A VERY INTERESTING STORY OF A GIRL
Autobiography of Margaret’s Memories:
I first met Curt at a football game in Pilot Point. He was a happy funny guy and fun to be with. We had much in common as far as values, interests and family background. Throughout our marriage he always supported me and my decisions. I always knew he loved me. I always knew he needed me. He made it possible for me to go back to college and earn my degrees. He was always there for the kids when they had problems I couldn’t handle. He tolerated my “free dogs” and learned to love them as I did; and they loved him because he gave them lots of snacks. His devotional titled “Free Dogs Are Not Free” will be remembered in the Winnsboro church when he compared the cost of our salvation to the real cost of getting a free dog. He was a wonderful, steady, generous companion. I will miss him very much, but I am comforted by the knowledge that he is now happy with Jesus in a new healthy heavenly body, reunited with his loved ones who went before him.
Carisse’s Memories:
Dad had the best laugh, when you really got him going. It was a hearty, burst of laughter with a little bit of wheeze that made his belly shake and his eyes disappear. He was a good storyteller, most of my memories of him are of us doing mundane things while he told his stories. Dad never met a stranger. He was always so at ease with talking to people of any kind and I think us kids inherited that from watching him. He always protected, provided for, and loved us. He was an organized accountant, even at home, I know because I had to balance my checkbook in front of him every Saturday morning when I was 16. To this day, I have my own filing cabinet I take pride in telling him about. On vacations when I was little I would hope for a hotel with a pool so that Dad would take me swimming for hours. He loved to swim. He taught me to fish, and he taught me how to drive on the pastures of land they own now, using the red GMC truck that still sits in his driveway today (he never got rid of anything ever). He was generous to a fault, ordering things from the TV that Mom didn’t ask for, and giving to any charity that would send a letter. When I was in 2nd grade, we convinced him to let us get a small dog named Dottie that would live inside with us and be my best friend. This plan backfired however, when he would sneak her scraps from the table and the dog became HIS best friend instead. At my brother’s memorial, Dad recounted a time when we lived in Lewisville and at one point had six cars stacked in our suburban driveway. It was a pain when someone “needed to get out” and we had to rearrange everything. “BUT” he said, “…those were the good days.”
And he’s right. Dad provided a home full of memories for us to grow up with, and those were the good days.
Wes’ Memories:
From my earliest memories Dad loved watching sports. While he was not fond of the coaching perspective, he encouraged me to play whatever I wanted. This came as a duty to my Mom whom wound up taking me to most of my practices as Dad was at work. Dad attended every Soccer, Baseball, Football, and Basketball game I ever played, even leaving from work early to make the trek from downtown Dallas to Lewisville to be there on time. I was not always sure where he sat until the referee called a "bad foul" on me, then you knew right where he was in the stands with the boisterous "AH COME ON REF"!
Most of my memories of my Dad were from us being outside working and or camping. When my brother and I were growing up he had a travel trailer that he pulled with a truck that got 8mpg and had an 18 gallon gas tank. Every 100 miles, we would pull over to fill up and he would say "here we go again, sixty cents a gallon, I tell ya, they just stick it to you".
There were so many funny memories of him on the road trips. While I know he had a great time, he seemed like Clark Griswald trying to get the tent set up or the camper set just right and nothing would go together like he planned. When he got everything set liked he wanted it, he would sit in his folding chair with a tea and finally try to relax, which is right about the time the park ranger show would be starting and he would have to get up from his chair again.
Dad always loved being outside and watching nature and would say "isn’t it pretty out here". I always respected him for being a kid from a small farming town growing up poor and pitching watermelons on trucks to putting himself through college, and making his way to be a VP of the bank, but still longing to be back in the countryside. I thank him a lot for being a great provider and instilling the love of the outdoors and a strong work ethic in me.
Dad always had a strict hand and was permanent in his thoughts, but he still gave me the room and freedom to make my own choices and mistakes. I look back and think my brother and I might have had what he always wanted to be able to do growing up: the freedom to ride your bike till after dark, have fast cars, able to build and solve any problems that came along because there were always just enough resources to get it done, and we did not have to throw those watermelons till dark.
Dad’s emotions always changed from one minute to the next, from crying in a movie (usually a war story) to yelling at the cowboys, to seeing him talk with anyone he had ever just met like he had known them forever (even if they were done talking 15 minutes ago). There were many times he just annoyed the snot out me for what he did or said. But like the line in the movie "Parenthood" when the grandma talks about the roller coaster, she says, "I always wanted to go again. You know, it was just so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together! Some didn't like it. They went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around. Nothing. I like the roller coaster. You get more out of it."
Dad was definitely a roller coaster, but like going to see a theme park you used to visit that is not there anymore, you miss it and the memories.
I first met Curt at a football game in Pilot Point. He was a happy funny guy and fun to be with. We had much in common as far as values, interests and family background. Throughout our marriage he always supported me and my decisions. I always knew he loved me. I always knew he needed me. He made it possible for me to go back to college and earn my degrees. He was always there for the kids when they had problems I couldn’t handle. He tolerated my “free dogs” and learned to love them as I did; and they loved him because he gave them lots of snacks. His devotional titled “Free Dogs Are Not Free” will be remembered in the Winnsboro church when he compared the cost of our salvation to the real cost of getting a free dog. He was a wonderful, steady, generous companion. I will miss him very much, but I am comforted by the knowledge that he is now happy with Jesus in a new healthy heavenly body, reunited with his loved ones who went before him.
Carisse’s Memories:
Dad had the best laugh, when you really got him going. It was a hearty, burst of laughter with a little bit of wheeze that made his belly shake and his eyes disappear. He was a good storyteller, most of my memories of him are of us doing mundane things while he told his stories. Dad never met a stranger. He was always so at ease with talking to people of any kind and I think us kids inherited that from watching him. He always protected, provided for, and loved us. He was an organized accountant, even at home, I know because I had to balance my checkbook in front of him every Saturday morning when I was 16. To this day, I have my own filing cabinet I take pride in telling him about. On vacations when I was little I would hope for a hotel with a pool so that Dad would take me swimming for hours. He loved to swim. He taught me to fish, and he taught me how to drive on the pastures of land they own now, using the red GMC truck that still sits in his driveway today (he never got rid of anything ever). He was generous to a fault, ordering things from the TV that Mom didn’t ask for, and giving to any charity that would send a letter. When I was in 2nd grade, we convinced him to let us get a small dog named Dottie that would live inside with us and be my best friend. This plan backfired however, when he would sneak her scraps from the table and the dog became HIS best friend instead. At my brother’s memorial, Dad recounted a time when we lived in Lewisville and at one point had six cars stacked in our suburban driveway. It was a pain when someone “needed to get out” and we had to rearrange everything. “BUT” he said, “…those were the good days.”
And he’s right. Dad provided a home full of memories for us to grow up with, and those were the good days.
