Lives Were Changed

 

I see Mom standing behind the counter of the small hometown Mom-and-Pop store--The Eighth Street Dairy that she and Dad owned for a time. It was there she was happiest. There that she blossomed.

The glass on the door of the milk coolers gleam and shine, the countertops of the sit-down lunch bar is wiped clean and ready for whoever the day brings into the store. All of the potato chip racks are stacked with every flavor; the bread aisle stuffed with bright packaging, soft loaves and buns; the soda pop chills.

Mom greets the regulars and she knows not only their names but their stories because she always says that everyone has a story to tell. The lady over there has an abusive husband; the one over there is going through health issues. That mean schoolteacher is lonely and only acts tough as if trying to impress everyone. But Mom sees through the facade and she gives and she loves and she reaches and she touches more lives than she may ever know. 

At the Dairy, Mom sips her steaming cup of coffee and chats with a best friend from childhood. They laugh about the handsome customer who just left the store and they giggle like school girls and are young again without a care in the world. 

Then another young man walks in--the one Mom favors and loves. She treats him like family; she understands his home life and problems. She embraces him with her words and deeds and this man will never forget her.

She carefully counts out bags of penny candy: Swedish fish, flying saucers, gum balls, candy lipstick, licorice, and more. The hordes of children will soon come when their school day is over and she is ready with sacks of one hundred of each item. She thinks of them as hers, these kids; a little brood of young chicks and she is the hen of this little fold and she lovingly cares for them, smiles at them, and gives of her time.

Her face lights up when the love of her life walks through the door after his day of work. Dad greets her with a kiss and Mom tells him about her day; about the new people she's met and how everyone's story is unique.

Other young people come in to the dairy and they tell Mom secrets--things they would never tell another soul. She understands them though some are so rough-around-the-edges and beat down. She knows what that is like from her own childhood. She cries for the child inside each of them as she heals from her own battle scars. She teaches forgiveness to them. She lets go and shows them how to let go and they love her for it.

Mom worries over her little boy when she works at the store. She keeps an eye on him as he makes new friends and protects him best she can from what is bad in the world. She takes his friends into her little fold, and they spend hours, oh so many hours at her home and feel more like family than friends. She loves them and her circle grows wider and larger.

When the time comes for the little dairy to be sold, a piece of Mom goes with it. Yet as years progress, people come to her and say how much she helped mold them and change their lives. "If it wasn't for you," they say... She cries but they are happy tears but she is humble and does not let this change her simple, good heart. She's a soul with a body. A beautiful butterfly who has emerged from a cocoon of sadness into the light of a bright new day.

Later in life her mind begins to falter. Some of her memories are fading. But that one young man, the one she loved oh so much from her time at the Eighth Street Dairy remembers her. I have spoken to him and he tells me how much my mother meant to him. As I whisper his name to Mom, telling her I found him again, she smiles, sighs, and repeats his name to me.  We would lose her two days later. She will take a small piece of all of those lives she touched with her where we cannot yet follow.

You Don't Have Because You Don't Ask. So I Asked.

 

1979. That's how long I've been in the dental field. I've mostly worked two places the longest: one for twenty seven years, and the other, for almost twenty. I've had small supplemental jobs a day or so a week also in dentistry. 

When I graduated High School, I attended Bradford Business School for a nine month course. I didn't have anything else in mind at the time, so I thought secretarial work was the hot set up. I did great at typing, and I loved shorthand. The English and Math courses were excellent. I'd surely use these things in my future. Until I didn't. Well, at least not right away... 

All the secretarial jobs were located in downtown Pittsburgh, a drive or bus trip I wasn't willing to make. I'd already done the nine months of Pittsburgh and knew it wasn't for me. So I waited and watched.

My mother saw an ad for a local dentist office in my town. Dental Assistant: Will Train. Mom thought it would be interesting to check it out. So I did. Oddly, it was my own dentist that was hiring. But he had a new associate who needed the assistant. I dressed up, went on the interview and got the job! I had no idea what I would be doing, but never thought it would entail, bleeding gums, decaying teeth, and saliva! (Yuck!)

There was a moment I didn't think I could do it, but our front desk lady talked me through. When she showed me that I was helping people, not hurting them, it opened my eyes to what I was meant to do. And after a time, I ended up not only assisting, but doing front desk duties which would be something that I did for years. Finally, I was using the typing and grammar skills I'd learned in business school!

