PRIORITIZE

If you only had twenty eight days until "hit-the-road" day, and you knew that at least half those days would be stolen by pain, how would you prioritize your time?

I have a house to go through, making decisions on what to keep, take, store, sell, or donate. Ah, but the good thing is, if we leave stuff behind, the boys (son Trevor and his best bud William) will say, “Score!” They will be taking over the lease on the duplex.

I have friends to say goodbye to, at least for a year, though we will still have email (though sporadic at times) and the good ole tellie.

I have financial and medical/medication issues to magically make "transportable."

I have a neighbor who wants me to finish up our cooking lessons before I jet out of here. She still needs my secrets on lemon meringue pie, yeast dough, and pad Thai.

I have two boys I worry about. I pray we have raised them well enough, Ken and I with Trevor, and William’s parents, that is. I know they are both 21 and I had a kid on the hip by that age, but they are boys and I worry. I pray I’ve imparted enough of my hard knocks wisdom (ha ha) to them to keep them out of trouble, to keep them in their jobs and in this duplex. They do listen. I will give them that. I will miss them dearly when we go. I cannot seem to convince them to move south with us. But I think mama is having trouble cutting the apron strings.

I have my doctor, finally, wanting to send me to a pain specialist, finally. Did I say finally? Only in order to see a pain specialist, I have to be physically available in one area for months, until we find resolve. Finally, he makes this decision, but I only have 28 days left in Portland, and we won’t make it to New Mexico until October.

Winter was not kind to me. Winters never are. I joked often that the week wasn’t complete until I had fallen. Then it was fallen twice in a week. Then it was daily falls. It isn’t funny any longer. I now walk fulltime with a cane.

I’ve added another diagnosis to my list, and we are contemplating yet another, if we can figure it out. Yipee. But if we do figure it out, maybe we could finally get a handle on why my pain has gotten so out of control this past year. It has been far worse than in a long time.

My father passed away on the first of Spring. With the passing of my father, it has been like a major chapter in my life closing. Emotionally painful, yes, and yet there is a release. Maybe this is why God kept us here in Portland for so very long. That and all the surgeries my guys went through. Ken three and Trevor two in the span of two years. It has been a very tough three years we’ve spent in a duplex only slated for one year.

When God closes a door, He opens a window. For a breath of fresh air? A change of scenery? Or to at least have an opportunity to empty the chamber pot. Excuse the humor being a bit crass. It has been a very tough few years, frankly. And a very tough day, to boot.

We will be leaving Portland, Oregon, on June 30, 2013, whether we are ready or not.

Ken has been feverishly remodeling the Raven to accommodate my needs and so that we have the most economical use of space possible. After travelling some over the past few summers, we really found out what would work best for us.

I am sorry I have not been around lately. As I mentioned, winter was very hard on me. The pain and the migraines were too much. I’m trying to find the quality in a life so full of pain, but it is difficult. Life goes on, even with the pain, and so we must get on the road. We must get on the road, especially if we plan on wintering down south this year.

It may be a month before I write again, but I will be back. Thank you for hanging in there. Thank you for all your prayers. I know there must be many souls out there praying for me, because I experience God’s miracles every day. Even in this life so full of pain. I am so grateful for all of you.

Our first destination is actually only about 50 miles away from home, but what a sendoff—spending the Fourth of July at the rodeo in St. Paul! Next will be Neskowin, to say goodbye to some friends. And then we travel in a generally southerly direction until we reach Mexico (at which time we will bounce off the border and stay put in New Mexico or Arizona for the winter).

The St. Paul Rodeo in St. Paul, Oregon, July 2-6, 2013.

See you then!

Early Morning Walk

I went for a walk yesterday morning, searching for a bit of peace, a place where my pain might not be able to find me. At least for a time. I’ve had a bad exacerbation lately and I am not doing well at all. I’ve had a migraine for three days’ running, again, plus the unrelenting body pain.

I left the Raven about 5:30 that morning, with the fog still boxing us in and the air still a bit crisp and damp. I walked with my big camera hanging around my neck and my cane in my left hand, just in case, up into the woodsy area behind the RV park. I kept climbing and climbing, hoping to reach the top, hoping to feel the rays of the morning sun on my face. Hoping for clarity in all the issues bogging me down right now.

I never did reach the top. I never did find solace from my pain. Or answers to my issues.

Will I ever be free of this pain? I pray and pray. But I cannot outrun it and no one can suffer it for me.

What I did find on my walk were some beautiful plants and birds. These are the things that keep me going from one moment to the next, God’s beauty. A special thank you goes out to a very good friend who reminded me tonight of all the beauty that surrounds me even when I am in pain. Thank you. You can always make me smile.

So until God takes away my pain, it will be one day at a time. Just one more day at a time.

I Love You, My Charlie Brown

We have been having the most splendiferous time these past few weeks with our grandson, and yet, (drum roll, please) it has all at once become exponentially better.

We have finally made it to the coast (Neskowin) with our Charlie Brown (that’s what Grandpa calls our grandson).