Wes’ Memories:
From my earliest memories Dad loved watching sports. While he was not fond of the coaching perspective, he encouraged me to play whatever I wanted. This came as a duty to my Mom whom wound up taking me to most of my practices as Dad was at work. Dad attended every Soccer, Baseball, Football, and Basketball game I ever played, even leaving from work early to make the trek from downtown Dallas to Lewisville to be there on time. I was not always sure where he sat until the referee called a "bad foul" on me, then you knew right where he was in the stands with the boisterous "AH COME ON REF"!
Most of my memories of my Dad were from us being outside working and or camping. When my brother and I were growing up he had a travel trailer that he pulled with a truck that got 8mpg and had an 18 gallon gas tank. Every 100 miles, we would pull over to fill up and he would say "here we go again, sixty cents a gallon, I tell ya, they just stick it to you".
There were so many funny memories of him on the road trips. While I know he had a great time, he seemed like Clark Griswald trying to get the tent set up or the camper set just right and nothing would go together like he planned. When he got everything set liked he wanted it, he would sit in his folding chair with a tea and finally try to relax, which is right about the time the park ranger show would be starting and he would have to get up from his chair again.
Dad always loved being outside and watching nature and would say "isn’t it pretty out here". I always respected him for being a kid from a small farming town growing up poor and pitching watermelons on trucks to putting himself through college, and making his way to be a VP of the bank, but still longing to be back in the countryside. I thank him a lot for being a great provider and instilling the love of the outdoors and a strong work ethic in me.
Dad always had a strict hand and was permanent in his thoughts, but he still gave me the room and freedom to make my own choices and mistakes. I look back and think my brother and I might have had what he always wanted to be able to do growing up: the freedom to ride your bike till after dark, have fast cars, able to build and solve any problems that came along because there were always just enough resources to get it done, and we did not have to throw those watermelons till dark.
Dad’s emotions always changed from one minute to the next, from crying in a movie (usually a war story) to yelling at the cowboys, to seeing him talk with anyone he had ever just met like he had known them forever (even if they were done talking 15 minutes ago). There were many times he just annoyed the snot out me for what he did or said. But like the line in the movie "Parenthood" when the grandma talks about the roller coaster, she says, "I always wanted to go again. You know, it was just so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together! Some didn't like it. They went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around. Nothing. I like the roller coaster. You get more out of it."
Dad was definitely a roller coaster, but like going to see a theme park you used to visit that is not there anymore, you miss it and the memories.
Thursday, May 25, 2017
3rd
There you are again May 26th. Its been 3 years now since 2014, and we still miss you a lot Clint Brown. We endured the challenge of our second Christmas on the land without you, and the girls are becoming professional leaf pile jumpers. You'd be turning 50 this year, and I'd probably make fun of you for that. And did you know that I'm pregnant with a baby girl? I wish you could meet her, or maybe you already have if that's the way Heaven works. Wes will get to carry the load as her only Uncle since its all sisters on Terry's side, but I'm really excited to see him play with her. I still wish you could have met Terry too, we were robbed two weeks shy of that. He's the best husband and I can't wait to see him be a dad. I read something recently about how there is no "impatience" in Heaven. I don't know if that's true, but I sure hope so. Say hi to Jesus for me.
Sunday, September 18, 2016
Breaking Up with Hulu
(pic above via my friend John. Thanks John :))
I cancelled my Hulu subscription. Not that there is anything wrong with Hulu, there's just something wrong with me...watching so much of it.When I lived in Dallas I had cable and a DVR and I watched a LOT of TV. Once during a week of Thanksgiving vacation, I watched like four straight seasons of Dexter in a row because I could. Because I was an adult in my own house, and my roommates were gone. Because it was right there in front of me. I was tired and lethargic that whole week because I hadn't done A-N-Y-thing. After feeling that terrible, I decided I need to have a trip planned for all of my off time so as to prevent me from ever being that lazy again.
When I moved to Austin, I refused to get cable or a TV and I was real proud of that. Except my roommate had a TV and I had a DVD player so I just found myself going to Redbox ALL the time. "What should we watch tonight?" became a key phrase in our house. And our antenna picked up basic cable so we could watch mind enriching shows like the Bachelor. When I got married we refused to buy a TV, but by that time I had a Hulu subcription. Hulu is crappy in their movie options but they have TONS of TV. Especially reality TV, and I am a huge sucker for that genre.
Which brings me to today. We now live in South Carolina to be closer to mountains and beaches and I am sad to say that I just completed watching an entire season of Bachelor in Paradise. I have no explanation as to why I repeatedly, week after week, cared which twenty something was dating which other rejected twenty something on a beach in Mexico. But I did. And I watched all of it. And that's a lot of hours of my life.
We moved here to be in a place where we would want to get outside more, but didn't take into account that being a teacher, no matter where you are, is A MASSIVE TIME CONSUMING JOB. So at the end of the day you don't have time for a hike and a bike ride and you just crave the path of least resistance and all you want in life is peace and quiet and comfort and tasty food and to not be asked one thousand questions. So I get it. I get TV. I get wanting a break from doing all things productive all the time. I totally understand looking forward to a few hours of entertainment after a hard week of work.
BUT.
But I can't stop thinking about all the hours I give to the screen in front of me, and come out no better of a person because of it. I can't stop thinking about how those hours add up, and how absurd they sound when you say them out loud. One hour of TV/facebook/whatever a day equals SEVEN hours a week! Two hours a day equals FOURTEEN HOURS a week and so on.
Please don't turn into a person who feels like they can't talk about TV with me after this post, like I'm just silently judging you in my head the next time you talk about how you "binge-watched" this or that. No judgement here. This blog has always been about me and my thoughts and my own life. You do you. I'm also not saying I'll never watch TV again. I LOVE TV AND MOVIES. But I don't have a lot of self control, so in our family, my best bet is keeping it out of my reach. It's pretty much the same concept like how I'm not allowed to buy Oreos at the grocery store and keep them in my house. Because I won't just have two cookies a day. I can finish an entire box of girl scout Samoas before you even finish pouring the glass of milk. No control here, so just get it out.
Now, we DO still have options to watch things if we so desire. Our Library card allows us access to Hoopla, and we have Amazon Prime to ship Terry's snake stuff, then there's always itunes. But it hurts a little every time we pay $3 to watch a movie, so its easier to say no to that one. SOME media entertainment is fantastic and I learn from it like Poverty Inc.....but not Bachelor in Paradise or Real House Wives of New York (I'm sorry Bethany. I do love you and your hilarious wit). So I need to monitor and limit myself in this area a little more. Stay out of the rabbit holes if you will.
The thing I can't stop thinking about though is all those hours of my life I've used on media entertainment, and wondering now how they might have been better spent. Here are some of the things I've come up with that I could have been doing with all those hours of TV.
