A fellow blogger, BigMama, had a post about her daughter's Beta dying and the drama that ensued. It brought up memories of our fish experiences.
We've buried six Beta fish in my daughter's short 9 years, and the tales, they are aplenty. Let me preface this post by saying that my daughter has the BIGGEST HEART in all the world when it comes to animals. They have feelings, y'all, and they hurt just like people do. She has a sixth sense about animals; she's like a tiny Dr. Dolittle. Animals sense that she loves them, and even the meanest dogs will let her pet them and hug them. (Because dogs LOVE hugs, really they do.) She wants to be a vet when she grows up, and I have no doubt that she'll be a good one.
Fred Pickle
Fred Pickle was our first Beta. Don't remember where we got him. His name comes from a nickname (Fredwina Pickle) that I gave Leyden when she was a baby. The Pickle part is from an old friend of mine who used to say to me, "Sometimes you're dill, and sometimes you're sweet, but you're always a pickle." The Fred part just came out one day and stuck. We got Fred the First when we lived in our doublewide, and he was buried in the septic system. (NOTE: Toilet burial is not recommended for fish owned by small children, even with proper prayer and ceremony. I don't think Leyden ever got over seeing Fred the First swirl his way to the grave.)
Fred Pickle II
When Fred Pickle I died, it was only natural to name the next one Fred Pickle II. After all, Leyden was only about 4, and her creativity juices were just beginning to flow. I don't recall how Fred the Second died, but he is buried in the woods at the doublewide next to Ethel, the cockatoo Leyden got when she was 3, who died from cold. (NOTE: Birds don't like to be in a cold draft near the front door.) Fred the Second's funeral was pretty dramatic, what with Leyden's memories of Ethel's funeral resurfacing and the trauma! And horror! At losing her second fish! It really was heart-wrenching watching her mourn the scaly little guy.
Fredwina Pickle
Fredwina was a female Beta, so she had to have a girl name. I'm sure Leyden figured it was perfectly normal to name a girl Fredwina, since I've called her that all her life. Fredwina is buried at our old house way out in the country, with a rock headstone engraved with a Sharpie. The funeral for Fredwina was dramatic, as usual, but with fewer tears. By this time, I think Leyden had grown accustomed to fish funerals, but she was still sad to lose her friend.
Rainbow Fred Pickle
Rainbow Fred was named so because - you guessed it - he had a rainbow of colors on him. He was probably the most beautiful Beta we ever had. He is buried beside Fredwina, with a similar rock headstone engraved with a Sharpie. His funeral was the usual dramatic scene. He was her buddy, her pal. He lived in her room in a pretty bowl that had a light that we turned on at night.
Forever Fred Pickle
Forever Fred Pickle was a gift from Santa, all the way from the North Pole. He was named Forever Fred so he wouldn't die. Guess what? It didn't work. He's buried beside Fredwina and Rainbow Fred - no headstone. His burial was quick and almost painless, because it was pouring down rain outside. Leyden was still sad, because he was, after all, supposed to live FOREVER.
Speckled Fred Pickle
Speckled Fred actually was bought for my office when I worked for the A/E firm. We called him Spec because typing building specifications was one of the main things we did in my office. When I left the A/E firm, Spec came home with me and became Leyden's fish and enjoyed Forever Fred's company. Leyden re-named him, but because he was spotted, she decided to name him Speckled Fred so he could keep Spec for his nickname. (Because we can't have a fish that isn't named Fred. AND Pickle.) After Forever Fred died, Spec Fred was all alone in the kitchen. His last home was a Mason jar because, let's face it, who has cutesy decorative fish bowls in the country? It just doesn't go with the decor. Spec Fred died when Leyden was going through a particularly trying time (this was obviously before April 17th, when Leyden started to become real familiar with stress and stress managment skills). So, I wrapped Spec Fred in a paper towel, placed him in a sandwich bag and put him in the deep freeze to preserve him until Leyden could handle the news of his death and assist in a proper burial. Because that is what any good mother would do. Leyden never missed him. Oh, and Spec Fred's funeral? It hasn't taken place yet. So he's still in my deep freeze. Please don't tell my mother.
Now we just have a dog. They live longer.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
The Valleys...
The valleys, they are deep.
The valleys, they are dark.
The valleys, they are long.
My God, He is with me.
My God, He is light.
My God, He is strong.
I can honestly say that I only remember a few valleys in life until now - my first marriage, my divorce, single parenthood, being laid off from work. And I can't compare the valleys. They are nothing alike, except for all of them being deep, dark, and long. But this valley seems to be deeper, darker, and longer. Maybe because I am tired. But God is faithful and has never, ever left me, even when I turned my back on Him. He has walked beside me, and oftentimes carried me, through every valley I have ever faced.
