I’m sharing with you an angel (and other ornaments) in a Christmas tree.
Click here for the slideshow of the rest of the album.
Tag: family
On the Second Day of Hanukkah
My true love gave to me … a tour of the Surgery waiting room, holding and recovery area at Menorah Medical Center. Meanwhile, he was prepped for surgery and waited and waited and waited and waited and finally entered the operating room at around 2:30 p.m. In about half the time originally mentioned by the surgeon (thirty minutes instead of an hour), he was in the recovery room and already awake and alert. Even though he had fasted (both food and all liquids) since before midnight (on the first day of Hanukkah), the anesthesiologist and my husband decided a general anesthetic was not necessary for the surgery to his right hand. A local block for the right arm, coupled with some sedative, provide sufficient. Which made recovery faster and relieved my anxiety immensely.
About an ninety minutes after the surgery, Terry was dressed and ready for the road trip home. The nurse sent me off to fetch the car while she wheeled him out to the entrance in a wheelchair. We left the hospital just in time to catch a gorgeous sunset and all the rush hour traffic along I-435 that southern Johnson County is so famous for. We still made it home before dark but not before the sun set on the shortest day of the year (Winter Solstice 2011). He’s doing as well as can be expected this morning. His attempts to contact his surgeon (and doctor) about some medication concerns (and some swelling this morning) are frustrated by the Friday before Christmas Eve short-staffing epidemic.
Thanks to everyone for their prayers and thoughts for us doing this stressful time. We greatly appreciate it.
Movie Review: A Dog Named Christmas
Hallmark Hall of Fame Movie: A Dog Named Christmas (2009)
Four out of Five Stars
I read the book this movie was based on last year for Christmas. The author, Greg Kincaid, lives in Olathe, Kansas, just twenty or so miles south of my home via K-7. But for some reason, the movie was not re-aired last year (or I completely missed it in the avalanche of Hallmark Channel Christmas movies that start in late November and don’t stop until nearly New Year’s). This year, I caught the movie on my DVR when it aired on Saturday night. My husband and I spent a very pleasant Sunday evening with the McCrays and their on-again-off-again adoption of a dog named Christmas.
A Mossy Christmas Letter
‘Twas the week before Christmas, and all through the house,
Not a Rottweiler was stirring, nor even a mouse
The stockings were packed in the basement with care,
Along with the tree and decorations to spare
This time last year, we were in Texas celebrating our son’s graduation from SMU. In fact, I mailed my Christmas cards out as soon as I returned from our second North Texas Thanksgiving and wrote my annual Moss Family Christmas letter very early in December 2010 (publishing it electronically via this blog). I sent out fewer cards this year and waited until now to finish writing this year’s letter. I also opted not to print and mail the letter. I’m sharing it here for family, friends, and anyone else who stops by.
Winter 2011
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. And boy did it ever! The first two months of this year dumped more snow, that I had to shovel without the assistance of my son (who fled south in 2009 to Texas to finish college and settle into a warmer climate). I spent most of Ground Hog day either shoveling the driveway or baking bread. At least I didn’t have to drive in it, since I had joined a vanpool in the Summer of 2010.
Rachelle visited us in January and grouted our entryway tile floor. Except for live streaming concerts broadcast by her college (UNT College of Music), I didn’t see her in person until Thanksgiving last month. She opted to endure more than one hundred days of one hundred degree heat in one of the driest and hottest Texas summers on record. But I’m jumping ahead.
My home state, Kansas, turned 150 years old in January.
Spring 2011
Terry and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary at a flooded Table Rock Lake resort. No, we didn’t take in any shows in Branson. We did see evidence of flooding in the area, but nothing that interfered with our stay (since we didn’t plan to water ski or tour the lake by boat).
Summer 2011
We enjoyed surprise visits from my uncle Ron and son Derek and his wife Royna near the 4th of July weekend. We spent hours visiting and enjoying the cool air from my newly installed and updated central air unit (well, newly installed in December, but not tested until the heat arrived in June).