Even though the weather isn’t that great, I have already sunk deep into relaxation mode and have been lifted out of depression, the depression that was the result of our eldest dog passing away.

After our swim today, we went into the clubhouse for a rousing game of Aggravation (just for you, Angie!).

As we were finishing our packing up to leave yesterday, I debated whether I should take any of my drawing supplies. Ugh, another thing to pack. Another thing to trip over in the Raven. And then, Charlie came up to me and said, “Grandpa says you might be able to hook me up with a sketch pad.” I gave him the biggest hug and said a heartfelt “I love you.” This is a child after my own artistic heart.

We have also brought my guitar, with plans of videoing Charlie playing (because he is much better than I) while I try to sing along. Again, he steals my heart.

Oh, and the knitting. He’s asked if I have extra needles along for him. At this point I could cry happy tears.

I adore an uninhibited creative spirit, and Charlie definitely has one.

For his thirteenth birthday, which was not too long ago, Grandpa and I got Charlie a book on how to never grow up. It has all the silly pranks and experiments that he just loves to do. That book, though he has only had it a few weeks, is already dog-eared and smudged, obviously well loved.

I do love my Charlie Brown and all his imagination and creativity. And I thank his parents for bringing him into my life. I don’t know how else to say it. Charlie could not be any more special or any more dearer in my heart, even if he tried.

Charlie obviously takes after his grandpa.

☻Taco salad face ☻

One Down, One To Go

Another town and one more show.

I wish.

I am so ready to be on the road. My toes are itching to be digging in the sand, down at Neskowin or farther south. I would really love a chance to get away to California or even Texas right now, but life is still keeping us tied to Portland. For now.

We met with a surgeon in practice with Ken’s, for a second opinion on our son’s shoulder. I just didn’t like what the first surgeon was saying, only giving Trevor 50/50 odds for surgery outcome. The first surgeon was the one recommended by worker’s comp.

So, today, we heard about two options the first surgeon didn’t even mention, and that may be because he was young and inexperienced. Who knows?

Tonight’s task is prayer and discussion, so that we may make the wisest decision for Trevor’s future. It is never easy when your baby has to go through surgery, even if your “baby” is 20.

So, until both my guys are well on the mend, we are forced to bide our time here in Portland. Maybe while Trevor is recouping, we can get away to the beach, allowing him a bit of vacation away from home as well. He has complained that he hasn’t been away since his junior year. Unfortunately, that is part of adult life.

Whether we go to Neskowin or not in the coming months, we will have to wait and see. Only God knows.

I refuse to say, “When Pugs fly,” as to when we may eventually get out of here!

Tinker Belle as a tiny pup. (And yes, she got her name because, when young, she thought she could fly, climbing high and just jumping off things.)

Winter Blues Come Early

 

Ken and I returned home a few days ago. We will be home for the entire winter, my worst season. We talked briefly about getting the Raven winterized, and my depression escalated even more than in the few days before we came home, as I dreaded returning home.

One of the fulltimers we met in Neskowin asked when we would be back. I wanted to say, “real soon,” but I know differently. She said that they were staying the winter in Neskowin, and I so longed to just hunker down, even though it was bracingly chilly, and the only thing I fear worse than drowning is the wind—and being so close to the ocean that you can hear the waves means you will get quite a bit of wind. I did not want to go home. I do not want to be home.

There is too much to do here. Too much stuff left undone, stuff left un-gone-through. There are too many bad memories here. Too much pain, emotional pain, family pain. It is too cold here. Too dark. This is not my home.

This is no longer my home, though my stuff is here. The Raven is my home. I know that now. I feel safe there. I feel welcome there. I feel happy there.

I entered in the front door of our duplex, and my only source of solace, other than my bed, is the light coming in the front door’s etched window. It beckons me to leave again, but I cannot.

I must deal with all that is left to do before Spring arrives.

But I must first deal with this nagging depression. I must find a way to make it through the winter with my sanity intact. I must find a way to continue to be me even though I cannot be free.

Life is Not a Race

 

Today I was not feeling well, but I had promised Ken that we would go sightseeing. He is a sweetheart and he usually understands when I am too tired or in too much pain to fulfill my promises. Even so, I hate to disappoint him. Instead, I tend to get grumpy, even though it doesn’t make much sense for me to grump at him. It would really make more sense for me to just say how I feel. Go try to figure that one out. So today I grumped my way into the Jeep, and we headed for Neskowin in search of beach access.

Grump grump grump . . . wait a minute. What was that? A photo op? Needless to say, I took control of the show and asked Ken to turn around and go back to the entrance to this quirky little neighborhood we had just stumbled into.

Everywhere we looked there were signs reminding us to slow down. Take life easy. Watch the flowers grow. And it looks like they got the kids involved in the sign making. Way cool.

I immediately decided that I loved this town of Neskowin. They know how to live. They travel in the slow lane. I want to be there, too.

So, here is a compilation of cool signs, compliments of the citizens of Neskowin, the coolest little town in Oregon. (We never did make it to the beach.)