Three months ago, I would have never thought that I would be sitting here tonight, contemplating the fourth funeral in a little over two months. When Grandaddy died, it was a shock and truly a draining time. Emotionally, mentally, physically - I was exhausted. That's when I fell off the mountaintop and down into the valley. When Papa Clifford died, I was still in shock from Grandaddy's death and it really just washed over me and blended in with the grief I was already experiencing.
My favorite song became one of Casting Crowns' hits: "...I'll praise the God who gives, and the God who takes away... I will praise You in this storm."
Papa Clifford's death brought about significant changes in our everyday lives, challenges to be faced daily. Mom picked Leyden up from school everyday and was planning on keeping her for me this summer. With one last breath, all those plans changed. Since Papa Clifford took care of Mom's mother (who has Alzheimer's), an immediate caretaker was needed. Mom had been staying with Grand Brown while Papa Clifford was in the hospital, so she just started staying for longer periods of time. (Grand Brown lives two and a half hours away.) Leyden has a stressful, crazy, mixed-up schedule this summer due to the fact that I hadn't budgeted for summer child care expenses; I can only afford day care two days a week. She stays with friends of mine a couple of days a week, and she stays with Mom when she is home. I have to keep a calendar of where she is everyday just so I will know where to drop her off and where to pick her up. This is a trying time for her, because her familiar routine is gone.
The day that Papa Clifford died, Dad's mom (Gran) was admitted to the hospital. She stayed there until May 23rd. The valley got a little deeper. Gran was doing okay, but not great. She got to feeling bad two weeks ago, and my aunt and uncle took her to the ER the day before Charles died. They admitted her straight to CCU. She was put in a regular room about a week ago. They took her off some of her medication and she had some bad reactions. Gran's a fighter, but I know she's tired. I worry about her. I also worry about my uncle, who takes care of her. (Gran lives two and a half hours away, about 20 miles from Grand Brown.) It's hard being so far away from her when she is so sick. With Leyden's schedule (softball, cheerleading, piano) and my work, I can't be with her as much as I want to be. It's hard. I have to trust God to be with her and comfort her and give her peace.
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. Thy rod and they staff, they comfort me." from Psalm 23
I thought I'd had all I can take - the death of both of my grandfathers within one week, a sick grandmother, a grandmother with Alzheimer's, my Mom running up and down the road taking care of her mother, my Dad losing his father and his best friend within two and a half months. I thought the valley couldn't get any deeper.
Now, I'm in a deep crevice at the bottom of the valley... Papa is gone.
Don't get me wrong - it isn't completely dark in this valley... God is light. And He is here with me. But it's still a valley. One of my childhood Sunday School teachers, Miss Penny, was at Papa Charlie's funeral, and I told her that I don't know what God is trying to show me, but I want to hurry up and learn it. She said something so simple, yet I couldn't have come up with it on my own: "We need the valleys to appreciate the mountaintop experiences." AMEN. Can I get an AMEN?
I've been livin' on my mountaintop so long that I forgot what it was like to march along in these dark valleys. I guess it's about time I remembered. And to those of you who are in a valley, take heart - YOU ARE NOT ALONE. God's not afraid of the dark, and He certainly doesn't mind going with you down in a valley. He'll even carry you when times get the toughest. If you don't already know Him, just ask Him to come into your heart and dwell there forever. Put Him first in your life and let Him lead you. (Sounds crazy, I know, but trust me, He knows what He's doing.) Seek His Word in the Bible, and He'll speak to you if you just open your heart and be still in His presence.
Hang in there, valley travelers, and look to God for strength, peace, mercy, grace, and rest. He's got'em all. And He gives freely.
I will praise Him in the morning, as I face another day.
I will praise Him when I go to bed, though I don't understand His ways.
I will praise Him with grieving tears, mourning another soul passed away.
I will praise Him with all my heart; I will praise him come what may.
The valleys, they are dark.
The valleys, they are long.
My God, He is with me.
My God, He is light.
My God, He is strong.
I can honestly say that I only remember a few valleys in life until now - my first marriage, my divorce, single parenthood, being laid off from work. And I can't compare the valleys. They are nothing alike, except for all of them being deep, dark, and long. But this valley seems to be deeper, darker, and longer. Maybe because I am tired. But God is faithful and has never, ever left me, even when I turned my back on Him. He has walked beside me, and oftentimes carried me, through every valley I have ever faced.
