source=emailshare&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=shareurlbuttons" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(17, 85, 204); font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Cranberry Chutney</span></a></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I adore sweet potatoes. I like them baked. I like them fried. I like them in the can or straight out of the garden. I will put them in salads, soups or as lovely sides. I LOVE THEM! Oh the happiness when I found this wonderful recipe for a casserole. You can alter how much of the pineapple you add in, or you skip it all together. It can also be altered into a souffle. You can adjust to make it less sweet for your needs. I love the crunchy and savory addition of the chopped pecans. Almonds work as well. I just wanted to share some of my favorite things along with the memories. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><a href="https://erhardtseat.com/wprm_print/1258" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(17, 85, 204); font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sweet Potato Casserole </span></a></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Libby loves Pecan Pie.</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 700; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Loves it. </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> That is one of the pies that she would let me have the crust and she would ravage the innards. Both she and my Grandmother loved this pie even though it is always terribly sweet. They loved it. There are many places that offer a great Pecan Pie, but I like the ones I have found at Sam’s. They have a good bakery and offer huge pies. Between holidays, I would buy her the little individual pecan pies and it never took her long to eat it all! This last few years when Libby didn’t chew or swallow very well, I’d throw a piece in the Ninja and away she’d go. Especially when I was trying to keep weight on her. Sweet stuff for my sweet little stuff. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><a href="https://www.pillsbury.com/recipes/easy-pecan-pie/5c4d96b6-8173-4ad7-be2b-ee26ada91eb8?p=1&position=RDPToolbarBODY.Print" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(17, 85, 204); font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Pecan Pie</span></a></p><div><br></div>May you eat your fill and love more. <br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Be blessed my friends. Until later, know that you are loved. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br class="Apple-interchange-newline"><br></div></div>Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-68077981220429809952022-10-03T16:30:00.000-07:002022-10-03T16:30:07.657-07:00Nine Months of First<p> <span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Nine Months of Firsts</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-143217c1-7fff-17c5-35ba-7ebe2b439e16"><i><br /></i><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>I pray that the words of my heart ring true and offer healing, forgiveness, and hope.</i> </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">First February and Mariah’s birthday without Libby. First Spring without Libby. First Easter. First Mother’s Day without Libby. The first end of a school year. First Summer without a family vacation altogether. First New school year. First every day. Every day is truly a day without Liberty, and some days that is very hard to reconcile when I am growing and healing on my own time. I am so very blessed to have an honest relationship with Mariah who has her own journey to traverse with her sister in her heart. She strengthens me; she is a force to be reckoned with every day.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So much has changed in my world, and I know that I have been the catalyst of many of the changes. It has been growing- a lot of growing. It has also been a lot of aching hardships as I learn how to ride the waves of grief. Liberty passed away on January 30th with a beautiful hospice team, her favorite music, and her beloved family around. So many of her loved ones were able to be there to say their farewells and offer support. It was hard, and it was lovely. I could not have asked for it to be more peaceful as she passed. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Slowly my body is resetting, and I am no longer waking up multiple times a night to give Libby her meds or check on her. Now instead of getting up or reaching for her, I say her name and tell her I love her. I was blessed to have been part of her care team. This time last year I knew Libby would not be with us too much longer. Memories of last year are either convoluted or terribly clear. There are many things I do not remember or don’t want to. For months, I would wake up mid-anxiety attack and/or crying. I knew my world was crashing and all I could do was what I could do: love the kid and support the others who love her. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was the letting go with grace and faith that was hard. This hardness hits on and off like waves but hit full tilt in the last couple of weeks as my birthday approached. It took a while for me to realize that the heaviness I felt was the fact that I am still here and Liberty’s is not. Parents are not supposed to bury our children period. Losing a child in any way should not be part of the roller coaster we call life. And even though it was a peaceful and perfect </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">homegoing,</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> it was still going away from our girl. The child we all fought for and pushed to keep her happy and comfortable for so long </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">is gone</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Still, I remain grateful to have been a part of her journey. Grateful.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am putting that heaviness off, as I cannot undo or change the long, hard, and blessed road we all traveled beside Liberty. Now, we all need to forge new paths without her physically here. Since April, I have made some big changes in my life. These changes were for me to create a way to grow and heal. After over 13 years of being a caretaker, I needed to be able to find who I was and try on the new growth my spirit was craving. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I moved out of Happy and got a place for me to live in Amarillo. I have never lived alone. Never had a bathroom or a closet to myself. It has been a blessing and a new kind of being. I am learning to simply be in my space. I enjoy being close to the church, school, and even stores, but I miss the open spaces in Happy, the beautiful friends, and the community. I miss my dogs and other animals, so grateful to have Monkey with me in Amarillo. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My move caused many people I love pain, and for that I am sorry. I needed to breathe and heal my own pains. I needed to go. I separated from Rachael. In therapy, I have learned that two disparate things can be true, such as I didn’t want to hurt anyone, and yet I </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">needed</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to go for myself. Completing the steps to end our relationship was hard. We had many, many years growing together. Now I pray that we can each grow strong as the individuals we are capable of being. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 336px; overflow: hidden; width: 300px;"><img height="336" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/2f5YQZl6W7PyHPjSVJblJqUD4HHd3y5ompnIsn0O2TaKQpkfUycqhmAmtqsk7g1G5s9glscTWfCGGwI6aBLPaYzImlBkIFfoDhZGtFIThynnUbsxEwGfGCm2ReQiks6wuyZKJ1j8CmRgND2B03j2nm8XcrnT2pEY0vr_PBvh5KTsxTY8cBzcFbO0Zw" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="300" /></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 331px; overflow: hidden; width: 274px;"><img height="331" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/X665W2-NZ64HyeoxNldld1P3gOUP4g824u1k9Xhqe3WcH3YU-XXpluxzbEv5fwur_xAH9GBnneV3qgglx2AULu8XrdN6Kx9FjqMZHTWpj_JFD4o0gCo89DD1cbxtI1Q5801mXH2diBF__HTWn6veuSw8dzHnKLWpYC59ft9oAWz-OfZF8Biyb_qtUw" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="274" /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I changed my job as well. I went from teaching Advanced Placement English Literature and Dual Credit to returning to my first love in teaching: Special Education. I am a co-teacher for several wonderfully talented teachers. My learning curve has been huge; I love the challenge. The world of Special Education has changed greatly in the last 15 years, so I have great things to learn. I am trying. My short-term memory is not great partially due to grief. I am excited to keep trying and learning in this new position. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://music.apple.com/us/album/graves-into-gardens-studio/1524503069?i=1524503568">https://music.apple.com/us/album/graves-into-gardens-studio/1524503069?i=1524503568</a></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I pray that all that have loved and cared for Libby can grow and continue to share the love. As this is my first birthday without her, may we all keep moving forward in love and hope. Every day is a day without Liberty, and yet she is always with us. I have carried this grief in a pregnant heart as we step past the nine months of changes. I am sorry I have not been sharing for so long. Been doing the work and processing it on my own time. Thank you all for your support. </span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-51125518511619235062022-06-10T09:16:00.001-07:002022-06-10T17:03:38.579-07:00Waves<p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4126cd3e-7fff-c483-3b0f-d91a8ceba2bf" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In February, I had a talk with my principal and blessedly, he listened. I am continually blessed by my campus and cohorts. I had been trying to find a way to get a transfer or a change in assignment. I knew that this discussion could have gone several ways. I didn’t want to leave my school, but I needed the change. Another change in a barrage of healing and grieving, Another change to mirror the way I have changed. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I needed out of the coveted position of teaching AP Literature. I have loved and enjoyed the students and the AP style teaching strategies, yet I wanted to return to my first love of teaching students with different abilities. For months I haven’t known what or where I would be teaching next year. I have been specifically praying that I would be placed where I am needed and where I needed to be. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am a planning, list making, checking off the boxes, get it done on time, but what if, kind of chaos manager. Facing the unknowns in my career was disconcerting and a little exciting. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I realize that I have lost my self-confidence and quit listening to my own intuition. I have not been listening to what I needed for a long while, mostly because I was honed into what Liberty and the family needed. The little voice that kept telling me that I needed a change in my professional world also told me that more changes were coming. My intuitive inner voice has been awakened! </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(More about changes later.)</span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> One of the things I have been doing to exercise that intuitive siren within me is part of my swim training. I have been closing my eyes while swimming laps. Goggles on, belly button, and forehead in line with the long blue stripe on the bottom At first, it was unsettling. With repeated attempts, I have become comfortable trusting my body’s rhythm with the forward crawl. When in doubt, I can simply open my eyes to ensure that I am within the safety zones of the lanes and I am not running into the lane ropes or other swimmers. When in doubt, I check in with my body if I am within the safety zone of the lanes. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is similar to being on the track where I can run or bike and have to be hyper-aware of anything except what my body is doing. I can completely zone and pray and contemplate whatever my brain offers up.</span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><a href="https://youtu.be/zIC_9CI-FVw" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(17, 85, 204); font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">https://youtu.be/zIC_9CI-FVw</span></a><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> My current favorite artist.