Home renovation began with the roof, followed by the driveway and then the fireplace. Our experience with the roofers left us euphoric, while the driveway contractor caused us ulcers. The first torrential rain waited weeks to arrive, and when it did, we still had a leak next to our fireplace. Every roofing contractor we had bid on our roof assured us the leak would be sealed by the new roof. Unfortunately, while the extra care taken by the roofers to seal around our fireplace did not fix the broken cap and mortar none of us had noticed. We found a highly recommend chimney repair contractor who replaced our cap, some firebrick and the mortar. We are happy to report that the recent rains (before and after Thanksgiving) did not result in any new fireplace leaks. We did discover our gutter draining into a basement window well, but we’ve solved that minor water mishap with some weaterproofing and gutter run-off upgrades.
On the 1st day of August, I celebrated my 15th anniversary with my employer.
Fall 2011
We attended one of the largest SF conventions (the infamous Dragon*Con) in the country in Atlanta, Georgia (the last state of the lower 48 that I needed to visit). We won’t be returning to the venue, as the sheer number of people crowded into five huge hotels in downtown Atlanta blunted our enthusiasm for the events. I did get to meet three of my favorite artists: Don Maitz, Janny Wurts and Michael Whelan. We spent a pleasant evening with Don and Janny at a local steak restaurant.
A first for me (but probably not the last) attending a funeral on my birthday.
The Third Annual North Texas Thanksgiving gathered in Derek and Royna’s apartment in the Colony, Texas. A strange name for a community (or maybe not so strange) but a very nice place to live.
Advent 2011
December started with a ‘changing of the guard’ with respect to my vanpool. I became the sole driver. I managed to find three new willing riders, in addition to the remaining Hallmark rider. We finished our second full week together and we’re settling into a routine, just as we approach the holidays. I’m praying for good weather, not just because I’ll be the one that has to navigate the ice and snow, but also so my kids can travel safely home next week. Derek and Royna are driving up from North Texas on Christmas Eve and Rachelle is flying in on the Tuesday after Christmas.
While I’m looking forward to seeing Derek, Royna and Rachelle again, I’m also concerned about my husband’s health. As I mentioned last week in my request for prayers, something new has cropped up to dampen our festive moods. He did see a specialist last week and a biopsy is scheduled for three days before Christmas (so please keep those prayers flowing!).
No matter what the storms of life may bring, though, I will take time to ponder the wonder, the pure joy, of the greatest gift of love ever bestowed on such an unworthy world.
For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given,
and the government shall be upon His shoulder;
and His name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor,
The Mighty God, The Everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.
— Chorus, Handel’s Messiah
Merry Christmas from the Moss Family
Prayer Request
Yesterday, my husband received discouraging news from his doctor. The sort of news, when piled on top of all his other health issues, that makes you instantly angry, scared and depressed. We know more than we knew last week, but we know less than we need to know to deal rationally with the situation. Now a specialist is needed and more tests, all of which will not occur fast enough to suit either of us, especially with the delays in scheduling that the normally joyful holiday season will inflict on us. Just when you need it most, patience and peace flee before the storm of doubt and uncertainty.
So, I’m sending out an appeal to family and friends to prayer for healing and comfort for my husband.
Healing Prayer
Dear Lord of Mercy and Father of Comfort,
You are the One I turn to for help in moments of weakness and times of need. I ask you to be with my husband during this illness. Psalm 107:20 says that you send out your Word and heal. So then, please send your healing Word to my husband. In the name of Jesus, the Great Physician, drive out all infirmity and sickness from his body.
Oh Lord, I ask that you turn this weakness into strength, this suffering into compassion, this sorrow into joy, and this pain into comfort for others. May my husband trust in your goodness and hope in your faithfulness, even in the midst of this suffering. Let him be filled with patience and joy in your presence as he waits for your healing touch.
Please restore my husband to full health, dearest Father. Remove all fear and doubt from his heart by the power of your Holy Spirit. And may you, Lord, be glorified through his life. As you heal and renew my husband, Lord, may he bless and praise you.
All of this I pray in the name of Your Son, Jesus Christ.
Amen.
15 And the prayer that is said with faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will heal that person. And if the person has sinned, the sins will be forgiven. 16 Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so God can heal you. When a believing person prays, great things happen.