I met many wonderful people as patients through the years. I always enjoyed chatting with them, listening to their stories, calming their fears. I truly feel that it was God's desire for me to work well and be kind. I never faltered from that. 

Last year I began thinking about retirement. My husband has been retired for four years. Though I still enjoy what I do, I felt that I was slowing down. It takes longer for me to figure certain dental computer issues. It is especially difficult driving at night and Heaven forbid, driving in the night and the rain. Or the snow. I'm tired now. I want to slow down.

I started praying in earnest, "Lord, you know my heart's desire. Help me to know the right timing. Help me to know what is best for me to do. I don't want to leave my current office without help, so show me the way." But life kept happening, and I never brought it up to my boss or co-workers. Would they be receptive when I did? I had a goal of wanting to be done by June of 2026. But would we find someone by then in an ever changing field where people may only work out for a month if even that?

Last Monday as I was driving to work and enjoying my quiet prayer time, I felt empowered for bold prayer. "Lord, I am going to ask you for something. Would you please show me a sign. One that I can't miss. One that is right in front of me that I know is from you. You know we need another helper. You know I have the desire to retire. Please, give me that sign. Please open that door wide."

I got to work and began a super busy day. The first of the year brings a lot of dental insurance changes and so much to look up for our patients. But a little later in the morning, something odd happened. My boss mentioned a girl who'd just left her position at another office he worked at on Friday's. She texted him to mention "When Karen retires, please think of me."

I almost fainted! She was the very person I'd wanted so badly for our office. I didn't think she would leave the other place any time soon, but here it was: a gift. One that was wrapped in pretty paper for me. The sign. The bold prayer I'd said was being answered right before my eyes. 

I mentioned this to my boss. Though it was months earlier than I'd wanted to go, I knew we had to grab her before she went elsewhere. I looked up and said, "God, you truly have a sense of humor."

As of this writing, I am training our wonderful new girl. She is so good at what she does, that there isn't much I have to do. I may have only another week to work, but I am looking forward to my near future with hope and with joy. Hope that the Lord will open another door, perhaps a part-time job I can enjoy and meaningful volunteer work. Open doors to my husband and I taking more small trips. Spending quality time with my brother and son. Seeing dear friends. Yes, I am ready. I am grateful. Yes. I Asked.

I Can do This

 

Years ago, when I was in my thirties, oh my that was ages ago actually..... Well anyway, I had a mantra that kept me going when I was on a journey with Weight Watchers. I would say to myself, sometimes out loud about the changes in eating, "I can do this, I will do this." To which I would add also, "With God's help." I knew I couldn't do it alone, this way of eating better, portion control, changes in habits. It did work, and with lots of determination, I hit my goal. (Which of course didn't last forever and ever....but that's not what this little story is about.)

Last week I had blood work. With the online wonder of the My Chart app, we are now able to view things about our health long before a doctor gives us a call. We are floundering looking things up sometimes, imagining all sorts of frightening scenarios and planning our demise. 

I've been a bit of a basket case lately. There have been several things going on in my little world which have taken a toll on my mental and physical state. I have turned to comfort in a few different ways, but one of them has been eating too many sweets and salties. It's easy when we have a table piled high at work with bags of chips, homemade brownies, boxes of donuts from adoring patients, and worst of all, a container of my true weakness: Helluva Good French Onion Dip. Come on people, don't tell me your mouth isn't watering this very second thinking about that one. There are times I dreamed of polishing off a small container.

Sitting at my computer last night, I typed in the results of my recent blood work. Lots of good numbers and green checkmarks etc. "Hey," I thought. "I'm doing pretty well." Until page two. There it was, the dreaded number which showed high cholesterol. My stomach did a slow flip; my palms began to sweat and my heart speeded up a bit. "No!!! I don't want this!" I like my treats and sweets and eats. I'm going to have to make healthy changes if I want to avoid medication.

Okay, I admit I had a small party of pity. I scrolled and scrolled, reading up on healthy foods. I realized there are things I have to cut out entirely and bring in the crunch of vegetables and fruits, and say goodbye, or at least see you later to pastries, etc.