1. I could learn to Sail. Terry and I are currently obsessed with Gone With The Wynns right now. A couple who left the 9-5 lifestyle and have been RV-ing around America for the last five years. They just bought a Sailboat and this is where ALL OF MY DAYDREAMS GO TO I TELL YOU. There are tons of books on sailing in the library that could prep me for the real deal. In fact, I could just read all the books in the library on the perfect little screened in porch we have in our fabulous 1940 rental house.
2. I could plant a very small garden. We had big ideas about growing a garden on this acre we are renting...but there is a massive produce store called the Tomato Vine about a block and a half from our house that we can walk to and buy all the things ready to go without buying dirt and seed and containers and tools.
3. I could learn to play the piano. A skill I've always wanted. Pianos are everywhere. I'd love to sit down at one someday in a random hotel lobby and everyone turns there head and thinks, "What in the samhill is Alicia Keys doing here?!"
4. Photography. My Everest. I have wanted to be a professional photographer for about ten years now. Obviously not wanted it enough to learn my camera settings and editing software, but its a real dream I want to see come true in my lifetime. I especially think it would be fun to be a photographer for Pottery Barn or Southern Living. I could look at pictures of pumpkins neatly clustered on top of a plaid throw blankets next to candles and china tea sets all day, son. All day.
Also video-making. I took a media tech class in high school and loved it. Terry and I have had lengthy conversations about turning all of our trips into our very own "episodes" to remember and show our kids, just haven't gotten around to it. You know, taking up time and all.
5. Embroidery.
Pillows, wall hangings, what-have-you. Mom gave me a whole kit to embroider a bird like 7 years ago, that remains inside a box that I've now toted through two apartments and a house. And did you know back in 2006 I got paid about $800 for two quilts I made for one of my personal training clients? They were just squares sewn together, but he liked them and wrote me a check for eight hundo for those.
6. Sometimes I wonder if I could write childrens books. Terry and I like to think up ideas for them when we visit zoos. Like the giraffe who was born afraid of heights, and the monitor lizard who is, well, a bullied hall monitor at school.
7. Ted Talks = probably better than TV.
8. Games/Puzzles/Coffee Shops to explore. I never win games which leads me to enjoy them less. But there was this one time I beat Terry in Monopoly and I was queen of the world. I love puzzles though. And we could even take these items to all the cute coffee shops I should "stop into sometime".
9. My house could be clean? Like, all of it? At the same time?
10. I could clean out and consolidate both of the filing cabinets full of paid bills for each of us dating back to 2005.
11. I could come up with an idea, start a business, and be my own boss. I was there to physically watch that process happen with each of our good friends Kevin and Andrew. It was inspiring to say the least.
12. And the end of the lucky dozen is learn the Bible. Read the Bible. Memorize the Bible. Talk about the Bible. Know the Bible. I'm thirty four years old and still never made it through cover to cover.
I'm not saying I will never watch TV/movies again. You must be out yo mind cause I will. But I could watch less. I could definitely, definitely watch less.
Thursday, May 26, 2016
May 26th.
When I first saw this year's May 26th on the calendar I was relieved I would be at work for distraction. Darby and I have been talking about whether or not I should have some type of tradition for this day, some type of thing I do every year to memorialize the day I watched my brother die. But the truth is, I don't think I want one.
I don't think I want to give any more power to this day than is already hurtful. I don't need a date to remind me what happened or notice that he's gone. Its hard enough to hold it together when the unexpected triggers pop up. I went back to work on May 27th two years ago because I just needed to unstaple things. I just needed to put things in boxes all day long so I could go back to bed.
So today I will tell my people that I love them. I will go to work. I will eat good food. I will sleep comfortably in my bed. And most importantly, I will breathe. In and out, and effortlessly...all day long I will breathe. I will thank God for the time we were given with him, and for Stacy and the littles who came into my life because of him.
I don't think I want to give any more power to this day than is already hurtful. I don't need a date to remind me what happened or notice that he's gone. Its hard enough to hold it together when the unexpected triggers pop up. I went back to work on May 27th two years ago because I just needed to unstaple things. I just needed to put things in boxes all day long so I could go back to bed.
So today I will tell my people that I love them. I will go to work. I will eat good food. I will sleep comfortably in my bed. And most importantly, I will breathe. In and out, and effortlessly...all day long I will breathe. I will thank God for the time we were given with him, and for Stacy and the littles who came into my life because of him.
Wednesday, May 4, 2016
Why in the world are you moving to South Carolina?
Yes. Come end of June we are planning to move to Greenville, South Carolina. And I know what you're thinking? Why? Why would you do that?
First, allow me to waft my laments and then we will get down to business. I have nothing against Austin. In fact I am deeply in LOVE with Austin and you should all move here. I have enjoyed it so much. We live one mile south of Zilker park and three miles south of the Whole Foods downtown, which is near the infamous 6th street and other downtowny places. I have really loved living so close to the action that we primarily use bikes and our scooter aside from driving cars to work or other far away places outside of our ten minute radius of friends and fun. The food IS so good. The music IS prevalent. The people ARE sweet and kind and edgy. Austin is a great place to live. Swimming holes, barbecue, hillcountry. And don't get me started on my community of friends that I will cherish forever and ever. My sweet inner circle of people who know me best and pull me out of my homebody hermit shell. My extended circle full of adventurous souls that beg me to think outside the box. And my teaching community, without which I could not get out of bed for thirty seven weeks per year filled with pubescent, emotional, teenage angst. It really took me a long time to wrap my mind around the idea of moving away because life is pretty great here.
When I first moved to Austin, it was because of my 30 year old temper tantrum that felt trapped in Dallas. I was born and raised there and I felt like if I didn't leave soon I would blink and then retire five miles from the street I grew up on. That's not to say its a bad idea to stay there...Dallas is great too...its just, its not always enough for me to believe that the grass may not be greener on the other side. I want to hoist myself over that fence to see it with my own eyes. And when I up and moved to Australia for a few months at 25, and when I up and moved to Austin, TX at 30, I had lots of people tell me it wouldn't be any different. I wouldn't be any different. I would simply be me in a different place. Well maybe a morsel of that is true, but mostly not. My life is shaped like Austin now, which is dissimilar to what it was in Dallas. The Aaron's taught me to ride a scooter here, which means I avoid using my car when I can. I found Terry here, talk about a love story for all time! I don't own a TV here (but I do have Hulu and am working my way through all season's of the O.C. so I'm not as cool as I'd like to be yet). I go outside more here. I paddled my first board here. I learned to sail here. I walk to church here. None of these things are exclusive experiences to living in Austin, but rather because of the way my life is shaped here I can experience these things. Perhaps I would not have had the gumption to change some of these daily routines had I stayed in my comfy Dallas. Its a theory anyway.
Now on to the FAQ's of the big South Carolina move...
1) Do y'all have family or friends there?