Bert & Ernie Stopped By
I decided to visit Bedford Falls this evening. I spent time with the Baileys and even admired Zuzu’s petals. I pondered the parallels of Pottersville and a more recent Potter-dom. But I savored the supporting roles of the original Bert and Ernie most as I watched “It’s a Wonderful Life.”
More in the morning … good night for now.
* * *
Good morning (at least for the next thirty minutes in the Central time zone). I am being exceedingly lazy this Sunday morning, lounging around the house, reading a space opera and visiting with my dad, who stopped by to return the house key I left him while we were away in Texas.
According to the Trivia section of IMDB’s entry for ‘It’s a Wonderful Life,’ Sesame Street’s Bert and Ernie muppets were NOT named for the characters in the film:
Two of Sesame Street’s Muppets, Bert and Ernie, share their names with the film’s cop and cab driver, respectively, but it’s believed to be just a coincidence. While Karolyn Grimes, who played Zuzu, claimed that the two Muppets were named after the characters because the movie was Jim Henson’s favorite, according to longtime Muppets head writer Jerry Juhl in an interview with The San Francisco Chronicle, Ernie and Bert were not named after the movie’s characters. Juhl said, “I was not present at the naming, but I was always positive the rumor was incorrect. Despite his many talents, Jim Henson had no memory for details like this. He knew the movie, of course, but would not have remembered the cop and the cabdriver. I was not able to confirm this with Jim before he died, but shortly thereafter I spoke to Jon Stone, Sesame Street’s first producer and head writer and a man largely responsible for the show’s format. He assured me that Ernie and Bert were named one day when he and Jim were studying the prototype puppets. They decided that one of them looked like an Ernie, and the other one looked like a Bert. The movie character names are purely coincidental.”
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0038650/trivia?tab=tr&item=tr0765775
The characters antics in the context of the early twentieth century (late 20s, the Depression and during WWII) showed their age while I watched it last night. Uncle Billy using string tied around his fingers are reminders, which he never remembered (compared to my use of electronic calendars and text message alerts). Live bands and dance contests, with such classics as the Charleston and the Jitterbug (while my kids play DDR on a game console). The ‘Hee-Haw’ salute shared among the Bedford boys still slips my grasp; I can’t imagine what children born in the twenty-first century think of it. Two piece telephones, telegrams, phonograph records, trains, all things I’ve never seen or experienced, but I at least knew someone who had and could connect with that past.
But regardless of the context where and when the film was cast and shot, the story shines, nearly as classic as Dicken’s A Christmas Carol and an annual favorite in my household.
Happy Birthday Dad!
Today I wish my father “Happy Birthday!” and express my gratitude for all he does for me and my family. I baked him a fresh loaf of home-made bread this morning and will treat him to dinner sometime this weekend at a restaurant of his choice. I will take a stroll down memory lane when I revisit this post in a couple of days, once I’ve had a chance to recover from a medical procedure I underwent yesterday. But I at least wanted to post a quick blurb for my eighteenth day of ‘Thirty Days of Thankfulness‘ and shout out to my dad:
Happy Birthday!
Rottweiler Rising
Today, and every day, I’m thankful for the companionship and unconditional love of my Rottweilers. I’ll focus my fourth ‘Thirty Days of Thankfulness‘ topic with a walk down memory lane with Baron, Roxy and Apollo.
These two are not our first Rottweilers, and probably won’t be our last. Only Heaven knows why all dogs adopted by the Moss Family select me as their favorite family member.
I grew up a cat person. Yes, we had a dog, once, but it’s the cats I remember. I adored them; they put up with me. Ironically, I married a dog person and spawned more dog-loving offspring. At least my daughter had some affinity for cats, but gave equal time to dogs. In fact, Rachelle rescued Roxy from our local animal shelter back in 2004 or 2005. At least we had a fenced back yard. A good friend we knew from church also loved Rottweilers and helped train dogs, so Rachelle and Roxy went to obedience school together for the first few months. Roxy learned the commands well and even learned how to track and speak on command, not always an easy command to teach a Rottweiler.