Mom and Dad had high cholesterol and I know it is often inherited. But I also know that I was running amok in my level of anxiousness with delicious treats to comfort myself. So, I wrote out a plan, I am starting today. My doctor put me on an anti-anxiety/anti-depressant. I want to live a long and healthy life for my loved ones. I want to feel good in mind, body, and spirit. I have to avoid the kitchen at work. I have to say NO to some things right now and make the time for a few extra minutes of exercise as well. I'm not fooling myself, there will be an occasional treat.

This is not a shaming post for me or you. There are times we have to allow ourselves some grace when we've been through a rough patch. But this is something I must do for myself and as I said those many years ago: "I CAN do this, I WILL do this. With God's help."

Dead Things Come Alive

 

No, this isn't an early Halloween post. I'm not writing about Zombies or anything of the sort. I'm talking today about nature and the parallel between the destruction of the storm we had several months back and life.

We huddled in the kitchen together as the winds roared outside. The power flickered and then went out. A darkness that would last a couple days. When I looked out the window after the passing of the storm, I noticed something odd. The landscape in our backyard, the horizon of trees, so to speak were gone. Where full, green, towering trees once stood, it looked like splintered toothpicks. Branches and whole parts of them lay on the ground; our fence was demolished, our shed, gone. My heart sank. Never before had we had such devastation, yet I knew we were more fortunate than most. Our house was standing, and we were unscathed.

Time passed, and though the view into the back of the house was forever changed, I began to get used to seeing it that way. Several kind people, helpers, came and cleared trees and removed our shed. We were very blessed with the amount of help we had. 

There's a little window in my upstairs bathroom and when I have it open, I was still able to see the tops of the broken trees. I didn't like the look of the jagged, ugly, lifeless things. What about the birds? I thought... They loved those trees and probably had beautiful nests every summer filled with their babies. Now everything is dead.

Until it wasn't. Looking out that little window this morning, I almost gasped. For where the tops of the pointy, toothpick-like trees were, hundreds of green leaves grew upon the trees again! How I'd missed the "growing back" part is beyond me. I think I'd been so used to seeing something unsightly that I hadn't noticed the miracle. Dead things come alive! 

So the trees grew back! And we can too my friends! For aren't we dead inside sometimes? Aren't we like the broken trees after a good wind of despair whooshes through our lives? Aren't we waiting and waiting for beauty to come again? We may bend, and we may even break a little, but it's the persistence of prayer and hope in the Lord that will get us through. Good friends, great talks. Small things we enjoy. Lovely music, a good book. And then all of a sudden, our leaves grow back. Our heart is restored! May it be so for you and me dear ones.

The yard after work was done, fence repaired, shed taken down. And the beautiful green trees once again!

This photo was right after the storm.

Creativity Healed Me

 

Only four months after the loss of my dear boy cat, Rocco, his littermate sister Bella went downhill quickly and we lost her the day after Thanksgiving. I never realized the bond between human and feline could cut so deeply after ours was severed. 

When Rocco passed, Bella seemed to look around for him for the longest time. Then I ordered a "cat pillow" with his picture and she took to sleeping right by it on the couch. Who knew that a cat could suffer a broken heart as well? Bella's depression turned quickly into ongoing health issues for her. Right at the time when my husband landed in the hospital this past fall, Bella began to exhibit some scary behavior. She barely ate, she seemed to have other stomach issues. One thing didn't change and that was her need to be in my arms. 

When I read or crocheted on the couch, Bella would always walk by scoping the situation. If I motioned for her to jump up, she would join me. But she was a lap cat and eagerly let me rock her like a baby when I put my book or other project down. She would gaze into my eyes as if trying to memorize my face. I spoke sweetly to her and told her how much I loved her but I began to have a terrible feeling.

Only one thing seemed to draw me out of a constant worry for my husband and Bella. I began some simple craft-making at the time. Just silly bookmarks at first, but then my passion developed into card-making and watercolor painting. Before too long, I found that stress seemed to float away, at least for an hour or so while I crafted. It appeared that creating something pretty created a much better me.

Though my Bella was comfortable, I knew that there would come a time that she would whisper in my ear that she was ready to join her brother. I truly thought I'd have her for several more years, but Bella said differently. She fell asleep in my arms at the vet's office the day after Thanksgiving. My heart cracked into two pieces and the tears flowed for a time.

Paper hearts, pretty Christmas glitter, and little baubles began to seal the fracture that ran along my own heart. As I shared the items with others, people told me to continue and cheered my beginning efforts at crafting. Bella was never more than a thought or prayer away from me, but my hands busied themselves with glue, scissors, and all sorts of pretty papers. The hands that petted and held a beautiful cat now began to make beautiful things. 