Nope. Neither of us know a soul except the realtor and the airbnb hosts we spent time with on our Spring Break trip. Terry has some friends in the state a few hours from Greenville. I can only pray that people will be nice and welcoming, and karma will not bite me for ignoring newbies in the past and retreating to the cozy comfort of my longtime friends in group settings.
2) Oh are you transferring to a job?
Nope. Terry was laid off from the oil field and told me he would never return to the life that keeps him away from me for two weeks out of every month. So on to newer things! And y'all, I've been teaching 8th grade Science for E.I.G.H.T. years in Title 1 schools. Its time. I'm moving on too. I recently got certified to teach Elementary so that will be my next step. And before all the elementary teachers tell me how it won't be easier than middle school let me stop you. I'm not saying it will be easier. I read an article once about how every job has a poop sandwich you have to eat...what you have to decide is what flavor you're okay with. Elementary may not be easier but it will be different, and I'd like to try that different and see how I feel about it. Middle schoolers are weird creatures. They will joke with you one minute and tell you to F*** yourself and walk out of class the next. They want to drive and be in relationships while wearing Sponge Bob backpacks and my little pony sweatshirts. They eat a lot of hot cheetos and they think $50/day is a lot of money. Six times a day they come to your classroom for 45 minutes and trash it. It has its perks once in a while....but I'm just curious what its like to have students prior to their raging hormones, before most of them have phones and social media, before most of them have even kissed or know what drugs are, what its like to have 30 kids rather than 130 kids each day, to have the same kids all day, all year, with just me and my rules and my consistent communication with their parents. Again, I'm not saying it will be easier or even better...but it will be different, and I'm curious about that difference.
3) Whats the appeal?
A) Because South Carolina looks like this! ("Pretty Place" not my photo)
Aaron and Darby introduced us to Rainbow Falls in the Gorges State Park about an hour from Greenville three years ago. That camping trip was Terry and I's third date that started conversations in the first place like, "Have you ever lived outside of Texas?", "I wonder what it's like to live right between the mountains and the beach?"
B) Because lower cost of living
$400,000
5BR, 4 bath, 2+acres
Greenville, SC
$400,000
3BR, 1 bath, 6000sqft lot
Austin, TX
Take a gander on realtor.com for what you can get there. It may be un-updated, but we could get a house on a few acres within thirty minutes from downtown for under one hundred and fifty thousand. I'll take two.
C) Because if we ever have kids we want to position ourselves financially with bills low enough for me to stay home with them. I come home tired as it is right now. Terry was a guest speaker for one day at school and came home and took a nap. I don't know how in the world Mama's go teach other people's kids all day and then raise their own after work. I am certain I would give in to the sleepies and the house would burn down way before bedtime on day one.
D) Because our dream is to own some acres with chickens and a large garden that are sustainable for a large chunk of our food source. We need land for my future puppy who shall be called Mr.Bates or Dragon or Little Tex (I haven't decided yet) and Terry needs his own entire building separate from the house devoted to his snakes probably because there are SO MANY OF THEM AND THEY JUST KEEP COMING.
E) Because even if we only live there for one year we should get a ton of pretty hikes under our belt and experience a chunk of awesome places like Charleston, the Biltmore, Nashville, Florida beaches, lots of the east coast and visits with my childhood friend Arrie in the ATL...
F) Because it will be an adventure with my new husband and if I stay here I will always wonder "What if?" And I will mumble that each and every time I have a bad day.
"....I bet the kids in South Carolina wouldn't tell their teacher to F-off..."
G) Because a lot of Nicholas Sparks stories were filmed here and Dawson's Creek is about four hours away and I've always wanted to live on one of those sets with a big screened in porch like my Grandma's house.
4) What if you don't find jobs and churches and friends?
Well, Terry and I will talk to anybody. We think we get that from our respective Dad's. But if we don't find jobs, we may be up a creek. And then we will pray and I will whine and may have to do something besides teaching for a while but that's okay because I'm an educated socially normal adult.
5) Are you worried about...you know...confederate flag bumper sticker people?
Ok so its a long story but on the Hitchhiking Race of 2011 we had to take some guy to the hospital for his toe. I think he was actually from Alabama but anyway Darby and I drove his car to the hospital for him and when we got out we realized we'd been driving around with THIS on the back and oh my lands. Gross. Embarrassment. Help.
In my mind the southeastern United States is the real "south". If that makes sense? To me, Texas is southern like with biscuits and guns and bluebonnets...but its more like its own country....which we were after all for about a decade there :) So yes. Truthfully, I am a little concerned about the racism potential so near to the Appalachian Mountains. But then again, I'm not, and here's why. First of all, we just had dinner with a couple from California last night tell us this was their same concern about moving to Austin, Texas.....not that racism isn't here because I've heard stories, but just that its Austin...there are plenty of artists with handlebar mustaches but it's not known to be a hillbilly town on the whole. Second of all, if it is there, then shouldn't we be the kind of people that should move to places like that anyway? Spreading God's love all around? I've never believed you have to go too far outside your own door to love all the people and share all the Jesus.
6) Are you concerned about moving to a smaller town miles away from all of your homies and family?
Yes. My mom is my favorite person and she's already too far away at five hours from Austin. Plus she gets a new puppy every six months living in the country, and I need to be close enough to meet each of them. Coming from a majority of my life in Dallas and Austin a smaller town will be an adjustment. But Greenville is not itty bitty. There are over four hundred thousand people in Greenville county compared to the over one million in my current Travis county. So everywhere we go I just try to picture a little less than half the people in that environment, and that sounds nice to me.
7) But where will you live?
When I finish the school year we will drive up there and find a place to rent. If we like it, we stay and buy. If we don't, we move in with my parents and their puppies. (That's my plan B not Terry's. I do not know his Plan B. My guess is we would end up in Indonesia with larger snakes if he has a say in Plan B).
8) Don't they pay teachers less there?
Yes. About five grand less. Which is about how much we will save in rent each month from what I can tell. Maybe I'll finally up my photography game and make some extra mula?
9) Are you sure you want to do this?
I asked myself the same question when I got on a plane to Australia in 2007 and it ended up being awesome. No I'm not sure about anything. But I know that my brother has confirmed that we are not promised tomorrow. So better do some stuff now. This could very will be a bad idea. But we will find that out soon enough. And to quote my favorite Donald Miller,
"Leave.
Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a beautiful word, isn't it? So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted to be. And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don't worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed.”
10) Don't your parents have lots of acres in East Texas? Why don't you go try out your Southern Living chicken life there?
Well Mom...I mean, I've pondered that one quite a bit. But that's a town of three thousand. Might be a bit too small of a first transition. Also, does anyone really want to live across the front lawn from their in-laws? As much as Terry loves my parents and we could do puzzles together all the live long day, I wouldn't actually ask him to do that. We want to see what its like to start somewhere fresh for the both of us, and build a life together from scratch.
This concludes the question hour. I wanted to write this because anytime I see someone on facebook induce a major life change, I always want to know the details of their biography. I stalked Sarah Carlson for a good twenty minutes once with her moving to Abilene post so...there you go.