A year or so later, my husband conspired with Rachelle to rescue Apollo, using the excuse Roxy suffered from loneliness. They took Roxy to the same animal shelter she was rescued from to meet Apollo, to see if she would like him and could get along with him. Apollo followed the pattern or all previous dogs we’ve adopted and looked up to me, but he really connected with Rachelle. Perhaps he was just playing along with the established canine hierarchy previously established by Roxy. When Rachelle left to attend college in North Texas, Apollo accepted his lot in life and transferred his loyalty, temporarily Rachelle hopes, to Terry. Apollo will get his annual Rachelle fix at the end of December, which she returns for a two week visit during her between-semester holiday break.
One of our previous Rottweilers, Baron, came from champion stock and weighed in over one hundred and twenty pounds (I don’t remember exactly, it could have been up over 130). He exhibited the typical male Rottweiler traits — grumpiness, protectiveness, aggressiveness, insatiable appetite — and still followed me around with puppy dog eyes. Because he was full blooded and registered, we never neutered him, so that probably contributed to his Alpha-dog antics; although King, an even larger, but older, Malamute, did not suffer foolishness. We lost Baron tragically to stomach torsion in the early 90s, leaving King alone again until he passed away peacefully at the great old age of fourteen.
We took more than ten years to adopt another Rottweiler. I blame Rachelle completely for the rescue of Roxy. I never dreamed I’d be buying (and hefting) forty and fifty pound bags of dog food again. Or annual trips to the vet to the detriment of the leather seats in my cars. Or finding dog toys that last more than five minutes (Tuffie Toys or a variant of the Tiger tested toys found at my local hardware store).
But for all my grunching, I enjoy walking either dog (rarely together, as they outweigh me and have incredible torque). Trips to the local dog park are a big hit with both Rotts, although Roxy, being older and slower, tends to flag sooner than Apollo, who can run and play all day long if given the chance. I come home each week night to wagging tails (or nubs in Roxy’s case) and greeted to a fresh round of snuffling and drooling.
Some breeds can self-regulate at meal time. In my experience, the Rottweiler is not one of those breeds. I often refer to the resident Rottweiler as a walking stomach. Therefore, I feed them both sparingly: a cup in the morning and a cup in the evening. Otherwise, Roxy would look like a beached whale in a week. Apollo, on the other hand, who is not a full-blooded Rott, often skips a meal because he’s not hungry and not driven by the need to consume anything that even looks remotely edible. When I board the dogs at the local kennel, I have to remind them to not leave any food lying around in a convenient dish, or Roxy will find it and consume it. She inhales her food. Seriously, I’m not joking, and I worry about her choking. Someday, I should post a YouTube video of Roxy at breakfast time, but it might be too short to believe. By the time I place the food in her dish, turnaround to scoop out Apollo’s portion and drop it in his dish, she’s usually done. Apollo then starts growling at Roxy to warn her away from his dish and I shoo her outside to the back yard, leaving him in peace to finish his breakfast in a leisurely five or ten minutes.
Once Apollo finishes his breakfast, he bounds up the stairs, prancing and bouncing around the great room in an effort to get my attention. I proceed to the other back door and let him out, provided Roxy doesn’t burst through the door as soon as I open it. Roxy hates being outside, especially if it’s raining or wet. Apollo loves the outdoors and gladly spends hours and hours exploring the backyard and keeping an eye on the neighbors and the frequent joggers, walkers and strollers. If he’d let me, I’d never let him back in the house, not because I don’t love him, but because I hate his non-standard issue long hair, which sheds continuously wherever he goes, wherever he lies down, even wherever he stands.
I am thankful for all the years we’ve enjoyed with our Rottweilers. I look forward to many more happy years of fun with Roxy and Apollo.
Thirty Days of Thankfulness
I missed the blogosphere bandwagon yesterday, not realizing the current posting ‘fad’ focuses on expressing what I’m thankful for in a daily dissertation. So please pretend that today is actually yesterday, the first of November in the year 2011.
I am thankful for my family.
- Thankful for My Husband, Terry. More than twenty five years of love and friendship, through thick and thin. He never ceases to amaze me with his brilliant musicality and compositional talent. His recent interest in the culinary arts means I come home to a new delectable food adventure nearly every evening. He overcomes his disabling chronic illness each day, never succumbing to depression or giving up the fight. He tilts windmills with home remodeling contractors and global corporations peddling home appliances. He is passionate and compassionate and I love him dearly.