I miss two beautiful cats. I miss them with everything inside me. Their love remains with me as I sit near the two pillows with their precious faces. As I craft, I hear myself singing silly cat songs to them or calling them by the pet names reserved for special times. Rocco will always be my "Boy Oy Oy." And Miss Bella will always be "My Girlfriend!"

I will continue to make sweet little gifts for people and maybe someday I will even sell some of these things. I will enjoy every precious moment of crafting and thank God for the gift of healing that came along with it.

My beautiful girlfriend, Bella.

My little sweetheart's memorials.

Bella's pillow.

Bella cuddling with her brother's memory pillow.

Some of my latest creations:

Write Off a Whole Year?

 

Never one to "write off" a whole, year, I'm the type that can usually find good in most situations. That was until September hit with a BANG! 

My birthday month of August had just passed. As usual, I milked every precious day of it. We took fun drives, went to Kennywood park with my son. I got accolades and nice gifts. Yeah, I'm one of those. I am a kid at heart who literally tries to enjoy the whole month no matter how old I seem to be getting.

September began quietly until the afternoon my husband got a bad case of the hiccups. He held his breath, he drank tons of water. Nothing helped. Finally I knew we'd have to go to the emergency room. Such an odd thing, but it had gotten a little scary.

While at the hospital, the doctor ran the usual bloodwork and it was found that my Jim had extremely low sodium levels. Actually, quite scarily low. He was admitted into the hospital and stayed for four days. I had just begun a new job a few months prior, so my days were spent between running to visit him in the morning, head to work for a few hours, and then run back to be with Jim at night. During this time, I also noticed my cat, Bella acting strangely. She mostly stopped eating and drinking, yet still seemed to enjoy my company. We'd only lost her litter mate and brother Rocco only two months before.

While Jim remained in the hospital, it took a while to get his sodium levels back to normal. Too fast would be dangerous. And they changed up some medications he was on, completely cutting him cold turkey off of some of them. It did not sit well. I saw changes in my husband that began to scare me. He exhibited signs of confusion and anger. I never thought to ask the nurses about the meds at that time. The hiccups had gone away with medication the first night Jim was there, but all the water-drinking trying to rid himself of them, seemed to have caused the dangerous sodium issue.

When my husband returned home, my stress level soared. His new medications and behavior were foreign to me and I had to adjust. My Bella cat continued to get worse. Working full time, worry for Jim and my cat, I was consumed with anxiety. I began to lose my joy and felt bitter and depressed.

We are praying people and that never stopped. Jim was nervous from all he'd gone through, and his neediness made me weary. I wanted to be a good wife and asked God to please, please give me the strength I needed. I also talked with God about my Bella. "Please Lord," I said. "It's too soon after losing her brother. Don't take my girl away from me too."

It took almost two months but little by little Jim's behavior changed for the better. He seemed to finally be adjusting to the new medications and lost his fear and confusion. But we had to make the sad decision to say goodbye once again to a precious pet. Only four months after her brother, Bella crossed the Rainbow Bridge. I held her in my arms while she still purred for me. My eyes were the last she saw, and my scent, the last thing she smelled before she slept. 

As Christmas approached, I felt grateful for so many things. The year hadn't been a complete disaster. There had been moments of fear and sadness, but just as many moments of goodness, joy, and answers to prayers.

As I write this, snow is falling heavily and so beautifully outside my window. Small twinkling fairy lights are on in every corner of my home. My watercolor paints, soft yarn for crocheting, and paper crafts beckon me. Jim sits nearby enjoying solitaire computer games. We are very blessed.

I Tried Beating My Friends at EVERY Carnival Game! (IAAPA 2024 Part 2) Arcade Matt!

The Little Stool

 

The other night my niece asked my brother about a stool that had been in our family for many years...

Were you excited little stool the day the man and woman brought you to your new home? You had recently been discarded, unwanted, no longer useful; put out at a curbside yet someone saw in you what you could become.

The man and the woman brought you into their home and into their kitchen, a place with wonderful sights and aromas. It was always warm and cozy in that room, and it was there you would find your permanent place under the table.

They painted you white, a color that befitted your position. You wouldn't be like any other seating; you would always shine.