</span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Just like so much in life, if I can continually trust my faith and my intuition whatever is going on will be ok. By limiting my visual stimulation, I can zone completely out and “hear” what my heart and brain need me to listen to. I have had many “Libby squeezes” where I feel that she visits. A cacophony of emotions roll over me and then I have a knock-down drag-out over catching my breath. These waves of grief just have to run their race, just as I do. As the Libby squeeze subsides, there is a peace that brings hope and returns love to me. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Having your heart squeeze with grief and love while in the water is a different experience. If you haven’t cried and laughed while swimming with your eyes closed, I recommend to not recommend it. Just try to make sure to not swallow copious amounts of water. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Still taking Kitty with me. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; border: none; display: inline-block; overflow: hidden; width: 434px; height: 672px;"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/qV8WldQuP4MBsG8k5Zymf19sg0ZbNk_7-hGCxskufqkO8H1Lng0dwCTKY9Dkpi80VSroLYmdWpE2IPbjqj4ubCTK5aHaVvxnkZ6yOJSrsv1uJyLg8iBn6g2o7JUfak3VKbDrTC-EvDYP8uL4wA" width="434" height="672" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; width: 434px; height: auto;" id="id_23e7_406b_9fd_671f"></span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You are loved.</span></p>Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-57262191093921559822022-04-27T16:30:00.001-07:002022-04-27T16:36:49.704-07:00 Liberty whispers <br id="docs-internal-guid-1f2ac306-7fff-e569-555d-ca12ddbd2ca1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I knew that Liberty’s time was bgetting shorter, I tried to make a list of what would help everyone (me) deal with letting her go. These little gifts are what I cling to. Here is part of what I came up with:</span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><ol style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; padding-inline-start: 48px;"><li dir="ltr" aria-level="1" style="list-style-type: decimal; font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sing her favorite songs with abandon</span></p></li><li dir="ltr" aria-level="1" style="list-style-type: decimal; font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Love on one of her favorite “babies”</span></p></li><li dir="ltr" aria-level="1" style="list-style-type: decimal; font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wear outfits that she liked</span></p></li><li dir="ltr" aria-level="1" style="list-style-type: decimal; font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Notice butterflies</span></p></li><li dir="ltr" aria-level="1" style="list-style-type: decimal; font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Find birds (hawks and others)</span></p></li><li dir="ltr" aria-level="1" style="list-style-type: decimal; font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Watch a show or a movie she enjoyed</span></p></li><li dir="ltr" aria-level="1" style="list-style-type: decimal; font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hike for her</span></p></li><li dir="ltr" aria-level="1" style="list-style-type: decimal; font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Play in water</span></p></li><li dir="ltr" aria-level="1" style="list-style-type: decimal; font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Howl at the moon</span></p></li></ol><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> 10.Dance ridiculously</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Whatever it is, I NEED to feel her presence. This part is important as the ache I have with her not being physically here is overwhelming. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The </span><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">missing </span><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">of Liberty is an expected guest at this point. Never know when it will arrive. I miss her. I miss taking care of her. I miss carrying her. I miss feeding her. I miss bathing her. I miss her smile. I miss her eyes shining at me. The only time I’ve felt really pretty is when Libby told me I was pretty. I miss sleeping next to her and counting her breaths over and over again. It is in the missing of her that I can be lost. I held grief and fear at bay while taking care of her and loving on her. Now, I have so much less to do. Sometimes it is like a tidal wave of </span><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">missing</span><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> rolls through me. My throat constricts and my heart races. My eyes leak.</span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">These Liberty attacks are still there, but now I try to breathe through them. I acknowledge the </span><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">missing</span><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> has come for a visit. I have to let this guest in, so that I can continue. And I’m trying. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><a href="https://whatsyourgrief.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: 20pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(17, 85, 204); font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What's Your Grief?</span></a><span style="font-size: 20pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> has some great articles especially the information about secondary losses. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><a href="https://youtu.be/NiJUE9Eii0Q" style="text-decoration: none;"><span data-rich-links="{"fple-t":"Scars In Heaven - Casting Crowns (Lyrics)","fple-u":"https://youtu.be/NiJUE9Eii0Q","fple-mt":null,"type":"first-party-link"}" style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(17, 85, 204); font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Scars In Heaven - Casting Crowns (Lyrics)</span></a></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 20pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You are loved.</span></p> Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-88168069630059597742022-04-09T17:41:00.001-07:002022-04-12T04:47:55.788-07:00 Burnout <div><font size="5"><br></font></div><div><font size="5"><img alt="" id="id_9400_ffaf_473e_6837" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/F7dxnDxpETrJgepmmdHMPQhuJCtddDu-wPj-RHmERbpb_qodJ9VjMbPulQrma5V3hpI" style="height: auto; width: 392px;" title="" tooltip=""><br>Beautiful painting created and gifted to me by an equally beautiful sophomore: Irakozi Chantal. </font></div><div><font size="5">She is amazing. This is "Exhale". Thanks to Micah Muehlhausen for making this painting possible.</font></div><div><font size="5"><br></font></div><div><font size="5"><br><span id="docs-internal-guid-65fe4cec-7fff-db75-7ac6-e0267e83ff0a"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For all who are taking care of their loved ones: </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In my memory, my mother was sick: having more off days than good ones. She fought depression, diabetes, addiction, arthritis, and Lupus. Some days she could pull it together and others she couldn’t. Grandmother and I tried to take care of her when she was home. She was diagnosed later in my teen years, so that helped me figure out what she needed. Her stubbornness taught me how to be the caregiver that called to schedule appointments, to get meds refilled, to try to keep meds organized, and so on. </span></p><br><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As my Grandmother began aging, I learned more caregiving skills. By this time I had both of my girls, so I would bring the girls over and take care of what she and often my mother needed to be done. As Libby got older and her diseases raised their hideous heads, I would load her up and head to Grandma’s. There were several years that I would take my lunchtime to go and help Grandma bathe. Then I’d get home and bathe Liberty. Once we got a rhythm and a schedule, it was a beautiful time in my own </span><a href="https://www.aplaceformom.com/caregiver-resources/articles/what-is-the-sandwich-generation" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: rgb(17, 85, 204); font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">sandwich generation.</span></a> <span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was stressful, but it was also a gift to help my Grandmother in such a personal way. One great side effect was seeing exactly how much Liberty and Grandmother were alike. :)</span></p><br><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now, I realize, that I have been caretaking for a long time just as many of us have been doing. I know I am not alone here. We, the caregivers, keep adding on and adding on our responsibilities until we can’t anymore: emptying our batteries day after day because we are needed. Week after week. Year after year. (I have not been alone. This is my perspective.)</span></p><br><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The time we had with Liberty was a gift, and it was hard. It’s not that there wasn’t help with Libby. There were many who helped along the way. I did so much of her caregiving because I chose to. Once we started Hospice Care, I know I went on high alert with Libby. Hyper-vigilant in many ways because I didn’t want anyone else doing it for her. Because I only had one chance to love her through the end of her life in the best way possible. </span></p><br><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There were times when I would just cry out of frustration with Libby knowing that she wasn’t being difficult by choice. Knowing that she wasn’t being difficult because she was angry with me. It was her body. It was her disease. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There were times I would yell- I am not a yeller at all. There were times when guilt moved into my body because I was too busy doing </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">things</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> instead of paying more attention to Libby. There were times when my anxiety flooded through me because I was doing something that didn’t have anything to do with Liberty: running or training. Sometimes jealousy and resentment overtook me as I was not able to do the same activities other people got to do. I went to my first coffee house last week to hang out with friends. </span></p><br><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Caregiver burnout is a real thing. I am tired. And empty. My short-term memory isn’t working. My body reacts oddly to emotions. My sleep is weird, but that is beginning to get a little better, thankfully. I’ve been holding myself and my life together for so long; I am tired. I’m ok, and I’m drowning. Sometimes I am prickly and don’t realize what my face is saying. There is often a weight in my chest that keeps me from breathing. May have misplaced a large majority of my self-confidence. I find myself being more honest or not speaking at all. </span><span style="font-family: Arial; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am tired. I’m ok, and I’m drowning. </span><span style="font-family: Arial; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’d like to eventually find myself just being me. My batteries are empty, and I am trying to find ways to replenish them.