- Thankful for My Children, Derek and Rachelle.
- Derek, and his wife Royna, just returned home after a four day visit with us during the last weekend of October. Number One Son came into the world busting the Apgar scale, despite an arduous labor ending in an emergency C-section. Even though he didn’t learn to walk until fourteen months, he never slowed down all the years we corralled him. He excelled at nearly all sports, having an uncanny sense of balance and an intuitive understanding of body mechanics, such that he competed nationally as a judoka in her early to mid teen years. His true artistic gift surfaced late in high school, blossoming under a mentor at community college. His talent for art and love of video games led him to the Guildhall at SMU and landed him an excellent placement even before graduation late last year.
- Rachelle, oh how I miss you. I haven’t seen you face-to-face since last January. The wonders of the Internet at least allow me to listen to your concerts live, but it’s just not the same as being there. At least I’ll get my daughter fix in three weeks when Terry and I drive to North Texas for our third annual Moss Migration for Thanksgiving. Rachelle’s gift for vocal performance surfaced almost before she learned to talk. I caught her singing as a baby and toddler almost more than she did talking. Years and years of choir drudgery and exceptional vocal mentors honed her magnificent mezzo soprano. As she approaches the last semester of her undergraduate degree in musicology at UNT, she is gearing up for a round of auditions (and the attendant travel) to various graduate schools around the country.
- Thankful for My Extended Family.
- My Father, who is always willing and able to help with demolishing a dying pine or trimming back a few limbs on my oak trees or any electrical wiring project that crops up. He readily supports my bread baking habit, where he reaps the rewards in loaves of fresh home-made and home-baked loaves. He also tags along on some of my astronomical adventures courtesy of the local Astronomical Society. I have a general class amateur radio license thanks to him. My troubleshooting talent can be directly traced back to me tagging along with him while growing up, as he fixed all many of items for family and friends.
- My Mother, who inspired me to read at a very early age (three or four) and instilled a love of all kinds of literature.
- My Uncle, Ron, and his wife Treva, are an inspiration and an example of a blessed marriage. Ron and I feed each other’s addiction for the next great book to read to the chagrin of our spouse (I’m sure). Ron’s watercolors keep winning awards at various galleries across the Midwest and East Coast. Someday soon I hope he returns to writing that next great short story, novella or novel that I know is lurking just below the surface.
- My Aunts, Melody and Jan. Melody, my mother’s sister, lives close by, within an hour’s drive in Topeka. Jan, my father’s sister, lives farther away in Ohio, between her brothers (one in Kansas and one in Virginia). Both of these women hold special places in my heart and fond memories from my early childhood.
- My Cousins, starting with the paternal side of the tree, Wendell, Eric, David and Katy. Since I was the oldest cousin (from the oldest offspring), I got to see each and every one of you grow-up, from infants to adults with families of your own. Katy, the youngest, tied the knot just this past June (on or very near both my daughter’s birthday and what would have been my grandmother’s eighty-ninth birthday). Wendell and his wife Kristen recently became the proud parents of twin boys, William and Logan. On the maternal side of the tree, I have many cousins, some of which I’ve reconnected with on Facebook and others who remain in obscurity. Since my mother was somewhere in the middle of six children, I am not the oldest of the cousins on this side of the family tree. Oldest to youngest (by family group): Roberta, Peter, Rebecca; Tracy, Kelly and Phillip; Brandi and Summer; and, Charles and Anne. I know I’m missing some in the above list, mostly because there are cousins out there who are younger than my kids and I’ve only met them or heard of them once or twice.
Even though 2011 marked the first year of my life without a living grandparent, I am grateful for the time I had with both my grandmothers. Doris, my father’s mother, passed away last year, and Juanita, my mother’s mother, passed away in June of 2005.
Quotes on Families:
Families are like fudge – mostly sweet with a few nuts.
~~~ Author UnknownWhen our relatives are at home, we have to think of all their good points or it would be impossible to endure them.
~~~ George Bernard ShawOne of life’s greatest mysteries is how the boy who wasn’t good enough to marry your daughter can be the father of the smartest grandchild in the world.