Come visit us in a few months friends!!!
First, allow me to waft my laments and then we will get down to business. I have nothing against Austin. In fact I am deeply in LOVE with Austin and you should all move here. I have enjoyed it so much. We live one mile south of Zilker park and three miles south of the Whole Foods downtown, which is near the infamous 6th street and other downtowny places. I have really loved living so close to the action that we primarily use bikes and our scooter aside from driving cars to work or other far away places outside of our ten minute radius of friends and fun. The food IS so good. The music IS prevalent. The people ARE sweet and kind and edgy. Austin is a great place to live. Swimming holes, barbecue, hillcountry. And don't get me started on my community of friends that I will cherish forever and ever. My sweet inner circle of people who know me best and pull me out of my homebody hermit shell. My extended circle full of adventurous souls that beg me to think outside the box. And my teaching community, without which I could not get out of bed for thirty seven weeks per year filled with pubescent, emotional, teenage angst. It really took me a long time to wrap my mind around the idea of moving away because life is pretty great here.
When I first moved to Austin, it was because of my 30 year old temper tantrum that felt trapped in Dallas. I was born and raised there and I felt like if I didn't leave soon I would blink and then retire five miles from the street I grew up on. That's not to say its a bad idea to stay there...Dallas is great too...its just, its not always enough for me to believe that the grass may not be greener on the other side. I want to hoist myself over that fence to see it with my own eyes. And when I up and moved to Australia for a few months at 25, and when I up and moved to Austin, TX at 30, I had lots of people tell me it wouldn't be any different. I wouldn't be any different. I would simply be me in a different place. Well maybe a morsel of that is true, but mostly not. My life is shaped like Austin now, which is dissimilar to what it was in Dallas. The Aaron's taught me to ride a scooter here, which means I avoid using my car when I can. I found Terry here, talk about a love story for all time! I don't own a TV here (but I do have Hulu and am working my way through all season's of the O.C. so I'm not as cool as I'd like to be yet). I go outside more here. I paddled my first board here. I learned to sail here. I walk to church here. None of these things are exclusive experiences to living in Austin, but rather because of the way my life is shaped here I can experience these things. Perhaps I would not have had the gumption to change some of these daily routines had I stayed in my comfy Dallas. Its a theory anyway.
Now on to the FAQ's of the big South Carolina move...
1) Do y'all have family or friends there?
Nope. Neither of us know a soul except the realtor and the airbnb hosts we spent time with on our Spring Break trip. Terry has some friends in the state a few hours from Greenville. I can only pray that people will be nice and welcoming, and karma will not bite me for ignoring newbies in the past and retreating to the cozy comfort of my longtime friends in group settings.
2) Oh are you transferring to a job?
Nope. Terry was laid off from the oil field and told me he would never return to the life that keeps him away from me for two weeks out of every month. So on to newer things! And y'all, I've been teaching 8th grade Science for E.I.G.H.T. years in Title 1 schools. Its time. I'm moving on too. I recently got certified to teach Elementary so that will be my next step. And before all the elementary teachers tell me how it won't be easier than middle school let me stop you. I'm not saying it will be easier. I read an article once about how every job has a poop sandwich you have to eat...what you have to decide is what flavor you're okay with. Elementary may not be easier but it will be different, and I'd like to try that different and see how I feel about it. Middle schoolers are weird creatures. They will joke with you one minute and tell you to F*** yourself and walk out of class the next. They want to drive and be in relationships while wearing Sponge Bob backpacks and my little pony sweatshirts. They eat a lot of hot cheetos and they think $50/day is a lot of money. Six times a day they come to your classroom for 45 minutes and trash it. It has its perks once in a while....but I'm just curious what its like to have students prior to their raging hormones, before most of them have phones and social media, before most of them have even kissed or know what drugs are, what its like to have 30 kids rather than 130 kids each day, to have the same kids all day, all year, with just me and my rules and my consistent communication with their parents. Again, I'm not saying it will be easier or even better...but it will be different, and I'm curious about that difference.
3) Whats the appeal?
A) Because South Carolina looks like this! ("Pretty Place" not my photo)
Aaron and Darby introduced us to Rainbow Falls in the Gorges State Park about an hour from Greenville three years ago. That camping trip was Terry and I's third date that started conversations in the first place like, "Have you ever lived outside of Texas?", "I wonder what it's like to live right between the mountains and the beach?"
B) Because lower cost of living
$400,000
5BR, 4 bath, 2+acres
Greenville, SC
$400,000
3BR, 1 bath, 6000sqft lot
Austin, TX
Take a gander on realtor.com for what you can get there. It may be un-updated, but we could get a house on a few acres within thirty minutes from downtown for under one hundred and fifty thousand. I'll take two.
C) Because if we ever have kids we want to position ourselves financially with bills low enough for me to stay home with them. I come home tired as it is right now. Terry was a guest speaker for one day at school and came home and took a nap. I don't know how in the world Mama's go teach other people's kids all day and then raise their own after work. I am certain I would give in to the sleepies and the house would burn down way before bedtime on day one.
D) Because our dream is to own some acres with chickens and a large garden that are sustainable for a large chunk of our food source. We need land for my future puppy who shall be called Mr.Bates or Dragon or Little Tex (I haven't decided yet) and Terry needs his own entire building separate from the house devoted to his snakes probably because there are SO MANY OF THEM AND THEY JUST KEEP COMING.
E) Because even if we only live there for one year we should get a ton of pretty hikes under our belt and experience a chunk of awesome places like Charleston, the Biltmore, Nashville, Florida beaches, lots of the east coast and visits with my childhood friend Arrie in the ATL...
F) Because it will be an adventure with my new husband and if I stay here I will always wonder "What if?" And I will mumble that each and every time I have a bad day.
"....I bet the kids in South Carolina wouldn't tell their teacher to F-off..."
G) Because a lot of Nicholas Sparks stories were filmed here and Dawson's Creek is about four hours away and I've always wanted to live on one of those sets with a big screened in porch like my Grandma's house.
4) What if you don't find jobs and churches and friends?
Well, Terry and I will talk to anybody. We think we get that from our respective Dad's. But if we don't find jobs, we may be up a creek. And then we will pray and I will whine and may have to do something besides teaching for a while but that's okay because I'm an educated socially normal adult.
5) Are you worried about...you know...confederate flag bumper sticker people?
Ok so its a long story but on the Hitchhiking Race of 2011 we had to take some guy to the hospital for his toe. I think he was actually from Alabama but anyway Darby and I drove his car to the hospital for him and when we got out we realized we'd been driving around with THIS on the back and oh my lands. Gross. Embarrassment. Help.
6) Are you concerned about moving to a smaller town miles away from all of your homies and family?