</span></p><br><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For years, my time at school teaching has been my safe haven. I have poured so much of myself into that part of my life. That was for me. Just for me. I selfishly poured and poured and kept my teacher self separate. I realized I could continue to be who I’m meant to be and still be her mom. I could have little bits of joy and not be guilty. I also have open roads where I find solace, whether I am running or biking. Now I am extra blessed to have a church community who have also created a safe haven for me as well. Whether I am at school, church, or an empty road, I can be prickly and still be loved. I pray anyone who is caregiving finds those safe-havens. </span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></div></span></font></div><div><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><font size="5"><a href="https://www.icloud.com/attachment/?u=https%3A%2F%2Fcvws.icloud-content.com%2FB%2FAS9MSamBqIQS_2SS05pmCmS42EJzAcwfI7gx36TUdcp2jSxaNkWvkpfK%2F%24%7Bf%7D%3Fo%3DAjatwGs62hb-iglObgM3BFsugYBkaI3wxggyVLTz8t5e%26v%3D1%26x%3D3%26a%3DCAogNP6FbYCxXf287tLoEKmgux6USeIFCydI2bk3H_i6IzESehDnmp2HgTAY56qY24owIgEAKgkC6AMA_xJsFe9SBLjYQnNaBK-Sl8pqJ-Jd8dD5ju_egBFmtlZs1hJVKv9mhmei_vwQIxb0crBdko5PKmSnl3InvubjMhi8kxd0VhTYakW2IiCFw5nNuIe-sLPZlWaPLKsuMScqPp5F%26e%3D1652143035%26fl%3D%26r%3D815ABD45-E953-4D98-9332-85BEC6FB4C67-1%26k%3D%24%7Buk%7D%26ckc%3Dcom.apple.largeattachment%26ckz%3D35B91B01-1B15-4528-A6F4-2BD286D998DE%26p%3D123%26s%3DVHLvVUNsTAfDGaG8o-L-SlyaUC0&uk=1WDijtVNa1mkTBObR3Skbw&f=IMG_1249.MOV&sz=152886533" id="docs-internal-guid-54c4f023-7fff-def9-d272-8e09f4a19968" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-decoration: none; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="color: #1155cc; font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration-skip: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Little video of sharing the love</span></a> with a group of senior citizens two of my classes have adopted. </font></p></div><div><font size="5"><br></font></div><div><font size="5">Here are a few links about caregiving:</font></div><div><font size="5"><br></font></div><div><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-1503eef3-7fff-f582-e08f-543971878e5f" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="color: rgb(17, 85, 204); font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration-skip: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://www.helpguide.org/articles/stress/caregiver-stress-and-burnout.htm" target="_blank"><font size="5">Caregiver Burnout</font></a></span></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-1503eef3-7fff-f582-e08f-543971878e5f" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><font size="5">The burnout tips are solid. </font></p><font size="5"><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-size-adjust: auto;"></font><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="color: rgb(17, 85, 204); font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration-skip: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font size="5"><a href="https://www.caregiver.org/caregiver-resources/" target="_blank">Resource</a>s for Caretakers</font></span></p><font size="5"><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-size-adjust: auto;"></font><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="color: rgb(17, 85, 204); font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration-skip: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://www.aarp.org/caregiving/basics/info-2020/long-term-care.html" target="_blank"><font size="5">Great resources</font></a></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><font size="5"><br></font></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><font size="5">I am so grateful for all of my community who have surrounded me and supported me through so much. Caretaking is one of the hardest and most beautifully blessed messy things I've done.</font></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><font size="5"><a href="https://youtu.be/nKBkdp_gCCs" target="_blank" id="id_c557_6c34_2154_a5a9">Play this one loud so maybe I can hear it...</a> Many have been through so much in the past few years, let's learn to let life love us. </font></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><font size="5"><br></font></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><font size="5">Blessings! </font></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><font size="5">ileana Twig </font></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><font size="5"><br></font></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><font size="5">**Addendum: many of us are still caretaking after our loved ones have passed on. That's also a legitimate form of caretaking. We can't take care of or loves in human form, so we continue. You are also caretakers who need to consider the fatigue and burnout that can occur. Please find ways to recharge your batteries, my beloved friends. </font></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></p></div>Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-73103351435948245782022-03-30T09:03:00.262-07:002022-04-03T18:45:20.846-07:00Want to Want to<div><br /></div><div>I apologize now for how egocentric this post is. Wanted to share how fear, stress, and grief can affect us.</div><div><br /></div><div>It is nine weeks since Liberty left her physical presence. It feels like twelve years ago and also yesterday. </div><div>Waking up reaching for her. Waking up panicking because I forgot to give her meds. Rushing to the car after the last bell at school, only to remember that she doesn't need me anymore. Still going to the fridge to warm up her meal to realize it is no longer needed. My body still waking up on her pill schedules.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF9OlXqtCwTpABiUXRaHy8zvE_GWDVEx_lk4ouYoQ140y7lVDOBlxS0YXIl71eeC_asCvboJP_NTJlDFw_VSXzqU4YlMNv_XadknLVXFrGpR0FS7mu_hBhA7pszMk7WNjjy3GilPdk3cakrUE9q4Wjqdx2j_MCCA0MPRQ1H1Yaw0etvyLOeyg3xHA/s1000/time-healing.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="562" data-original-width="1000" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF9OlXqtCwTpABiUXRaHy8zvE_GWDVEx_lk4ouYoQ140y7lVDOBlxS0YXIl71eeC_asCvboJP_NTJlDFw_VSXzqU4YlMNv_XadknLVXFrGpR0FS7mu_hBhA7pszMk7WNjjy3GilPdk3cakrUE9q4Wjqdx2j_MCCA0MPRQ1H1Yaw0etvyLOeyg3xHA/s320/time-healing.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(We heal ourselves with much help.)</div></div><div>It is strange and beautiful how my brain is dealing with grief. My grief is like a pressure cooker filled with jelly jars. I think it's in control and it sneaks out oozing sticky sweetness on the stove. Other times it explodes without warning and my throat constricts and I cannot breathe. Not a fan of losing control of my emotions in that way. Grief is a sneaky, sticky bitch most of the time, but I am grateful to know and recognize her when she joins me. Looking at me I am healthy. I work out. I eat mostly healthy foods. Looking deeper I have used exercise and controlled eating to hide the neglect in the rest of my body. I have believed that whatever everyone else needed was more important. (Don't think I am alone in this thinking.) </div><div><br /></div><div>Between December and January, two of my teeth broke off almost to the gums. My teeth have always been an issue as they are weak and painful. I carry a great shame about them as nothing that I and various dentists have tried has been very successful. I was focused on caretaking and teaching. I ignored the pain and ended up with an infection. I told no one. I have been to a new dentist twice in the last two weeks and have several more appointments to get the damage and my recent neglect handled. I am grateful for a beautiful friend who mentioned this wonderful dentist to me. </div><div>I want to want to be better to myself.</div><div><br /></div><div>After three years, I went to get my eyes checked. Have been so afraid of how bad my eyes have been getting that I have ignored them since we went into lockdown in 2020. Also discovered that I have real issues driving in the dark. I now have new glasses and I am grateful although it is hard getting used to wearing them. I want to want to be better to myself.</div><div><br /></div><div>This section may not be in poor taste; my apologies. </div><div>In May of 2021 when Libby started Sundowning, my monthly cycles went crazy. For several months I had five to ten days BETWEEN cycles. Did pass my yearly check-up under the hood up in August. I have been proudly a machine following a schedule for a decade or more. These last 11 months have been unpredictable and draining. I have some fear and much shame about any intensive medical exams or procedures. Thanks to another beautiful friend for the recommendation I have an appointment with an OBGYN this week. I want to want to be better to myself.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have struggled with ulcers since I was 12. Interestingly, since May, my emotions have lived in my belly and burned along with my heartburn. I tend to hold my voice and swallow many emotions. I know I need to get my guts checked. That is coming in the next few months. I want to want to be better to myself.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://youtu.be/wms76AfllVE">"Who you are to me"</a></div><div><br /></div><div>My mental health mirrors the neglect in my physical body. All that time with Libby and I never considered how I would survive letting Liberty go. I have been carrying around resentment, shame from childhood and early adulthood, guilt, and my current loud and obnoxious passenger: grief. Know I need to not be in a caregiving role for a while. I feel like I am drowning personally and thriving in the classroom. I could not ask for more understanding teachers and students around me. In that, I am truly blessed. When someone asks me how I am doing, I say with joy, "I get to be at school today." I mean it. School is and has been my happy place. I continue to be blessed to get to teach. Once again, I have been blessed by a dear friend who gave me the name of a counselor and I have an appointment coming up this month. I am grateful and scared. I just want to want to be better FOR myself and everyone else. </div><div><a href="https://youtu.be/sIaT8Jl2zpI">"You Say"</a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I am trying. Willing to try to be better. I have to believe in the promise I have in my faith. I made promises to Libby that I want to keep. </div><div><br /></div><div>Sorry this is so much about me. Just working through my shit one appointment at a time. </div><div><br /></div><div>You are loved and you are worthy of taking care of yourself.</div><div><br /></div><div>twig</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-60987800459736929912022-02-25T07:40:00.009-08:002022-02-27T16:58:44.270-08:00Four Weeks<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Happy end of February,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">As of today, it will be four weeks. Four weeks of feeling everything and yet nothing. Four weeks of waking up and forgetting and then remembering. Four weeks of missing Liberty and yearning to love on her one more time. Four weeks of trying to understand what I'm supposed to do with all my free time. What am I supposed to be doing? Loving and caring for Libby kept me very busy. Now, I have a hole in my time. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I have this recurring deep ache in my torso. It feels as if there is a literal hole that burns and hurts. Then I can't breathe. My throat clenches closed. I can't think past the unadulterated missing of her. Finally, the tears come. Eventually, I can swallow again. I'm calling them Liberty attacks. Like all things Liberty, I cannot predict when they will hit.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And it's okay. It's good to feel the hard emotions too. I spend a lot of time being numb which is beginning to fade- gracefully. My brain isn't holding some thoughts as long as it used to, grief fog is real for me. I am blessed by the people I work and worship with as they continue to reach out to me and offer hugs and understanding. It helps. Not sure how to carry this grief, so I'll embrace all the support I can. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I do not want to become stuck in the sad cycle. I don't want to see my laugh lines become grief lines. Been holding my breath for many years, pleading to keep Libby here and healthy. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Think I need to find ways to love the life I shared with Libby and to continue to love life now. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">In the past, I have said "I am broken" after whatever painful event occurred, but I don't really think we become broken. I think that we bend and bend and bend like a tree. And sometimes we may feel broken.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjpp6_LqiaaLDoKi7d3UuJY5Of2zprMKUdrsc6eGzTMyEU1W48le_Tiklq91DnKt0eQci0SqLjP6Nim6w5n7NMf6NJjrdaBr_aKgSO5Nk_cUzXGzEqfoYiKV5dtOt7Q44S-f-73yuhT_aFA0x8RlJ67eeeM2Mpt_DwK8cugG_tUHqzhFtSLuFEmCEM" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="452" data-original-width="678" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjpp6_LqiaaLDoKi7d3UuJY5Of2zprMKUdrsc6eGzTMyEU1W48le_Tiklq91DnKt0eQci0SqLjP6Nim6w5n7NMf6NJjrdaBr_aKgSO5Nk_cUzXGzEqfoYiKV5dtOt7Q44S-f-73yuhT_aFA0x8RlJ67eeeM2Mpt_DwK8cugG_tUHqzhFtSLuFEmCEM=w412-h255" width="412" /></a> </span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">We, meaning me, tend to let the daily pains and/or struggles build up until we have to either bend or break. As yoga and life have taught me, I get stronger when I bend. Like the trees in the Texas Panhandle, we bend to the winds. When I think of the many ways I am blessed to be able to do so I have a small idea of the grace we are offered. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiaFVpssfFLyBSufdgQH8t6P_xm8QYYrXwI0E6euBs_5IvPk9fiaJxqivOTFV_s76E-WcGR_XDghrARki0yJWrJVt3-FtngDxsv1w1GULhpw0fKwIthOfPiiz_jWow4iipSVKFTmeF-yo2UeSQYK8yhhvZBHibwk5KtVeBFzZDkuEhLVPF_Rld0FVQ=s640" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiaFVpssfFLyBSufdgQH8t6P_xm8QYYrXwI0E6euBs_5IvPk9fiaJxqivOTFV_s76E-WcGR_XDghrARki0yJWrJVt3-FtngDxsv1w1GULhpw0fKwIthOfPiiz_jWow4iipSVKFTmeF-yo2UeSQYK8yhhvZBHibwk5KtVeBFzZDkuEhLVPF_Rld0FVQ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Thanks to a student who told me about this cool kind of fixing pottery: Kintsugi. There is a cool story attached to this method of filing in and then admiring the preciously scared broken pottery have. The Japanese have found a way to fill in the broken parts of the pottery with gold, which is much like the grace offered to us. You see, we may bend and sometimes break, but with whatever faith we embrace, our scars can become beautiful opportunities to grow. </span><a href="https://www.lifegate.com/kintsugi" style="font-size: large;">https://www.lifegate.com/kintsugi</a> is a cool site to check out. This time of missing Libby makes me feel like I've been stripped of the powerful love we shared. I need the reminder that she is with us- with me. Taking Sparkles and Kitty out helps a lot. These scars of missing her will be ones I wear with honor. They will become what I showcase. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgzfef89I27PbPg9m7cWZ2yS6elvsW7De-LhH8lRGRQVbhBmB8tZa81lJiiidkYPfjFGOWRJmLm51qqlXazf5MauTTWbNy8rNRY9zteuNJxkMfI5ecOz5KZ5MA3dw7EADd4bYd9HuBOEI_3O14nowuauaRw4mHfRwSFkVbn8iK1EbzjEFtc7hzGuC0=s640" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgzfef89I27PbPg9m7cWZ2yS6elvsW7De-LhH8lRGRQVbhBmB8tZa81lJiiidkYPfjFGOWRJmLm51qqlXazf5MauTTWbNy8rNRY9zteuNJxkMfI5ecOz5KZ5MA3dw7EADd4bYd9HuBOEI_3O14nowuauaRw4mHfRwSFkVbn8iK1EbzjEFtc7hzGuC0=s320" width="240" /></a></div>While healing, I think it's a good idea to let life love us.<br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">A song to help soothe<a href="with love"> https://youtu.be/nKBkdp_gCCs</a></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p>Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-72762292807939549662022-02-12T13:14:00.001-08:002022-02-13T05:40:07.988-08:00Two weeks<div><br></div><div>Not sure that there any words to share how grateful I am to everyone who has prayed, meditated, saged, texted, called, emailed, came by, and attended the Celebration of Life memorial. We are truly being held in the most amazing and needed embrace through many years, but especially in the last month. </div><div><br></div><div>If you didn’t get it, here is the link that has the slideshow that Rachael put together, the playlist, and the obituary. </div><div><br></div><div><a href="https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1psESxIHLfry3UPEagpR07Lz2SzTc_idT93UdUT2EdDA/edit">https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1psESxIHLfry3UPEagpR07Lz2SzTc_idT93UdUT2EdDA/edit</a></div><div><br></div><div>Truly. Thank you. The last month was hard in an Sisyphean way. </div><div><br></div>I wanted to share the last 26 hours with our girl. This is not meant to be sad; it is shared with an open compassionate heart. <div><br></div><div>Saturday, January 29 was a long, sad, and beautiful day. We had so many people come to the house to sit with us and love on Libby. She was able to FaceTime with my brother and one of her best friends in Happy. My beautiful cousin and her awesome husband came from Tulsa. We spent the day eating, laughing, and some crying. </div><div>This was day 11 of no eating and barely any drinking. She was not really responding at all. Her heart was still pumping, but she was leaving us. </div><div><br></div><div>We all told her it was okay to go. </div><div><br></div><div>Our night was restless. Instead of every two hours, I woke up about every hour. I’d wake up nervously, hand in her belly counting her breaths. Counting and knowing how close to the end she was. Rachael gave meds at 2:00 am. At 4:00 she was struggling more to breathe. This time her body was completely lax. </div><div><img id="id_582_6499_a974_a357" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/N5JPd3BZZi_EdnWEX9yyQiMlRgmuHMy_3wlXtfRhwgbwnt6K0Sxus2t0uF5dK1RQdZw" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></div><div>At 6:00 am I have her meds and snuggled in for a little bit, then got up to start the day. I’d been working out on the kitchen, quieter in there, and going in the check on her every ten to fifteen minutes. I went in to check on her at about 6:45. She was noticeably gasping in little breaths. I knew it was time and I couldn’t move. I wanted to give her my breaths. Inside I was screaming, “stay with me” and “don’t go” even though I knew it was time. I muttered something about the promises we had made that she would let me know that she THERE and okay and the promises our God has made to us. </div><div><br></div><div>7:00 I went to get Rachael and gratefully she made it into the room for the last few breaths. </div><div><br></div><div>We moved her into the living room onto her hospice bed. It’s hard to explain how the emotions pours out and yet there was nothing. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t stop loving on her. Kept messing with the blankets and other such bullshit. </div><div>Notified our hospice team and waited. </div><div><br></div><div>Her official passing is 9:00am. It took our wonderful nurse a while to get to Happy and get the paperwork started. Our Spiritual Care Deacon/guru Mildred guided us wonderfully. Cannot say enough about our hospice team!!</div><div><br></div><div>Most importantly for me was the cleansing and anointing that needed to be done. There is a beauty in the familial cleansing of our loved ones. In the way many women have come together to prepare their recently departed loves. </div><div><br></div><div> With our sweet team and Grandma Linda, we sang her songs. We cleansed her body. We prayed to rejoice in her accomplishments. We prayed to mourn the children, and love, and life she wouldn’t have in the mortal life. We rejoiced for the love and accomplishments she will have in this next existence. I let her go with my broken heart and full of faith in the promises given by the God of my understanding. We sang on. </div><div><br></div><div>We anointed her with oil that I have that smells like the mountains she will be flying over and beyond. </div><div><br></div><div>We dressed her in her bright red shirt that had the Statue of Liberty on it and said “be a lady” because hell yes. </div><div><br></div><div>It’s probably crazy, but I couldn’t stand anyone else lifting her. I did it. I tucked her into her blankets/sheets as I couldn’t fathom a man touching her. My mommy powers were in full form. </div><div><br></div><div>I helped place her in the van. </div><div><br></div><div>I would have chased that van all the way to Canyon and demanded that she be given back to me, but it couldn’t happen. She had already left. </div><div><br></div><div>After the van pulled away, there was a group of birds flying over and I said, “Hi Libby.” And went inside. </div><div>Rachael moved the hospice bed out of the living room and we took a few long deep breaths. </div><div><br></div><div><a href="https://music.apple.com/us/album/broken-horses/1577159552?i=1577159680">https://music.apple.com/us/album/broken-horses/1577159552?i=1577159680</a> “Only broken horses know to run” I can see her galloping away…..</div><div><br></div><div>The handwritten “I love you guys” is one of the last good samples of Libby’s writing. And it’s true; she loves you all. </div><div>Be blessed and know we all have the most special angel pushing us forward. “On and On”….</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_e88_9dbe_edf4_8fc4" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/EZtKAexCpUM_TZbcL8KM0hwwv0OtzxVYlXZ_yhz3naVbvzU5FAoD5mHnQHJcLAIifs4" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></div>Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-66950594622141097372022-01-28T06:38:00.001-08:002022-01-28T07:54:34.513-08:00Libby’s Willow We have bought many trees to add to our property beside the house. Many trees. Trees of all kinds. Whole trees- saplings- seeds- all of it. We did research and planted another and another variety. None of them really took. <div><br></div><div>Until after her diagnosis in 2012, Liberty asked for a willow tree. She wanted it because of Harry Potter’s “Womping Willow” not because willows are my very, very favorite trees. </div><div><br></div><div>This tree grew. And grew. Flourished. Truly flourished. We would sing concerts to the sister tree during the summers. </div><div><br></div><div>We adorned Her with fairy lights that Libby loved. Strand after strand after strand. Until someone cut several of the light strands, it was a gift to drive home after school and Libby would be giggly over all the fairies living in her tree. </div><div><br></div><div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_3332_9bcd_8dfa_9216" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/5a2Z3eyyjqvxeFF8X1RvIIKRsmGRy7d3cjaZDsy2N3PUNvb8XSvNFx6K5dP1OCte3KA" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br>So, we built a fence to protect the tree and the fairies. The willow with the fence. </div></div><div><img id="id_e718_a208_f4a9_cf0a" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/au1_l_iSp5GqP8bN5e1mxeGrbgw3sPLWOTmmFcDdQ95xv3C0w2t1KO1o9zcQ9aR2sbY" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br>In the spring of 2021, I noticed that her tree was not leafing the way it had in the past. I refused to talk about the decline of Libby’s tree with Rachael. Refused. I didn’t know why then. </div><div>Now I know that the tree was telling me what my heart couldn’t handle. That damn tree was still hanging on this fall with only a few branches clinging with any leaves to offer to the fall. </div><div><br></div><div>Just like her tree, Liberty is stubbornly hanging on. Today, January 28, is the tenth day that Libby has refused food and water. Her beautiful heart has been at race pace for days now. She is beyond tiny. She is no longer responding most of the time. Her body is done- her heart isn’t. </div><div>She’s <b>still</b> pushing against the wind. </div><div><a href="https://music.apple.com/us/album/against-the-wind/1440879556?i=1440880091">https://music.apple.com/us/album/against-the-wind/1440879556?i=1440880091</a></div><div><br></div><div>We’ve told her it’s okay. We will be okay. Blessedly, so many have come to tell her she can go. Yet, she’s holding steady. Her Grandma Geva and Papa are waiting. Damn these stubborn genes. </div><div><img id="id_ac53_55ca_5d28_5ae1" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/1qzbrD4U22nicHIBlLuv5S3OdQpqClGX76M0pLzL2DkDjQoIw4D9UkngON4LVgdp0_0" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></div><div>This is terrible. Grateful for the time. For me, this level of decline has helped me reconcile letting her go. She has earned her Liberty ten fold. </div><div><br></div>Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-51528330712497925012022-01-22T17:29:00.001-08:002022-01-22T18:28:06.509-08:00In God’s Time and Libby’s StubbornessGoing through this hospice process with Liberty is beautiful and yet terribly hard. It’s a lovely chance to cover her in love, and yet, it’s hard. Watching her body decline is terribly sad. But I prayed Libby into this world, and I will continue praying her out of it. <div><img id="id_ab47_914e_424a_b6b" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/CrI_6sNYtLP4Aw-xsI0DcP06e0QZw8WGVakZ3boYYAvWOL-zx3cB8eRXd2CwfQ2qP0U" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br>We met with our clergy last weekend got her Celebration of Life and Home going planned. So grateful to have that mostly done. <br><br></div><div><br></div><div>We wanted to be in school long enough to get our students back into the groove of the day to day schedule. I found myself anxious to get to school and anxious to hurry and get home. While at school I cherished the time with my students and yet, wanted lots of updates on Libby. My heart was stretched to want to be with both. </div><div><br></div><div>Here’s one of Libby’s favorite songs to lighten this update: <a href="https://music.apple.com/us/album/piano-man/158815463?i=158815547">https://music.apple.com/us/album/piano-man/158815463?i=158815547</a></div><div><br></div><div>This week several things fell into place: teacher volunteers to cover recycling, Care Closet and Snack Shak for our campus and the right people to cover my classes. (Cannot tell you how much I’ve worried about making sure the people who need the food get it while I’m out. It’s going to be okay.)