Tag Archives: home

My Father’s House

Last night I was finger-poking a few emails at the kitchen table. Mom was gone and Dad had gone out back to his workshop. I was not surprised to hear his footsteps come in a while later, but was caught off guard by his excited bounding around the kitchen entry way and motioning me to follow him with a big smile on his face. Doing my best to make haste in following him towards the garage door without falling, I still am clueless as to what is going on or what I should be expecting to see.

Dad motions to go down the garage stairs and then does so himself. As he nears the bottom, I start to make my first step and grab the railings out of instinct. “OH WOW!!!”, I blurt out as I look at Dad who is all smiles at the bottom of the stairs. I look back at the new railings (attached to the old ones which are just huge wooden, flat beams). The new smaller, circular handle railings were perfect! Fixing the railings on these stairs has been on the top of my OT list, as for starters…I am serious I have “stairophobia”: my own terminology for, “Mel is afraid of falling down the stairs.” I even freak out on curbs. Going up is not a problem…just down. So the garage stairs ending in concrete…I just loathed.

Back in high school or college, if you asked me where I saw myself in five or ten years, you would never have heard an answer such as, “I can see myself  being a disabled and unemployed single adult living with my parents.” I also don’t think I would have ever mentioned living in the Midwest, painting or writing a blog either. Everything I said (because I know I did have the dreams like being married and having a high status corporate job) or would have said–would definitely been the extreme opposite of what I live today. I still have dreams and hopes for the future–they are now just different…and it has been a long road of acceptance to finally realize that home is where I need to be.

After my first DVT, I moved back in with my parents: and I was NOT co0l with the situation. I tried everything to help my helpless case but to no avail. After a few months, I decided that if this was going to be “home” until I bounced back on my feet, then I had t0 make my room as “my room.” We got my bed in and Mom helped me arrange so I had a bookshelf. It felt more cozy and life went on…about the time I have a few good possible apartments to tour, my second DVT hits. It all went down from there. It wasn’t until June of this year that I talked with my Dad: “I guess I should stop apartment hunting, huh?” One look from him confirmed my answer and somehow that is when full acceptance of “living at home” settled in…and I had a peace about the situation.

The typhoon that recently struck the Philippines, leaving horrific conditions and deaths, has been on my mind and in my prayers for those it has affected…for those who lost everything that was considered “home.” My heart goes out to them and it has caused me to see, yet again, the many blessings that flow into my life each day. I have never experienced a typhoon or hurricane, flood, fire, earthquake, robbery or forced to leave my home. The most I deal with is the privacy boundary line between my parents and myself–but to scale of the others, it seems so small.

As I made my decision about no more chemo and putting the AFO braces on hold, I mentioned to my Mom that I just wanted to live with no extraness until that was no longer possible (i.e. when I really can’t drive on my own, need OT help in getting a shower or having to use a wheelchair.) As I continued to talk, I got some tears, but was not sad. They were reaffirming tears: My physical body is temporary, just like this home in which I live…it will one day be made new. I have accepted that just as I accepted the fact I know live with my parents. The future is unstable–ask me where I see myself in five or ten years and I think you would just get a blank stare. I don’t know my future plans, but I know where I am headed–where my real home is…and that gives me hope. Yet another reason to have a heart filled with thankfulness.

Don’t get lost in despair; believe in God, and keep on believing in Me. My Father’s home is designed to accommodate all of you. If there were not room for everyone, I would have told you that. I am going to make arrangements for your arrival. I will be there to greet you personally and welcome you home, where we will be together. You know where I am going and how to get there.

John 14:1-4 (The Voice)

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Filed under Adjusting to NF2, Family Times, Uncategorized

Homecoming: thoughts of heaven

This weekend was Homecoming Weekend for the university in town. Although it meant nothing to me (besides a fun parade and getting pumpkin chai with my sister afterwards), there were many class reunions during the weekend where the alumni had returned to their Alma Mater to celebrate their years of attendance and also seeing the vision of the school continue through the current students. This year was also special as it was the coronation of the new university President.

Homecoming is coming home. Ok, so maybe college is not home…nor your high school, but when you are saying “homecoming,” it is the welcoming back notion. I have to admit though, when I was in college, my term for “coming home” literally meant calling Mom and saying, “I am coming home.” Home. My mind has been thinking about this word…I think I started when we took a little weekend road trip to Toledo.

After my mom remarried, we moved to Toledo. I was about a year and a half old or so. We moved to Colorado a few months after I turned six years old; my first memories of a “home” were from there. As we visited a few weeks ago, I realized that all my memories of Toledo were of places, such as the tunnel you walked through under the main road to get to the zoo; the Bob Evans we passed to get to our house; the house itself (I can still see the inside); the church we attended (but when we actually attended church I noted how much smaller the sanctuary was compared to my five-year old mind); MacQueens Produce Farm and a really awesome ice cream place by car lot (which I finally got the name: Jan’s.) I remember things like my classroom at school, getting red tokens for lunch when you wanted pizza, learning the alphabet, and being Mother Goose in the end of the school year play. I remember singing a Honey Tree song for church and playing in the turtle sandbox or eating orange pushups. But what I don’t place is people’s faces. I only remember them through pictures.

All that changed in Colorado. We moved in the summer, meaning I started a brand new school that Fall. The kids in my class were the peers I attended the rest of my school years with, graduating together and continuing to keep in touch here and there (thank you Facebook.) Home was no longer just things or places…it involved people from town, school and church. Home, physically, was the house…a place where I could be myself, protected from the world. In the bigger picture, Colorado was home. I still consider it home. It is my Alma Mater.

Don’t get me wrong, I believe God moved me here for a purpose…especially in the area concerning my health. I now have friends, live closer to my extended family, a “home” church I have attended since the move and many open doors for my paintings. So why doesn’t it feel like home? Time may play a part in it: we lived in Colorado for almost twenty years (seventeen to be exact). Whatever the cause, I think it fits into the season of the soul..this current road I travel, with thankfulness.

Home brings thoughts of heaven. As my body continues to decline, [yet I am still becoming all that God has planned for me in this life] there are times when I do honestly question God in aspect, “I don’t know how much more of this I can handle.” Maybe I am using thoughts of heaven as an easy way out of this worldly suffering. Heaven is joy…and I look forward to that Homecoming. There will be nothing like it in comparison. But here, in the now, I should not be praying centered around myself, but God. It is only then that this temporary home (my body) will find strength in thanksgiving, even in the suffering:

Man-centered prayers tend to ask, “How can God help me with my problems?” while God-centered prayers consider, “What is God doing in this? How can I join in God’s purposes here?” This changes not only what we pray for, but also the way we pray.

Tim Challies. “Persevere in Prayer.”

Philippians 4:4-7

~Mel 🙂

*http://www.challies.com/articles/persevere-in-prayer?utm_source=feedblitz&utm_medium=FeedBlitzEmail&utm_content=5575&utm_campaign=Four-hourly_2013-10-02+12%3a15

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Filed under Adjusting to NF2, Family Times, Random, Uncategorized