The man and woman spent many hours in this room, your room, and they talked and laughed and made plans and listened and loved. The woman cooked and sang. Music was everywhere in those days and it was happy, always happy.

When others would come to visit, you felt useful because your family, as you would come to think of them, never had enough seats and some truly lucky person would choose you and sit at that wonderful table, the place where talk and happiness lived.

Sometimes, they put books and papers onto you, little stool, important things that needed to be gone through and you felt useful and oh so happy.

You listened to stories, oh so many tales of times past and sweet hope for the future. You saw two children grow up and then become replaced by two little girls who would fight for who might sit upon you. And you felt proud--proud to be chosen and adored.\

You watched little craft projects, paints, dollhouse furniture, and pumpkins to be decorated. You proudly  held a warm body when that huge meal came once a year, the thankful holiday. You saw twinkly lights being untangled and listened to cheerful music at the colder time of the year; the time with the presents and love all around.

After a while, your man and woman began to age. They still sat near you, still talked, but it was different somehow. Maybe even a little sad. Sometimes there wasn't anyone to sit on you, to know how much you wanted to be useful. And time passed.

One day the man didn't return and a short time later the woman didn't either. That was the loneliest time for you, the waiting, waiting, hoping, watching. What would happen to you, little stool?

Then the boy, now grown came with a family of his own. There was life again and you were put back to work, the bonus seat for new meals, new conversations, new music, new stories.

One day, the little girl, slowly becoming a young lady, asked about you, little stool. She wondered where you came from and how long you had been with the family who'd loved you so much. The dad and his sister knew you had been around for a long, long time. They knew all you'd seen, all you'd done for their family. They appreciated you and they were happy for the day that the man and woman had chosen you. They knew you had heard much and seen much in your time with them. They loved you and they would always have you.

Jumbo's Adventure

 

After a rough day at work, talking with dental insurance companies, having claims denied, dealing with disgruntled patients, I drove home in a sour mood. I felt sorry for myself and shut off the radio. No music could cheer me.

A few blocks from home, I saw a picture tacked to a wooden pole that advertised a lost cat. The sweetest black and white cat stared at me from the photo. Poor little guy. His name said ‘Jumbo.’ It appeared the family was frantic and the closer I got to my house, more and more posters were stuck to poles in the neighborhood.

Well, Lord, I thought, that family has it worse than me. I knew what losing a beloved pet was like. As a little girl our dog Fluffy ran away. Please bless that kitty to find his way home. Bless the family to locate him.

My husband often jokes that I pray for everybody and everything. It was no surprise when I told him about the lost cat and how I’d prayed.

A postcard even came in the mail. Jumbo’s adorable picture looked out at me. There was a typed note stating that Jumbo was possibly in our area and to please look out for him.

Every day on my way to and from work, I found myself saying a prayer for Jumbo and his family. But weeks went by and turned into months. I never heard one way or the other about the outcome. It was a little disappointing to me, but then something happened.

My next door neighbor and I spoke the other day. She said that the lost cat had been coming around her house in the evenings. She had been feeding him, but unable to catch him. Another neighbor’s security camera had been going off the same time every morning as Jumbo stole a quick meal from the wall on his driveway. It was this man who finally caught the kitty and returned him to his frantic owner.

 I wanted to let Jumbo’s owner know how much I had been praying for him. It had touched me in a very special way that he’d been found, and I wanted to hear a little more about him.

She told me that Jumbo had walked several miles in our very busy town, crossed major highways and managed to be spotted in many different neighborhoods. Jumbo’s owner lived about forty minutes away and he had escaped accidentally while going to a veterinary office in my town.

She had frantically searched for him almost every single night after people began calling her to say they’d seen him in their yard. When he ended up on my block, his owner got to know many of the people and their precious pets.

I spoke with her about Jumbo’s big adventure and about how a huge town came together in kindness to help her to get him back.  Jumbo’s angel had been watching over him the whole time.

 (Photo credit: Internet)

 

I Got An Arcade Game Made After Me!

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He was a shy, quiet kid. He was never sure what he might be good at. He had anxiety. But then.... he found something he enjoyed and made a living at it!

This is my son's journey and this arcade machine was made with and for him. It has sayings and his voice, it has graphics of some of the fun things Matt is all about in his YouTube videos!

This is one extremely proud and grateful mother. Son, I am beyond happy for you. May you always do what you love and make it a blessing in other's lives.