</div><div><br></div><div>Every day for the last two weeks she has changed in some small manner. As of Wednesday, the 19th, Libby is refusing food. She is also declining almost all liquids. Thursday she would not even take her crushed pills for me. (I was a bit dumbfounded. She refused anything from me! The nerve…) </div><div><br></div><div>For the last three days, she is no longer taking her meds five times a day. She is getting her seizure med and a small</div><div>Relaxant. That’s all. My days are completely off. That five time a day schedule has been engrained in me for over 13 years. I’ll need to get retrained. </div><div><br></div><div>I believe she has had her final shower as I’ll move to giving her bed baths. So many of the Caregiving activities, like showering and shaving, are more to make me feel comforted and needed, not because it’s vital for Libby. I can let some of that go. </div><div><br></div><div>I know this is part is all part of the Hospice process. It is not about our typed out timeline or our expectations. It’s really between God and Libby. I can envision the back and forth arbitration happening. Libby saying, “I’m not ready” and God replying, “you can have a wolf at your side every day…”. Or “I’m ready” and God responds, “not yet. It isn’t time.” Either way, I know there’s some push and pull going on. I mean- it’s Liberty. </div><div><br></div><div>Liberty is the epitome of STUBBORN which I say with a smile. It’s partly her stubbornness that has kept her here with us for so long. Now she is in negotiations and whoever “wins” won’t really matter. We will love her out as fiercely as we have fought for her. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_8d33_5c5b_1251_9d29" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/OEsoAl1T3jBDgneN-qT4F6I2z9VBpcwZbHycT_B-yelir7bKHQZWwddsDcvz_BFTqUE" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br>Starting Monday we are home with Libby. I have very few days to take, but I’m not going to concentrate on that aspect. Right now I am right where I need to be. Being with her is vitally important right now. </div><div><br></div><div>Thank you all for your ongoing love and support. </div><div><br></div>Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-88603048653449926472022-01-02T09:20:00.007-08:002022-01-02T15:11:50.967-08:00Docile and Compliant<p> We have been blessed with several very lovely holiday get-togethers. Libby loves to have her people with her. She is such a rock star. </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhNdN22hWhompTZqD9v4BM3MKbrJkM3S_wiVkHjWmD2HnNuM1Qvh6fnB-oM3viXC8n84joD3TnyHZ46YayhwrcMWPxUB4lwtiwpVD07zdsaEF_c_J9koc8CIXUH-XQxL1sE2bJla2FJSQKxfteGo_wkqpbLmv0cT65WTDjQombwRXnHHge7ySYWO6A=s640" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhNdN22hWhompTZqD9v4BM3MKbrJkM3S_wiVkHjWmD2HnNuM1Qvh6fnB-oM3viXC8n84joD3TnyHZ46YayhwrcMWPxUB4lwtiwpVD07zdsaEF_c_J9koc8CIXUH-XQxL1sE2bJla2FJSQKxfteGo_wkqpbLmv0cT65WTDjQombwRXnHHge7ySYWO6A=w320-h315" width="320" id="id_7bc1_3694_5a13_aeef" style="width: 320px; height: auto;"></a></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p>Sharing some raw realness. I don't know if there is a step-by-step guide on how to do this. Surely there is a section in the parental learning manual titled, "How to completely lose your shit while your child dies" or, "How to gracefully let your child go." These are my current steps in no order. </p><p>1. Be angry. Be very pissed. Tattoo guilt on your face. Ask all the whys. Wear righteous indignation like the emperor's cloak.</p><p><br></p><p><br></p><p>2. Try to handle the anger by doing online research and then regret it immediately.</p><p>3. Be envious of other parents who have healthy children. Why is life so damn hard?</p><p>4. Also, be envious of those who have successfully raised their children and are empty nesters. </p><p>5. Immediately feel guilty for #4. Try on grace for a long moment. </p><p>6. Doubt everything you've done as a daughter, mother, wife, friend, and human. </p><p>7. Blame the illness on everything from the Purple Tella Tubby to Crop Circles to passing a curse on genetically. </p><p>8. Try to race ahead of the typhoon of grief, make a list, and then feel like you're drowning; dream repeatedly of water.</p><p>9. Lose the list, or throw it away because you can't hold a thought in your head and suddenly realize it doesn't matter.</p><p>10. Ask "How much time do we have?" Register the look from the Hospice Team and not ask again because who really knows.</p><p>11. Walk into three rooms and not remember why I went to any of them, or I'll Pick up an old toy and carry it around the house for no reason. Did I start the load of laundry? Try to give her juice again? Are the bed room doors closed?</p><p>12. Get my shit together and try to work on school stuff. </p><p>13. Regret spending any time not focused on my child. Remember to trust in faith.</p><p>14. Escape from the caregiving because you cannot breathe and then regret not being there. </p><p>15. Look online for support groups, support articles, anything to remind you that you are not alone. Anything that shows that other Mommas have survived this. </p><p>16 Read articles about grief and anger and caregiver burnout.</p><p>17. Start another conversation about the future plans for your kid and swallow those words like you've been starving. </p><p>18. Get more sad than angry. Go silent.</p><p>19. Discover that you have worn your daughter's old bra all day and never noticed it- just felt vaguely uncomfortable. Tell her about it and get a blesssed giggle.</p><p>20. Constantly look for any signs of the ugly insidious approach of her passing, and beat myself up when I think I have missed something. </p><p>21. Ask how I am supposed to survive this. Is that the expectation? Just need the rules.</p><p>22. Try to hold on to faith and sunlight. </p><p>23. More rambling crap to incoherently follow...</p><p>Libby's body is moving through the stages as her body gets smaller and smaller. She still gives us giggles and some smiles, which I am ever grateful for. She is spending more time staring blankly; I think she is listening to KT Oslin, Johnny Cash, and now Betty White. </p><p>We have the Hospice bed now which is keeping her much more comfortable through the days in the front room. I've been surrounding her with her pack of babies. This gives me solace.</p><p> I need to change Libby's name to Docile or Compliant. She is refusing to eat or drink very much. I am a Southern Momma who wants to feed EVERYONE, but not this kid. She is 100% Liberty. She is not able to stand on stiffened spastic legs to help us transfer her from chair to bed and bed to chair. Her legs are now not responding. Still spastic, just not load-bearing. The slow and steady decline is no party and isn't for the weak of heart. But here we are. As for now, she is still herself and I pray she knows how loved she is. </p><p>Liberty and all of her beautiful stubbornness- “Broken Horses” <a href="https://music.apple.com/us/album/broken-horses/1577159552?i=1577159680">https://music.apple.com/us/album/broken-horses/1577159552?i=1577159680</a> </p><p>Liberty turns 25 next week. Trying to plan a celebration that won't wear her out and can keep everyone safe isn't easy. I do know that I'll be asking for small hygiene products for our <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-lQhYXV1Mkz5kwTAN34PSfyQd6d7ZuecTHJzcJcg8RY/edit?usp=sharing">Care Closet</a> and/or monetary <a href="https://www.sp4k.org/make-a-donation">Snack Shak</a> donations. Will continue to give and serve as we can. Grateful to be able to be ugly honest. <a href="https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1GpuUXVt_QB7EpLX3XNpOowlZ03jko2UcMY3OQ-sNqcY/edit?usp=sharing">Here is the announcement</a> We will ask for safe considerations of our girl.</p><p>Thank you for your thoughts and prayers. </p><p><br></p>Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-37548536223888073322021-12-11T19:04:00.006-08:002021-12-12T10:46:32.833-08:00Ugly Tuesday<p> I am not a fan of Tuesdays. Just not a fan. And I believe that Tuesday doesn't care for me either. There is a karmic list somewhere that entails all of the ugly Tuesdays I've endured. Sometimes it's a litany of little things. Other days, it's one big thing that shifts my heart from a waltz to a mosh pit. This week, the Tuesday shifted me from complacent and determined to sobbing on the phone to our Hospice social worker. </p><p>I've been racing home every day because our gracious caretaker is staying past her predetermined time until I can get home. Until Grandma Linda gets better, there's no one who can stay with Libby until I get home. Tuesday is usually shower day. Showering Liberty is generally a time fraught with little dangers. Because I have slipped a few times barefoot, I have special shoes for showering and Libby pooping; I call them my shower shoes. Just getting her into and out of the shower area is dangerous. Keeping her safely on her shower chair is dangerous. Not getting her body dried off quickly and completely is dangerous. Holding her on her potty chair so that we can change the dressing on her feeding tube, get deodorant, bra and t-shirt on is dangerous. On alternating days, forcing a poop while on the potty chair is dangerous. This involves a blessed suppository before we get into the shower- keep that in mind. </p><p>This Tuesday was a double-up day: shower and potty. </p><p>This Tuesday, Liberty was stiff- very stiff. If she wasn't smelling so icky, I would have postponed the shower due to this stiffness. (I do bed wipe-downs between showers.) We made it through the shower. Got dried off. Got her onto the potty. Got her deo, bra, and shirt on. ((Deep breath)) Went to cut the dressing and tape off of Libby's feeding tube and the whole damn tube popped out. This happened simultaneously as Rachael was wheeling Grandma Linda into our house. </p><p>I tried to push that tube back in. I folded that little anchor balloon and tried to save the tube. Keeping the feeding tube has been so important. This is how we have been getting the liquid meds and tinctures into Libby. This is how I have been getting more liquids into Libby. This is how we have been able to give her the much-needed high caloric formulas. </p><p>In my mind, I politely asked for Rachael to join us in the bathroom. I was also calling our Hospice nurse who was in an intake and didn't answer. I called the Hospice Social Worker which is when I broke down. I knew that we would not be replacing this most vital tube. It has been a lifesaver for us. Some days Libby swallows liquids very well and other days she chokes. That tube has been a blessing. Now it is gone. I ugly sobbed on the phone while trying to dress the quickly closing hole in her belly. This whole time, Libby is looking at me so weirdly as she doesn't really know what is going on, except that she needs to poop NOW. This dual-purpose bathroom visit is carefully timed. Very carefully timed. </p><p>By the time I got off the phone, it was DEFCON level three for Liberty's potty time. So my shower shoes, old running shoes, became truly SHIT SHOES. </p><p>Good thing we are washable. R.I.P Tummy Tubaca</p><p>We made a few more calls and discussed for the next few hours and decided that we would not be replacing that tube. I believe her body rejected that damn tube and spit it out. Libby has been pulling and fussing with it. Sometimes she has even grabbed at my hands while feeding her through it. I pray we can continue to add additional calories without the tube. So far, we've been doing good with the additional little feeds throughout the day. </p><p>This Tuesday literally shit on me and metaphorically on Libby. <a href="https://youtu.be/BfnjX88Va4Y">Little laugh before we continue</a></p><p>Now on another battlefront, it is looking like Liberty's baclofen pump will be refilled next week. Her pump refills have been every six months at Cook's Children's in Ft. Worth. That may be too far for Libby to make it in a car. Then I thought, okay, we can switch to pills. It's a terrible transition from pump meds to pills. There is the element of the ugly detox as well: big difference between meds through your whole system than meds through your spinal fluid. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgA1TSCCYbV3PzU8SDChED-RaYfWpCcZdLauY-k7vqrRq13GQT2EbLgFTpEs89LqpiM5uU4blRZsh-q5mxUwdW_jkLkxfyf35ZJsKmD__J6J3OnkttJ6H7Xkfsr4iWergKAq6-BHEqVt2hSGdrYIXWNuAbjTq-khjZjwz47kw2uwuueUwYo0NtR8SA=s640" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgA1TSCCYbV3PzU8SDChED-RaYfWpCcZdLauY-k7vqrRq13GQT2EbLgFTpEs89LqpiM5uU4blRZsh-q5mxUwdW_jkLkxfyf35ZJsKmD__J6J3OnkttJ6H7Xkfsr4iWergKAq6-BHEqVt2hSGdrYIXWNuAbjTq-khjZjwz47kw2uwuueUwYo0NtR8SA=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Then there is the cost. We have an appointment here in Amarillo on the 15th, but the funding is an issue. We are talking several thousand dollars. It is magical what a call from our BELOVED Dr. Hottie, Dr. Acosta, and our Hospice Care team can cure. That is how we got the appointment on the 15th. </p><p>Praying for this appointment to go through. Wait, I almost forgot the kicker- her pump has an internal alarm. This will start beeping on Wednesday. That's right, her belly will be beeping at us. </p><p>I cannot express the amount of disparity in my emotions. These last few days of this semester are so important and I will be grateful when we finish this semester just as I have been blessed to get to school most days. Hoping for the very best non-Tuesday days ahead. </p><p><a href=" https://youtu.be/n7-VIRDmdGY" target="_blank">Whatever is going on, you are enough.</a></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-59246630314481491562021-12-05T12:21:00.001-08:002021-12-05T12:30:34.952-08:00Flying<div><br></div>Sunday afternoons we try to watch something that we all enjoy. This Sunday we stumbled upon the series on National Geographic, “Dr. Oakley”. She’s a veterinarian in the Yukon. At the end of one episode Dr. Oakley has rehabilitated two eaglets who each had a complex fracture in a wing. They were born normal, but some trauma had taken their very important ability to fly. Weeks of rehab and healing and they were ready to be released. <div><br></div><div>“We started with two young birds that were quite broken and now they’re being released. Now they can fly.” </div><div><br></div><div>Seeing those eaglets fly off after weeks of healing, reminded me of Libby. She was once whole and has spent over half of her life with a body that has become progressively more dysfunctional. </div><div><br></div><div>Sadly our medical interventions have not healed Libby, but they have helped to keep her happy and comfortable. Since earthly healing has not come, she regain her wings through other worldly powers. </div><div>One day, she too will be healed and fly away. She will fly again because our God will remind her how. </div><div><br></div><div><a href="https://music.apple.com/us/album/ill-fly-away/269440847?i=269441201">https://music.apple.com/us/album/ill-fly-away/269440847?i=269441201</a></div><div><br></div>Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-36644040549498523332021-11-15T16:58:00.001-08:002021-11-30T16:56:12.551-08:00The VeilI dream. I don’t know that I’ve ever dreamt this much, or maybe I am just remembering them more. Or I just want to remember. <div><br></div><div> I’ve continued to sleep with Libby, probably as much for me as it is for her. Some nights we sleep hard straight through. Other nights she moves and kicks and fidgets all night long. It’s like trying to sleep with someone break dancing; that’s an antiquated reference. It’s taking more and more to knock us both out.<div><div><div><br></div><div>I had one lovely dream of Libby in her fragile little body of today, except her body is working. She is dancing. Now she has always been a waltz in a world of two-steppers. She is dancing in her cowboy boots. She is dancing to a rhythm no one else could ever hear. Happily stomping in her own way doing her “happy feet” moves that are completely her own. </div><div><br></div><div>She has this authentically perfect way of ignoring the rest of the world and just dancing. The only thing in this dance is that she is confused. She’s looking at me and asking “what’s happening?” More Liberty dancing then “Mom what’s changing?” Then she was moving those fast little feet again, and I woke up talking nonsense out loud with wet cheeks. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_8077_118e_e163_7968" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/kjxN1Ikk7Y-34KPnWlNAMLRaybtml19a3W7s5860YF594QcvGphuYI-1IE9Z1acmMjk" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></div><div>Three Saturdays ago , Libby giggled throughout the night. Seriously- giggling. The kind of happy, care free little girl giggling that is rare. The kind of uncontrollable bubbly giggling that cannot be contained. She was giggling and then would clearly say, “yea” several times. She was even shaking the bed. She giggled through the night and into mid-morning. </div></div><div><br></div><div>I asked Libby what was so funny and she’d get quiet and go on sleeping. She was sleep laughing. </div><div><br></div><div>It was so random that it was both deliciously creepy and sweet. Luckily, Rachael heard it as well. Later that evening, we were telling Grandma Linda about our “Giggler”. I asked Libby what she was laughing at- more giggles. Then I asked her WHO she was laughing at. She got serious. I went down the list of names: Sister, Jasmin, Xavier, Rachael, Betherty, Uncle David, and Jennifer, to no response. I had a silly hunch, so I asked if Grandpa Terry was telling her his corny jokes and she said “yes” in the most clear voice. And she giggled some more. </div><div> </div><div>Don’t know about many things, nor do I understand many things, but I know the love we share in this life bridges to reach the other side. </div><div>It makes my heart smile to think of Terry whispering his goofy “Dad” jokes to Libby. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_9e28_e0ff_5cc8_898f" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/yDnYsn4VrzGJksAG2W99nVJhLsHAhz0zWe0_ETOnx7sLCG8_IylNyc79ntofLq61qGU" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></div><div><br></div><div>What a gift. My friends this is hard, heart breaking shit, but she continues to bless us with glimpses across the veil. Some days I feel as if I will suffocate from the weight of it. Then she giggles or tries to reach out for me. And I take a breath and keep going. </div><div><br></div><div>Thank you for reading and supporting us. We are blessed. </div></div></div>Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-27874575433298237052021-10-20T14:10:00.008-07:002021-12-06T12:46:13.543-08:00The Mostly Short Version of the 12 Year Saga<p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"> This is not my story; this is Liberty's story. I am just cataloging her journey. It used to feel like a bite was being taken out of me every time I told her story. Now, it is a review process that allows me the chance to remember and remind myself of how far we have come. </span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-397a4c4b-7fff-f929-4716-26d8e9556876">(I took three older posts and added the last few years. I apologize if there are still repetitions.)</span><div><span><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://music.apple.com/us/album/tiny-dancer/1440643462?i=1440643464">https://music.apple.com/us/album/tiny-dancer/1440643462?i=1440643464</a></div><div><span><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Libby was born on her due date perfectly normal on <b>January 9, 1997</b>, in Ruidoso. Her sister, Mariah, was my birthing coach. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She met every cognitive and physical measure early including crawling out of her crib at 9 months. She was so adventurous that she could have been hurt many times. Libby loved to climb and hide. She would climb up anything she could, including bookcases, weight racks, and later tops of cars and trees. She earned the nickname "Eagle Eye" as she is able to see things others miss. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If there was a way to push the boundary, she would find it. She is the personification of her name in every way. She didn't care about rules and hated being told to speak to people on command, and Lord help you if you wanted her to hug someone. Liberty didn't perform on command. Now, let her listen to a song once or twice and she would memorize it. By four I could challenge her to see if she could memorize a song faster than me. I would begin a song lyric and she would finish it. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We are outside people. We camped, hiked, worked in Palo Duro Canyon, and Geo-cached everywhere we could. It was no big deal for us to play in the water in the canyon or return from hiking, and then check each other for bites. It's awkward, but it is what you do, especially when the grasses are taller than your kids. This is the Texas Panhandle and if the heat and cold don't kill you, then there are plenty of things that'll bite you. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In <b>5th grade</b>, Libby was Commended in her Reading. She even earned a phone call home from her elementary librarian with questions as to whether or not Libby needed to read Janet Evanovich and <i>Lord of the Rings </i>instead of her AR books. She<i> </i>was rocking her trumpeting skills in band, singing in front of everyone almost every week at church, and working on her basketball skills. The math and physical coordination genes did miss this kid. Math and coordination did not come naturally. Socially, she preferred animals to people and would rather play than abide by any girly stuff. She is our little wolf and LOVES dinosaurs. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The night we returned from our last big camping trip in <b>July 2007</b>, where we had been to Southern Utah and Libby had what we believe was a massive seizure. Mariah woke us up and saw Libby mid-seize on the top bunk. This changed everything. We headed to the nearest hospital by ambulance and our testing trials began. Even though there was blood taken, there was little analysis and we were only given the advice to get her seen by someone who deals with seizures. We brought up several times the long camping trip and the land, lakes, and streams we had been swimming, fishing, and hiking in. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The next morning we were sitting in our pediatrician's office and were then sent with referrals to get the EEG and EKG to see if there was anything neurologically wrong. Over the next year, Libby had visited hospitals in Amarillo and Lubbock had three more seizures, many EKG and EEG's, MRI's, sleep studies, and lots of blood work. Nothing. Everything came back normal. We carried paperwork that stated she had an Undiagnosed Seizure disorder. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In <b>November of 2007</b>, Libby's Grandpa, Terry Collins left us. She didn't cry or sing for months. She stopped drawing and writing her stories. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The next year, <b>2008-2009</b>, 6th grade seemed fairly normal. Her big sister, Mariah, was a senior and the world was changing, so normal may be the wrong term. Looking back there were many signs that something was affecting Liberty neurologically. You don't know what you don't know. Her speech showed some weirdness, where she would drop off parts of words. Interestingly, her singing remained outstanding. Her ability to play her trumpet at the high level she had before remained static, except for sometimes she showed an inability to sustain the breath needed. Her handwriting got weird, really weird. But this is the kid who invented her own writing that was only to be read by animals with paws when she was three or four, so weird handwriting- eh. She started sneaking spoons to school in her lunch box instead of forks. She also started using bendy straws, we call them "sick straws" as well. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Her shirts had some weird stains and I would find them hidden in weird places. She tried to shave her legs for the first time and called me crying because she had cut her leg, also not unusual. Now, when she decided to use a razor to trim her eyebrow and called me with a thug-looking brow into the bathroom, I took the razor away from the kid who was starting to shake- alot. Once we made it through Mariah's graduation and summer hit, we got Libby into singing lessons. We did elocution practice at home, as well as some handwriting review. We spent that summer building up Libby's self-esteem. (I thought she was acting out because of the loss of her Grandpa and her sister graduating.)