Yes. My mom is my favorite person and she's already too far away at five hours from Austin. Plus she gets a new puppy every six months living in the country, and I need to be close enough to meet each of them. Coming from a majority of my life in Dallas and Austin a smaller town will be an adjustment. But Greenville is not itty bitty. There are over four hundred thousand people in Greenville county compared to the over one million in my current Travis county. So everywhere we go I just try to picture a little less than half the people in that environment, and that sounds nice to me.
7) But where will you live?
When I finish the school year we will drive up there and find a place to rent. If we like it, we stay and buy. If we don't, we move in with my parents and their puppies. (That's my plan B not Terry's. I do not know his Plan B. My guess is we would end up in Indonesia with larger snakes if he has a say in Plan B).
8) Don't they pay teachers less there?
Yes. About five grand less. Which is about how much we will save in rent each month from what I can tell. Maybe I'll finally up my photography game and make some extra mula?
9) Are you sure you want to do this?
I asked myself the same question when I got on a plane to Australia in 2007 and it ended up being awesome. No I'm not sure about anything. But I know that my brother has confirmed that we are not promised tomorrow. So better do some stuff now. This could very will be a bad idea. But we will find that out soon enough. And to quote my favorite Donald Miller,
"Leave.
Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a beautiful word, isn't it? So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted to be. And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don't worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed.”
10) Don't your parents have lots of acres in East Texas? Why don't you go try out your Southern Living chicken life there?
Well Mom...I mean, I've pondered that one quite a bit. But that's a town of three thousand. Might be a bit too small of a first transition. Also, does anyone really want to live across the front lawn from their in-laws? As much as Terry loves my parents and we could do puzzles together all the live long day, I wouldn't actually ask him to do that. We want to see what its like to start somewhere fresh for the both of us, and build a life together from scratch.
This concludes the question hour. I wanted to write this because anytime I see someone on facebook induce a major life change, I always want to know the details of their biography. I stalked Sarah Carlson for a good twenty minutes once with her moving to Abilene post so...there you go.
Come visit us in a few months friends!!!
Tuesday, April 12, 2016
The Thing About Death Is...
"Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?"
The point of this text is that death is not the end. I have been taught this concept since being a baby in a pew at church. I get it. I get that people who love Jesus get to go to Heaven. No matter what happens here on Earth, death shouldn't really have power over us because we will see them again in Heaven and live together forever. I get that. And it's true. And death makes it okay, because we have comfort in knowing that even when a human body gives out, there is a soul that is living on, and when my body gives out one day, my soul will meet theirs and live on too. But what about the now? What about the sting of now...not the comfort of someday? What about the absence here on Earth for the next 60+ years? What about the effects of the absence here on Earth?
Now lets be clear about my role in this grief. Mine is not the intense every day grief of a wife, a mother, or a daughter. It is that of a younger sister, and the grief of someone who made it thirty two years without knowing any real death outside of a grandparent. Clint moved away a decade before he passed, and for that decade I saw him maybe twice a year. We are not the kind of family that takes annual ski trips together. Our family is not the chat-on-the-phone-kind. (Well, maybe except for we all call Mom often, but I usually only call my brothers and my Dad when I have a question.) I've especially become aware of this after living with Terry and watching him chat with his sisters on the phone regularly. But when we do see each other...we are family. We talk, we eat, we catch up, we reminisce, we discuss the future, we help Mom with her latest technology, we watch Dad fall asleep in the chair, we take walks in the woods.
The beginnings of this grief still felt like Clint just lived on the other side of the country and see you at the next holiday. But then the PTSD would kick in, and just kind of come out of nowhere. This felt very much like death had a sting, and its venom would just flare up under the tear ducts without warning. One beautiful evening, I was riding on the back of our scooter to go see the Congress St. bridge bats with Terry and WHAMO, something just entered my brain and took me back to that day at the hospital. I just kept picturing that breathing machine. I lost it and was a sobbing mess. When we got to the bridge, Terry was sweet but I was embarrassed of my crying and assumed everyone thought we were in a couples fight. It took me a whole year and a half to get through an entire "Bless the Lord Oh My Soul" at church without turning into a basket of snot. We sang that at his funeral and there's a lyric that says "and on that day when my strength is fading, the end draws near and my time has come"..............WHAT IN THE WORLD WHY WOULD YOU WRITE THAT FOR PEOPLE TO SING OUT LOUD IN FRONT OF OTHER PEOPLE....goodness gracious.
The absence of the here and now stings more than I expected. I can talk about Clint in the past effortlessly. "Yeah my brother had one of those", "Clint and Wes used to ___", "Clint rebuilt a mustang once". But the here and now is rougher. He never got to meet Terry and I think they would have got along well. They could have talked about investing and gardening and building stuff. So when I talk about him to Terry, he is a ghost he will never shake hands with. Terry and I love a blog called Mr.MoneyMustache that I think Clint might have enjoyed. He missed my wedding, after being so encouraging for me to wait patiently for the right one. He did not dance with me that night. He will never meet my kids if we have any. He will never be at another Christmas, and we do our best to distract the girls from that. He will never pop into Austin the way Wes does. He will never research another product for me and tell me why the one I already bought wasn't a good choice. He will not give his opinion on this sad presidential election, and he will never again read one of my blogs.
Make no mistake. Death has a stinger for those left behind. It probes without permission, but it's there. That's not to say that we cannot move forward, or that we will not make new memories, but the lingering sting of death from someone close is a thing I understand now. It is a sad thing when a grandparent dies, death is sure to sting a person when anyone dies, but when my 93 year old grandpa passed away I couldn't help but think, "Hey Pa you made it! You got to see your KID'S kids grow up. Good job! Where, O death is your victory?". Its different with Clint. He was 46. He had three littles, a Stacey, and us. He was a GOOD dad and husband and a hard worker, not like some deadbeat parents who don't deserve the kids and wives they've been given.
This death experience has opened my eyes to a new perspective I have found valuable in attempting to understand empathy. The two year mark is approaching on May 26th and I guess I just wanted to write down a few feelings. I want to lift my fist in solidarity with those who have lost a loved one, or are about to, or will in the future and say it hurts and its okay! You got stung and its not your fault and you will feel crazy when you are up to your ears in snot sometimes but thats okay here's a tissue and some cake and a pat on the back!!! Go head and cry girl!! You feel all your feelings and wear them all on your sleeve and come sit by me.
The point of this text is that death is not the end. I have been taught this concept since being a baby in a pew at church. I get it. I get that people who love Jesus get to go to Heaven. No matter what happens here on Earth, death shouldn't really have power over us because we will see them again in Heaven and live together forever. I get that. And it's true. And death makes it okay, because we have comfort in knowing that even when a human body gives out, there is a soul that is living on, and when my body gives out one day, my soul will meet theirs and live on too. But what about the now? What about the sting of now...not the comfort of someday? What about the absence here on Earth for the next 60+ years? What about the effects of the absence here on Earth?
