Faith, that's what I need.

 About two weeks more and the Pope will make his first appearance in the United States. When it was first announced of his visit, My sister and I made early plans to visit Philadelphia. Oh it will be so easy, we'll stay with a cousin just a quick trip from Philly. Even better, he'll put us on a train so as to not have to worry about the whole parking situation. Easy Peasy and we'll dash in, Make our acquaintances, have a bottle of wine, (or two) from Mendoza, Chat, have a blessing and be on our way. Reverse directions and be on our way home in time to catch the whole thing on the evening news....Yeah, that how I think most of the time. But here's the real story, You can't even get within 100 miles of the city without proper credentials, meaning, FORGET IT. Feeling like it was a hopeless case, I have to admit I gave up.
  Now my Shining knight enters into the story. During his weekday mass attendance he thought he'd check all the news and coming events hanging on the bulletin board in the back of the church. And there it was. A nicely written announcement on pink paper inviting anyone that would like to join their bus group on a pilgrimage trip to see the Pope. Please Call Karen @ --- ---- ----.  So now with my defeated attitude I called and while it's ringing, I'm thinking "there's not a chance in Hell". Oh, Me of little faith. 5 seats are in fact available. WooHoo! WE are on our way, Francis. Let's do lunch, it's on me.

On Easter weekend of this year we were in the midst of assisting in the move of our eldest Daughter, and by assist I mean we mostly drove vehicles between houses and did a bit of unpacking. It was during this time that my crazy ear problems ensued.

One ear opened up and started draining. A visit to the Dr. on Monday morning provided an antibiotic and assurance that it was just a general infection and nothing more. 2 weeks later and it's still draining so a return visit added nothing new but a pat on the back and a payment.

One month later and this confound-it  ear is still draining. A little pressure from me to the N.P. to see the E.N.T. and a visit was scheduled. This one was a little more enlightened and a culture was preformed along with treatment. Results concluded that it was M.E.R.S.A. and a C-T scan would be needed to confirm that it had not invaded the bone.

Results were returned and confirmed that it had in fact gone into the bone and referral was made to the Henry Ford Hospital.

Surgery is one week away and preparations have been made. The bone behind my ear will be removed along with my hair on that side. The hair, not so worried. It will grow back. The bone will not be replaced and therefore will in time be more noticeable. "caving in", I believe was the term used but again my hair will cover that portion, so no worries.

Besides being creep-ed  out by mersa, it's a little unnerving having nothing between my skin a vessel here and there and my brain.

My nightly prayer consists of Thank you God for a wonderful life, and my beautiful Children and Grand Children and my amazing  husband.

 1969 on a fall Sunday afternoon, I was sitting by myself enjoying the last few hours of a weekend. My Sister the avid reader, came bouncing down the stairs bringing me a book that she was sure I would enjoy. You'd have thought she knew me better but apparently not. I hated reading! If forced well then maybe. But I certainly wouldn't have picked one up on my own.
She did it! Hooked me! I was sopping up the abridged version of, "Mrs. Mike", by Benedict and Nancy Freedman. The story of Katherine Mary Flannigan. A story about a 16 year old that left Boston MA. for the Northwest territory in Canada. A True love story. Not just a sappy drama, but a story of Love, courage, and tenderness.
Now some 40ish. years later and the same Readers Digest condensed book was in the discarded book section of the library. Just reliving those days brings fondness to my heart. Not for just the book but mostly for a Sister that cared about my ability to read and focus.

Still waiting.

There are times when Doctor's offices are so exasperating. You call and are directed to press the following number to receive the front desk. Then hold for the next available secretary. All the while the worst possible music with static is assaulting your ears. After she picks up you are then directed to the nurse whom may or may not get back with you by the end of the day. I realize there more patients then me but for Crying out loud, hire enough people to answer the phone. One of these days I'm going to tell them my time is just as important as theirs is. Just not now. I have to wait until I get better.

A terrible week! Or so I thought. 13 years old and spending it with Grandma and Grandpa instead of staying at home with your friends was dictated instead of offered. Phone, books, and a few personal items accompanied this teenager. Thankfully the cell phone was compatible with our area and therefore service was granted. And to top it all off remote area, did i fail to mention that?

Now a year later and instead of one week we will be host to this 14year old for 6 weeks. Oh boy!!! I am however optimistic that we will find some common ground for us to tread on. We do have photography in common and hopefully this will carry our conversations into positive territory.

What could be better than 6weeks with a fourteen year old. Adding her 13 year old Sister. I'm looking forward to it!

Mothers day,
                         come and gone


 I listen to all the advertisements. "your Mom would like a new telephone", "Nothing says love like a diamond from......". Buy this, take Mom out to dinner or how about breakfast in bed.


All of these gestures are wonderful if in fact your Mother is still present in your life. For me it's a day of grieving. My Mother died more than twelve years ago and this day just breaks my heart. I don't think of her hourly anymore, which is good. I can get through a whole week without crying and sometimes I can even smile when I remember her.


I wonder if my children love me as much as I loved her. Do they seek out my companionship, my wisdom, my nurturing? 


I wonder, did my Mother love her Mother the way I did? Maybe it was a long line of love that binds us all together. My Grandmother wasn't very lovable as I was a child. She suffered from depression which didn't  allow her the capabilities to be the Mother that I had.  

All of these comments are not to make you feel badly, but more likely to make you cherish your Mother! Love her everyday not just in May.

Grandma Della's swift days

Great Grandma Della, for a short while lived with us. She was into her 90's and was making a transition between not being able to live alone anymore to having someone care for her around the clock. She had spend the last 30 years by herself. Her life mate, Nelson died and left her to her own.
Before her days were so confused she would easily spend them walking downtown every late morning. Sometime taking a bus but only if the weather elements were disagreeable. She would merrily walk from store to store to see if anything new was on display from the day before. Stopping at Kresge's for lunch at the counter, which usually consisted of a half of a sandwich and soup and water, warm, with just a hint of lemon. The left- overs neatly wrapped in a napkin and gently placed in her purse. Purse placed back on her arm and she was ready to head for home.
Home for her was tiny little house she built with her husband in the 1950's. By then they were past the child bearing age and God had not blessed them with any Children. When they married they were in such hopes that they would have a large family and planned accordingly. A different path was set for them. They became the caretakers of several families that illness had taken one parent or another. There was always a niece or nephew that would need caring for. That was their lot in life and I have never herd Grandma Della utter any but kind words for all those Children that she helped to raise. I also never saw one of those Children return to her in her elderly years to pay her a visit or to thank her for all that she and Nelson had done for her.
We however were so fortunate to have her in our lives. She was a surrogate Grandmother to my Children and to us as well. We were the benefactors of the love she had to give. We were rich with her sweet soft hand caressing ours. How we were blessed.
Grandma Della's only come into your life every now and again. My advise is to savor each moment.