</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I noticed a tremor in her hands and started watching her blood sugars and eating patterns. Diabetes does run in my family. I noticed that she spilled food a lot and had trouble drinking unless she used a straw. She had probably been having hand tremors for a while and had hidden it. I didn't catch it. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In <b>July 2009</b>, she started her menstrual cycle. In August she passed her yearly Pediatric check-up and we were reminded to keep an eye on her emotions as she may be depressed and reacting to Mariah's graduating and the many other changes. She also passed her athletic physical to play basketball and tennis. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We went on a regular hike, a long hot hike, and I basically had to carry Libby back. She said her left leg hurt and didn't feel right. I thought she was being a wolf princess butt and was claiming fatigue. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">7th grade started and her teachers began contacting us about changes they were noticing in Libby. She was referred to a local psychiatrist. I made an appointment for the middle of October to check in with our Pediatrician. The school's diagnostician did some cognitive tests and called me on October 2, 2009, my 39th birthday. She said that she thought that what was going on with Libby was biological and that she thought something was wrong. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">By the end of the first six weeks of her 7th-grade year, 2009-2010, Libby was falling a lot, her left arm was curling in whenever she run, she couldn't get a spoon to her mouth, she couldn't rinse out her hair, her handwriting was illegible, her speech was disintegrating and she collapsed one day on the way home from school. An ambulance brought her to the nearest clinic, her Pediatrician's clinic, and all tests showed nothing. She must be very tired. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We saw our regular doctor and then more tests at the hospital in Amarillo, then on to Lubbock. The Neurologist was in Lubbock, the same one that we had seen for the seizures. We were referred to Cook Children's in Ft. Worth. On Rachael's birthday, November 12th, we arrived on a Thursday evening in November, by now we are helping her shower, dress, and feed herself. That Friday, the first doctor we saw referred us to another and ordered tests. We were to go home, pack, and return on Monday prepared for a long stay. </span></p><div><span>We spent the weekend putting up our Christmas decorations almost as if we had the recognition that the return visit to Cooks would be a more extensive stay. We also had Mariah come home so we could talk to her and prepare her. For what, we didn't know. From Rachael: I can vividly remember being up on the roof of the house with Mariah hanging Christmas lights and talking to her about the very real possibilities of where we might be headed with Liberty and what a diagnosis could bring our way. I didn't even know and now I was having to prepare Mariah that her sister might never be the same again. It wasn't the same jolly time we'd had in previous years putting up lights with Christmas songs playing in the background. </span></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We were in the hospital for 14 days. During that time every sort of test you can imagine was run. At first, they thought she had a very progressive form of early-onset Multiple Sclerosis, or Huntington's, or a form of Palsy, or maybe she had gone through multiple strokes, or ALS, Wilson's, Meningitis, HIV, and more that we cannot even remember. Libby had blood tests, EKG, EEG, Lumbar puncture, Liver biopsy, skin biopsies, 24-hour urine catch, more blood tests, and an MRI with and without resolution.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The MRI showed an area in her right frontal lobe the size of a quarter that had undergone either atrophy or necrosis. Her brain was also smaller than it should be. Basically, that portion was dead and not working. This area had been missed by all the other MRI machines she had been in. The one at Cook Children's had more power or resolution. What our Neuro doctor, Dr. Hottie said, is that something had probably been killing that part of her brain for a long time and that she had slowly been losing her fine and major motor skills for some time. It had finally reached a critical mass and that is why it seemed like she had fallen apart all at once. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Her Lumbar puncture showed something, a possible form of Encephalitis. He gathered a crew of specialists, including a Geneticist, who did all of the background testing possible. Down to requesting the chemical results from our water system here at home in Happy. They also had Carbon Dioxide detectors placed in our house just to make sure. We asked again if she could have caught something during our outdoor exploits. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We were told at a staffing meeting, think of the TV show "House", to start thinking about whether we wanted quality or quantity of life for Libby. <i>We chose quality that day. We still choose quality.</i> We were released on <b>Thanksgiving Day, 2009</b>, with two more referrals back home, therapy referrals, a prescription for a Parkinson's medication, Sinemet, and follow-up appointments at Cook Children's. We were told to get her baptized and prepare our family, at the rate her degeneration was progressing </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">we didn't have much time</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After we returned, the first appointment was a basic eye appointment for further testing for Wilson's or other genetic abnormalities. Christmas happened. New Year happened. We were in shock and grateful to be home. My little wolf cub doesn't do well in captivity. On <b>January 2</b>, we saw an Ophthalmologist. After going through the whole background, he performed his regular eye exams and asked if she had been tested for Lyme disease. He ordered blood tests, didn't know eye doctors could do that, for Cat Scratch Fever, Lyme, and Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">January 10, 2010,</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> the results came back positive for Lyme through the ELISA Lyme test. I called our doc at Cook Children's and left a message about the results. He called back and said this could have been caused by Lyme. Our local Pediatric doc and Dr. Hottie agreed to a two-week course of antibiotics to cure her of Lyme. That is what the American Medical Association, AMA, recommends. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She wasn't cured. We began researching immediately and found that there are cases worldwide of terrible unexplained illnesses that have been traced back to Lyme. We also learned of governments worldwide not treating Chronic or long-term Lyme. We also learned that there should have been a bulls-eye rash followed by flu-like symptoms. Libby never had a rash. When camping, we showered in twos. After hiking we checked each other. We learned that many, many cases of Lyme go unnoticed because there is no rash and no flu-like symptoms. We also learned that Lyme was rare in our area. We also learned that many people die because Lyme likes to attack hearts. Libby's heart is still good. Her neurological state has been decimated. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We have continued to get our main treatments and testing done in Ft. Worth. Each time there may be a new specialist to meet, different tests to be done, new meds to try, something. In 2012, we met with a Pediatric Rheumatologist and an Immunologist. They ordered a PIC line and a six-week protocol of heavy-duty antibiotics since that was then what the American Medical Association recommended for tougher cases of Lyme. She wasn't cured. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>She has never tested positive for anything else</b>. Most gratefully she has not had any other seizures until recently. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We have had our genes mapped and there is nothing genetically wrong with her. She has been diagnosed with Secondary Parkinson's, Spasticity, Ataxia, Speech Apraxia, and my least favorite, Dystonia. On medical paperwork, she has Arthropod-Borne Encephalitis. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She has had two sets of AFO leg braces, lots of hand braces, and a neck brace. She has had three official wheelchairs. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She takes Sinemet, Baclofen, and Clonazepam. What started as a turned in left hand, has traveled to her left leg, then foot, then right hand, then right leg, the right foot, and her neck. Parkinson's has given us an additional gift with swallowing issues that are made worse by the Botox that loosens up the rest of her body.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>In 2015</b>-Libby's left foot had reached 90% Achilles contracture and she had bi-lateral tendon release. We believed after recovery we would work on walking more. That didn't help much as her body fought back with a vengeance. </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Liberty graduated from high school where she was active in art, choir, and community service. She was voted Caprock <b>Prom Queen in 2015.</b> </span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-d7d925ee-7fff-fc70-cac1-b44101a87d16"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the summer of 2015, we completed the required Department of Aging and Rehabilitative services Neuro-Cognitive testing. They had to prove whether or not she was employable in order to provide services. We had to go through DARS to help get services for Libby and college. DARS was the gatekeeper to many services for Libby. We really still didn't know how life after high school will look for her, but we knew that she will have a life. </span><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;"><b><br /></b></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;"><b>In July 2015- </b></span></span><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><b style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deep Brain Stimulators</b><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> were inserted that we charged about every other day.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;">She has been on a five pill-a-day schedule for years; her main one is the Parkinson’s drug. She had a baclofen pump inserted into her abdomen as of last <b>Thanksgiving 2016.</b></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>In 2018, s</b>he now had the neurological and muscular diagnosis of Parkinson’s, Bladder and Sphincter Dyssynergia, dystonia, spasticity, ataxia, and speech apraxia. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">We’ve tried lots of things including physical and occupational therapy, clean eating, weighted blanket, and even blessed water. Libby’s body continued to stiffen and struggle. </span><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">We fought her spasticity with many, many Botox injections until they stopped working in 2019. We have gone through four different therapy places. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>In November 2019, </b>we pursued getting Liberty.<b> </b></span><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">She has been dropping weight for the last three years. We went through three different procedures to get the feeding tube placed. Because of the way her body twisted, her stomach had lodged itself partly under her rib cage and could not be inserted easily. This was the last time she was placed under anesthesia for a procedure. </span></span></span><div><span><span><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our Neuro, Dr. Hottie, couldn't give us a prognosis or any kind of timeline. He told us that we have been living on “bonus time” for a while. She was outside of any medical normalcy. As we talked about the progression of her diseases he reminded us that these last years are beyond what he could have predicted. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b>In March 2020,</b> we went into COViD lockdown. Libby was home with us throughout that spring and summer. When we went back to our classrooms, she stayed safe due to her careful caregivers. Her body continually declined: her stiffening was ever-present. We have increased her clonazepam to offer some relief. Her ability to speak and answer basic questions dwindled away. Her weight continued to drop. </p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b>In May of 2021, </b>Libby's Parkinson bite caught her index finger in her mouth and broke the skin. She bit her finger so very hard. She has worn a specially ordered hand mitten since then. (Now I believe she had a seizure and her jaw locked down.)