Now lets be clear about my role in this grief. Mine is not the intense every day grief of a wife, a mother, or a daughter. It is that of a younger sister, and the grief of someone who made it thirty two years without knowing any real death outside of a grandparent. Clint moved away a decade before he passed, and for that decade I saw him maybe twice a year. We are not the kind of family that takes annual ski trips together. Our family is not the chat-on-the-phone-kind. (Well, maybe except for we all call Mom often, but I usually only call my brothers and my Dad when I have a question.) I've especially become aware of this after living with Terry and watching him chat with his sisters on the phone regularly. But when we do see each other...we are family. We talk, we eat, we catch up, we reminisce, we discuss the future, we help Mom with her latest technology, we watch Dad fall asleep in the chair, we take walks in the woods.
The beginnings of this grief still felt like Clint just lived on the other side of the country and see you at the next holiday. But then the PTSD would kick in, and just kind of come out of nowhere. This felt very much like death had a sting, and its venom would just flare up under the tear ducts without warning. One beautiful evening, I was riding on the back of our scooter to go see the Congress St. bridge bats with Terry and WHAMO, something just entered my brain and took me back to that day at the hospital. I just kept picturing that breathing machine. I lost it and was a sobbing mess. When we got to the bridge, Terry was sweet but I was embarrassed of my crying and assumed everyone thought we were in a couples fight. It took me a whole year and a half to get through an entire "Bless the Lord Oh My Soul" at church without turning into a basket of snot. We sang that at his funeral and there's a lyric that says "and on that day when my strength is fading, the end draws near and my time has come"..............WHAT IN THE WORLD WHY WOULD YOU WRITE THAT FOR PEOPLE TO SING OUT LOUD IN FRONT OF OTHER PEOPLE....goodness gracious.
The absence of the here and now stings more than I expected. I can talk about Clint in the past effortlessly. "Yeah my brother had one of those", "Clint and Wes used to ___", "Clint rebuilt a mustang once". But the here and now is rougher. He never got to meet Terry and I think they would have got along well. They could have talked about investing and gardening and building stuff. So when I talk about him to Terry, he is a ghost he will never shake hands with. Terry and I love a blog called Mr.MoneyMustache that I think Clint might have enjoyed. He missed my wedding, after being so encouraging for me to wait patiently for the right one. He did not dance with me that night. He will never meet my kids if we have any. He will never be at another Christmas, and we do our best to distract the girls from that. He will never pop into Austin the way Wes does. He will never research another product for me and tell me why the one I already bought wasn't a good choice. He will not give his opinion on this sad presidential election, and he will never again read one of my blogs.
Make no mistake. Death has a stinger for those left behind. It probes without permission, but it's there. That's not to say that we cannot move forward, or that we will not make new memories, but the lingering sting of death from someone close is a thing I understand now. It is a sad thing when a grandparent dies, death is sure to sting a person when anyone dies, but when my 93 year old grandpa passed away I couldn't help but think, "Hey Pa you made it! You got to see your KID'S kids grow up. Good job! Where, O death is your victory?". Its different with Clint. He was 46. He had three littles, a Stacey, and us. He was a GOOD dad and husband and a hard worker, not like some deadbeat parents who don't deserve the kids and wives they've been given.
This death experience has opened my eyes to a new perspective I have found valuable in attempting to understand empathy. The two year mark is approaching on May 26th and I guess I just wanted to write down a few feelings. I want to lift my fist in solidarity with those who have lost a loved one, or are about to, or will in the future and say it hurts and its okay! You got stung and its not your fault and you will feel crazy when you are up to your ears in snot sometimes but thats okay here's a tissue and some cake and a pat on the back!!! Go head and cry girl!! You feel all your feelings and wear them all on your sleeve and come sit by me.
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Memorial Day
Memorial Day is when you are supposed to remember the heroes that fought for us. To me, it will forever be the day that my most favorite, and bravest, hero fought for us. I need to write this down. I need to be alone. I need to read this every year when my memory falters, and be reminded of how precious yesterday was. I need to get this out, and I need for you to read it because I don't "need someone to talk to". I don't work that way. Please don't ask me how I'm doing, can't you tell? Please don't ask me anything that would make me relive any part of that nightmare for you. HERE. Here is a blog. Read this and understand. As extroverted as I am, there's a giant introvert in me that deals with life through journal. Clint would always read my blogs. So this one's for you brother.
We found out Clint had prostate cancer around Thanksgiving 2012. I remember because we were about to do our mock testing at Mendez and I lost it at school that morning. It took everything I had to not be a sobbing mess that day in front of students. I was lucky to spend Christmas in Maryland that year. I was lucky to be on vacation with them in Chincoteague that following summer, which is, ironically my previous post. Over the last year and a half Clint has been in and out of treatments. Some worked. Some didn't. The roller coaster of high hopes and bad news continued until a few weeks ago when my mom called during my lunch break to tell me they had to "stop offering treatment. The cells aren't responding." Again, I lost it at school. Cancer is for other people. It's not in our family. I don't understand it. It's a hell unlike any other I've witnessed before. It happens in sad movies like "My Life". Not to my own big brother. He was only 46.
Last Saturday they told my Mom it was time to come up. She had flights scheduled for May 29th, but they asked her to come up two weeks early on May 17th. That's when I really knew it was serious. Enough to ask her to move her flight. I cried and cried, and Terry just held me and held me. I talked to my sister in law, Angie, after she dropped Mom off at the airport that morning. She urged me to go up to Maryland. I reached for affirmation from Terry who said, "Yes! Go! Why wouldn't you go?". Terry and I already had flights scheduled for June 10th, the minute after school is out. I was so excited for him to meet my other big brother, and the only member of my immediate family yet to size him up and down. But I couldn't wait that long. So instead of changing my flights I just added a new one. I used all my days off and flew up there last Tuesday.
Being at work on Monday was agonizing. Just checking messages and Facebook every 6 minutes for an update. I didn't get there until around 10pm Tuesday night. (SO grateful to Aunt Babs for shuttling me from the airport straight to the hospital). I walked into room 4002 and there he was. Himself, on his iPad, breathing machine attached to his nose. But, he was so thin. So much thinner than last summer. Thin and pale. I sat down and he and Stacey and I chatted like normal, calming my fears.
I think it was Wednesday or Thursday when Mom and I were there he told us we "needed to have a conversation". I've seen my big brother cry twice in my lifetime. Once, on his wedding day, when his beautiful bride came down the aisle and he was overwhelmed with love. He had waited a long time to find her when he was 37. The second, was this day, when he was overwhelmed with fear. He told us that the doctors said the machines and medicines weren't working. That they had tried all they knew to do. He cried through his labored breathing saying, "I'm just not ready! I'm not ready! What about my girls? What about my wife?! And Baby T? She's been such a ray of sunshine. I don't even know her personality yet. And now I won't be around to see it!" Mom and I cried and cried with him. There's nothing to say in that situation. "We love you so very much!" That's all I could think to say. That's all I could offer.