~~~ Jewish ProverbFamily life is full of major and minor crises — the ups and downs of health, success and failure in career, marriage, and divorce — and all kinds of characters. It is tied to places and events and histories. With all of these felt details, life etches itself into memory and personality. It’s difficult to imagine anything more nourishing to the soul.
~~~ Thomas MooreIn every conceivable manner, the family is link to our past, bridge to our future.
~~~ Alex Haley
To Scream or Keep Silent, That Is the Dying Question
September went into a tailspin about a week ago. I can’t remember the last time I actually received personal good news from family or friends. Death or dying and depression crowd around me, jostling for position and attention, blotting out my surroundings: beautiful sunrises and sunsets, crystal clear night skies bursting with twinkling stars, perfect weather any southern California native would drool over.
I woke up this morning after having tossed and turned and lost the skirmish with my sheet and pillows. Apollo couldn’t wait to jump up and greet me with a wagging tail and unconditional canine adoration. Roxy slept on, sprawled on the floor, oblivious to anything but her dreams of breakfast. I rubbed the crusty, dried sleep from my eyes, slipped on my reading glasses and woke up my Nook to see what had happened in the wider world while I pretended to sleep.
I soon read the sad, tragic news of the death of Sara Douglass (aka Sara Warneke). I discovered this astounding Aussie female fantasy writer a half dozen years ago and loved everything she wrote, especially Threshold, the first novel I found written by her. As I perused the various postings on Twitter and Facebook about her passing, I found her blog post from March 2010 she entitled “The Silence of the Dying.” I took a few minutes to read the entire post, after which I couldn’t help but shiver, especially after the seemingly prophetic nature of the most recent Doctor Who episode “Closing Time” wherein the Doctor seems to fall apart (emotionally) as he approaches the day of his death (flashback to the start of this season and the “Impossible Astronaut“). He even utters some dialog containing the words ‘silence’ and ‘dying.’
After reading Sara’s thoughts on how modern society sticks it’s head in the sand with respect to death (and the dying), I pondered my own situation. Part of my September tailspin centers on a sharp worsening in my health. Par for the medical course, I’m running the gauntlet of various tests, procedures and eventually a biopsy (scheduled for mid-October), all of which amounts to endless waiting for results and the accompanying anxiety. Just as Sara describes in her blog post, I prefer to keep silent, as I don’t want to appear ‘weak’ by complaining. Of course, at this stage of the ‘game’ I’m not in much pain or discomfort (not compared to what Sara or other cancer victims endure). And I must put up a good front for my husband, one of the chronically ill routinely maligned or ignored by modern day society. He needs me to be ‘strong’ and I will remain so as cheerfully as I can.
Normally, I look forward to the beginning of October and the advent of autumn with peace and joy in my heart. Of course, the fact that my birthday occurs the day after the first of October wouldn’t have anything to do with that would it? But this year, no birthday cake with sputtering scores of candles will great me. Instead, my husband and I will travel south, to his home town, to console and support his life-long friend and his wife in the sudden and unexpected loss of her mother, so soon after his mother’s death. Oh, and their dog died last week in the midst of all this family tragedy.
I am full of unanswered questions and troublesome, uncomfortable thoughts today, ones that I wish I had the courage to shout out on a street corner to the self-absorbed oblivious passersby. Rather than deprive a homeless person of their accustomed spot, I will jump up on my bloggity soap box instead.
From a Christian worldview, I can understand some of the silence surrounding death and dying. Jesus conquered the grave, therefore, it follows, that we can sweep this whole messy business of dying under the proverbial rug. (Yes, I’m being sarcastic). Yet, even Jesus wept (and raised Lazarus from the grave). Jesus also suffered, but not silently, and died, nearly alone, on a cross we nailed him to, at a crossroads dung heap outside Jerusalem. Two thousand years later, we’ve sanitized and compartmentalized dying, hiding it from ourselves so we can ignore the writing on our own walls.
I ask that you stop for a moment and spend time, yes, that very precious commodity you can never, ever get back, with a friend or family member who is dying. Don’t send flowers, or stuffed animals or Hallmark cards. Give them comfort. Don’t expect them to put you at ease about their situation. Embrace the truth. For you know, it’s not ‘if’ we’re going to die, it’s when. We’re all dying. And I, for one, will not go silently into the night.