</p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">As we prepared to finish out the school year, Libby began crying almost every night. By the end of the month, she is crying every evening: uncontrollable and inconsolable. This continued throughout the summer. Liberty's period has stopped. </p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">In <b>June</b> we were asking her local doctor for guidance. In July, we knew she was Sundowning. This is not the quality of life we have focussed on. We began making plans for Libby to stay at home with caretakers when we started school. Getting her in and out of the cars and into wheelchairs and out take a toll on her very little body. </p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">In <b>August</b> we went to get her baclofen pump refilled at Cook's. The next day we got her feeding tube replaced in Amarillo. </p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"> On <b>August 4th </b>Libby had a full seizure. One of the few things that I have pleaded with God about is seizures. They are terrifying. She has had several more since then. We are now of Keppra to keep the seizures at bay. </p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">On <b>August 19</b>, we began receiving Palliative Care. This is a blessing. It is a true gift to have support for the caretakers. </p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">On <b>October 11</b>, we signed Liberty in the Hospice Care program. She needs more and more eyes on her. More support. She is changing incrementally and I don't want to miss it. Having this wonderful program in place has given me some peace. We want her to be calm and happy as long as possible, but most of all I want her to be HER. Some days it doesn't seem like she is my Libby: my wolf girl. Then the next day she will smile and giggle and it's like the sun shines again. </p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><a href="https://music.apple.com/us/album/grit-and-grace/1527828770?i=1527828773">https://music.apple.com/us/album/grit-and-grace/1527828770?i=1527828773</a></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">School remains my safe place. We have wonderful classes and could not be more blessed by our campuses and our peers. Each day I am ready to be on campus and then want to race home as soon as I can. This is hard. Loving her through this is hard. And it is beautiful. </p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></p></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Every day we are blessed. This continues to be our bonus time with her. </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">This is not my story to tell, this is hers. We continue to learn Liberty. </span></p><div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You are loved. </span></div></span></div></div>Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1641154683368051.post-70361063204588206122021-09-21T18:10:00.001-07:002021-09-22T11:08:28.239-07:00“I know how this story ends”<p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-f063156d-7fff-e558-613e-a7415685380d" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font size="4">Happy Fall!</font></span></p><font size="4"><div><font size="4"><br></font></div>If possible, start with this song: </font><a href="https://music.apple.com/us/album/his-eye-is-on-the-sparrow/545769471?i=545769542">https://music.apple.com/us/album/his-eye-is-on-the-sparrow/545769471?i=545769542</a><font size="4"><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"></font><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font size="4">It has now been a month for our mighty little one to be on Palliative Care, and what a month it’s been. It is also the first of a new school year. Our new caretaker is doing a great job taking care of of Libby in our home. (It’s been a transition for me being that far away from Libby, but she has been comfortable in her own space. </font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font size="4"><br></font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><font size="4"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We have had the chance for many of our loved ones to come and spend some time with Liberty. </span><span style="font-family: Arial; white-space: pre-wrap;">It makes my heart smile. Forever grateful for all the people who share their love with her. </span></font></p><font size="4"><img id="id_6321_c822_3b0d_b684" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/zHPakPoyJkLp34mdxcwO2NRgHPEfX0cpaSOCAnJ2PIfRHC_Rej6Cp61Ax8vRRAmM0Z4" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br>At Happy Days</font><div><font size="4"><img id="id_1a34_9f3f_987e_3b3e" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/NhI-Fe6paeq2qVaIaiot-K0hKLqY4QEuNHJ8vITnQixZaGyPSWMWGIceviPEpPeUf8g" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br>And two of our bonus daughters...<img id="id_7458_a909_fd7b_f92b" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/aLaLf9cBr8w_a76_OjOkLboTSjKM-9WtPdpbO8YSlmRwxOJDGKUhaHqgB4Arwta0mcE" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br>Libby had just been smiling. </font></div><div><font size="4"><img id="id_b622_6976_98d_3631" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/zMXZ7gvxYmuRH4rGLfOffZU3ZysJd-Zv-HetkjFCA_CGNOy11cYYceQiAQG-72Ggm8I" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br>And she made it about 15:00 at the Blank Spaces Art Exhibit at our Snack Shak warehouse before she started crying and whimpering. </font></div><div><font size="4"><img id="id_402_7728_2f97_a878" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/3x69uinSbYAUCiCoDku4gYp0hfhgTGVGOy3bqHcfoYQhi_p7BC-obxB7axfL7C4daio" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br>Her face says it. She was done so soon. <br><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"></font><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font size="4">I have been sleeping with Libby for quite awhile. Sometimes it’s like dozing on a very stiff and fidgety roller coaster. </font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><font size="4"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img id="id_e749_4c16_9c6f_1aa6" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/0oXd96QYNrhrEttxX3bvePBjkuD-TG1LT_Ysf36tx_ECZk4ad1EP7igkywwgYmMzrJA" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br></span>Kittie has been her baby of choice for the last few months. </font></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><font size="4"><br></font></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><font size="4"><br></font></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font size="4">About a month ago and after a day where my heart was weighed down, I was given the most beautiful dream. The kind of dream that you try so hard to get back to when you are pulled away to consciousness. </font></span></p><font size="4"><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"></font><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font size="4">It was just as my alarm was going off that I saw Terry, Rachael’s father, walking with my Grandmother. Now, you have to know that Terry is Rachael’s father, but to me he was my Dad as well. He taught me that I could safely love and trust a man. He was and is one of the very best men I have ever known. </font></span></p><font size="4"><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"></font><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font size="4">And, of course, my Grandmother Geneva, is the greatest influence in my life. I am here because she told me I was worthy. I am here because she pushed and supported me, then taught me how to weather the storms. I am here today because she loved me so fiercely that I stand tall when I really want to curl into the tiniest ball. </font></span></p><font size="4"><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"></font><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font size="4">They have both left this world years ago creating huge holes in our lives. </font></span></p><font size="4"><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"></font><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><font size="4"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wearing </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">our </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">color, Tudor green, she was holding onto his arm and he was patting her hand. There is water present, but I am not sure how. It should have been cold, but it wasn’t. I could see tiny birds and little sounds and see very little; there was also music in the background. I wish I could have been clearer or stayed longer in that dream. </span></font></p><font size="4"><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"></font><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font size="4">They are walking towards me with smooth, smiling faces and straight backs. Terry is leaning down to listen to my gentle spoken 4’9” Grandma. He says, “Now Geva, she is coming, but it’s not quite time yet.” </font></span></p><font size="4"><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"></font><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font size="4">My Grandma smiles up to him and responds, “We’ve waited a long while, her body is tired, and we are ready.” And at that they glance behind them and that is when I see the multitude of people walking behind them: smiling.They are there: the loved ones and unknown people who have already left us. They are there, preparing a place for our girl. </font></span></p><font size="4"><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"></font><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font size="4"> I know, more than I have ever known, that there is a homecoming being prepared. Though we may not be ready, never will be ready, but there is an abundance of love awaiting. They are preparing a place where she will no longer have pain and will be enveloped by love. </font></span></p><font size="4"><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"></font><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font size="4">It will break my heart, but it is an immense comfort to know who will be welcoming her home. </font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font size="4"><br></font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font size="4">Now, we are not going to move in to SAD. I’m not sharing this because I believe the time is very short. I can’t know anything if the sort. This dream eased my tired heart and gave me a better perspective. </font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><font size="4">I know I will have days, hours, minutes of anger and sadness, but still I know. I will say all the angry words And still, </font><span style="font-size: large;">I know. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><font face="Arial" size="4"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Meanwhile I will keep making plans because “I know the plans” that are in place for her and the “Victory” that awaits her and all who live with progressive degenerative diseases. </span></font></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><font face="Arial" size="4"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></font></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><font face="Arial" size="4"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">You are loved. </span></font></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><br></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><font face="Arial" size="4"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></font></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><font face="Arial" size="4"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></font><a href="https://music.apple.com/us/album/see-a-victory/1490613106?i=1490613249">https://music.apple.com/us/album/see-a-victory/1490613106?i=1490613249</a></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><font face="Arial" size="4"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></font></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><font face="Arial" size="4"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></font></p> </div>Ileana Jenningshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09401822082618252342noreply@blogger.com4