The next day we took shifts at the hospital. He wanted alone time with each of us. As he was sleeping on my shift I bent my head down to pray. I just prayed and prayed. "Lord I want to trust You in this but WHY ARE YOU ALLOWING THIS? You could fix this so easily! Why won't you fix this?!" Needless to say I was a sobbing mess. And Clint awoke from his sleep to a blubbering, punching bag faced, snotty mess hunched over in a chair on the side of his bed. I'm sure that was startling. I just mouthed, "I'm sorry." Went to the bathroom to wash my face as a nurse came in. Then mom came back and we left for the night. I texted him later and said, "I'm sorry. Sometimes I hold it together better than others."
I wanted to say what was on my mind. I wanted to get it out. But any kind of stress would throw him into a coughing fit and it seemed less selfish to be quiet and give him rest. We went back to the hospital later that night so he could have his alone time with Baby T. It was such a sweet time to watch him just be a Daddy. She can't talk any way so no need for coughing fits. She just sat on his lap and played with the pulse monitor…waving it back and forth and making him smile. She kept pulling it off her finger and he would teach her how to clip it on. That was my favorite moment of the week, and I was fortunate enough to capture it.
His resting heart rate averaged somewhere in the realms of the 130's all week. It was as if he was running a marathon for an entire week. His breathing became more and more labored as oxygen found less and less room in his chest.
On Saturday night I took H on a "special date". K had an impromptu date with me earlier in the day so it was only fair to give H a dinner date. We played in a bounce house at the mall, read books in Barnes and Noble, and ate more cheese pizza that humans should consume. We walked by one of those fountains where you throw a penny in and make a wish. She ran up to it and I just happened to have one penny left in my wallet. She threw it as hard as she could, which is really funny to watch a four year old do. We were laughs and smiles all evening until I asked her what she wished for. She looked back at me, and said, "I just wish Daddy would feel better." And I said "H, I think that is the best wish of all."
On Sunday I was ready to say my goodbyes. I had made peace with having no control. Believing that God was fully capable of a miracle, and trusting in a Heaven that gives brand new bodies and no more suffering. Mom stepped out of the room and let me talk to him. By this time he really couldn't talk at all, so he was texting when he wanted to say something, and I would respond verbally. I sat by the bed and grabbed his hand. I looked him in the eye and said, "Can I try to do this without losing it? Can you try and hold it together without a coughing fit so I can say nice things to you?"
He smiled and nodded. I began, "I want to tell you that I love you so very much. You've been the best big brother a girl could ask for. THANK YOU for inviting me into your life. Thank you for all the times you've paid for me to come up here or invited me on vacations. Thank you for wanting me to be part of you. I was thinking in church this morning about how we read these stories and sing these songs about how big God is and He can do anything and He loves us. I have to believe in that. I just know you're going to make it. It wouldn't be a miracle if you weren't on your deathbed. So, this is not goodbye, I'll just see you in two weeks okay?"
He nodded, and then he hugged me. I'll never forget that most precious moment I ever had with him. He wrapped his arms around me, my weight leaning on his labored chest, and he just held me. At one point I started to let go and move back, but he didn't. He just held on. I'll never forget that moment as long as I live. And as I walked through the parking lot of his hospital, to get in his car, and drive home to his house with his girls, he sent me this last message.
Sunday night, while Mom and I were watching Mary Poppins with the girls, I got a text from Stacey that said his heart rate was down to 124. I was SO grateful, and truly thought God was about to create the miracle hundreds had been praying for. Not so.
At 2am I got a message from Stacey that his levels were all over the place. That they had moved him to a bi-pap machine that does most of the breathing for him. My flight was for 10:50am the next morning. I got all the way to the airport with Mom in the car when Stacey texted again. "Where are you?…It may be time…" Just then Wes called and panicking I told him what was happening and said, "Wes tell me what to do! I don't know what to do!" He said, "Go to the ticket counter. Change your flight to the latest one there is tonight. Drive Mom back to the hospital. Pick me up from the airport at 1:15pm."
Okay, I can do that. Straight forward instructions. One foot in front of the other. I went to the ticket counter. I talked to a man who was unbelievably slow. I changed my flight. Got back in the car. Drove Mom and hour back to the hospital. We quietly cried the whole way. We walked in the room. This machine was new. It covered his whole face. His whole body contracted with every breath. His eyes were shut.
At around 2:30pm Wes showed up. Babs had graciously picked him up at the airport so I didn't have to leave the hospital. Clint opened his eyes long enough for Wes to talk to him. "I love you brother. I don't know if you can hear me, but I love you!"
I watched heavy hearted for 7 hours as the two women who love him most loved him in different ways. Stacey would stroke him. Long strokes on his hands, his wedding ring, his arms, his legs, his cheeks. She touched him as a wife lovingly adores her beloved. She did everything she could to make him comfortable every minute. That's the love of her life in that bed. "He's so cold!" She would say. Stacey had not left his side more than a few hours that week.
Then there was my mother. The woman who was there when he drifted into this world. The woman who has a mental photo album of every stage of his life. She would hold his hands and pat him as a nurturing mother would. Holding on for a time and then patting him as she let go. Holding on again, tears welling, and then patting to let go. Throughout this experience she has compared it to "Steel Magnolias". You know…"I can run to Texas and back but my baby can't. I want to know why? Why?"
My eyes were fixed on his monitors. I stared into the screen as his oxygen levels lowered and his heart rate increased. Then after a while, his numbers stopped moving. His chest stopped raising so violently. Wes leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Those numbers aren't right. They stopped showing his real numbers." I heard what he said but I didn't compute it in my brain. I followed him into the hallway where you could see Clint's real numbers. My eyes widened as I saw a flashing red number "36" on his heart rate. "Oh God! Oh God!" I clutched Wes, tears streaming down my face, and ran back in the room to be with my brother, my Mother, and Stacey during his final breaths. It was like watching someone drown, and not reaching to save them.
It's a surreal experience to see someone take their last breaths. To wonder if Jesus himself was walking him out of the room and we couldn't see. To watch his body turn from suffering to peace. To feel the palpable shock that there is no more. There is no more praying and hoping. There are no more chances. That's it. Enough now.
I love my brother very much. I don't say "loved" because I haven't stopped. I still love him. He loved me too. He laughed at my jokes, he was part of my life in every way that long distance allows, he made time for me.
Clinton Wade Brown,
You are loving, you are generous to a fault, you are handsomer than other peoples brothers, you are thoughtful, you are brilliant, you pick out the best birthday cards of anyone I know, you would give someone the shirt off your back if they asked. You mean the world to me. I'm so thankful you can breathe now. I know you are with Jesus and learning all about the way Heaven works. I'm so happy for your brand new body! Keep an eye on us down here, because we are missing you dearly.
Love,
Your Baby Sister
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