Three months ago, I would have never thought that I would be sitting here tonight, contemplating the fourth funeral in a little over two months. When Grandaddy died, it was a shock and truly a draining time. Emotionally, mentally, physically - I was exhausted. That's when I fell off the mountaintop and down into the valley. When Papa Clifford died, I was still in shock from Grandaddy's death and it really just washed over me and blended in with the grief I was already experiencing.
My favorite song became one of Casting Crowns' hits: "...I'll praise the God who gives, and the God who takes away... I will praise You in this storm."
Papa Clifford's death brought about significant changes in our everyday lives, challenges to be faced daily. Mom picked Leyden up from school everyday and was planning on keeping her for me this summer. With one last breath, all those plans changed. Since Papa Clifford took care of Mom's mother (who has Alzheimer's), an immediate caretaker was needed. Mom had been staying with Grand Brown while Papa Clifford was in the hospital, so she just started staying for longer periods of time. (Grand Brown lives two and a half hours away.) Leyden has a stressful, crazy, mixed-up schedule this summer due to the fact that I hadn't budgeted for summer child care expenses; I can only afford day care two days a week. She stays with friends of mine a couple of days a week, and she stays with Mom when she is home. I have to keep a calendar of where she is everyday just so I will know where to drop her off and where to pick her up. This is a trying time for her, because her familiar routine is gone.
The day that Papa Clifford died, Dad's mom (Gran) was admitted to the hospital. She stayed there until May 23rd. The valley got a little deeper. Gran was doing okay, but not great. She got to feeling bad two weeks ago, and my aunt and uncle took her to the ER the day before Charles died. They admitted her straight to CCU. She was put in a regular room about a week ago. They took her off some of her medication and she had some bad reactions. Gran's a fighter, but I know she's tired. I worry about her. I also worry about my uncle, who takes care of her. (Gran lives two and a half hours away, about 20 miles from Grand Brown.) It's hard being so far away from her when she is so sick. With Leyden's schedule (softball, cheerleading, piano) and my work, I can't be with her as much as I want to be. It's hard. I have to trust God to be with her and comfort her and give her peace.
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. Thy rod and they staff, they comfort me." from Psalm 23
I thought I'd had all I can take - the death of both of my grandfathers within one week, a sick grandmother, a grandmother with Alzheimer's, my Mom running up and down the road taking care of her mother, my Dad losing his father and his best friend within two and a half months. I thought the valley couldn't get any deeper.
Now, I'm in a deep crevice at the bottom of the valley... Papa is gone.
Don't get me wrong - it isn't completely dark in this valley... God is light. And He is here with me. But it's still a valley. One of my childhood Sunday School teachers, Miss Penny, was at Papa Charlie's funeral, and I told her that I don't know what God is trying to show me, but I want to hurry up and learn it. She said something so simple, yet I couldn't have come up with it on my own: "We need the valleys to appreciate the mountaintop experiences." AMEN. Can I get an AMEN?
I've been livin' on my mountaintop so long that I forgot what it was like to march along in these dark valleys. I guess it's about time I remembered. And to those of you who are in a valley, take heart - YOU ARE NOT ALONE. God's not afraid of the dark, and He certainly doesn't mind going with you down in a valley. He'll even carry you when times get the toughest. If you don't already know Him, just ask Him to come into your heart and dwell there forever. Put Him first in your life and let Him lead you. (Sounds crazy, I know, but trust me, He knows what He's doing.) Seek His Word in the Bible, and He'll speak to you if you just open your heart and be still in His presence.
Hang in there, valley travelers, and look to God for strength, peace, mercy, grace, and rest. He's got'em all. And He gives freely.
I will praise Him in the morning, as I face another day.
I will praise Him when I go to bed, though I don't understand His ways.
I will praise Him with grieving tears, mourning another soul passed away.
I will praise Him with all my heart; I will praise him come what may.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Goodbye, Papa
You know that heavy heart I keep talking about? Well, it's hit rock bottom, I think.
Tonight, I got a phone call around 10:30. My ex-husband's grandfather passed away this evening. He has had leukemia for a couple of years, and has been struggling. He was weak and tired. He died in his sleep, peaceful and straight into the arms of Jesus. Papa was ready, I have no doubt. He loved God and it showed in his life and his personality. After my ex-husband and I divorced, his family never treated me any differently. Grannie and Papa were still Grannie and Papa, it didn't matter if our last names were the same or different. Papa had 11 grandchildren, and six of them were adopted. He was a special person; his heart was filled with love.
Like my Grandaddy, Papa loved to tell stories and wrote a lot of books about his life. He always had a story if you'd listen. Papa loved pulling little packs of Wrigley's gum out of the kids' ears; Leyden always had a pack of gum when she came home from seeing Papa. Papa loved each grandchild and each great-grandchild like they were the only one he had. They were all special to him, and he had plenty of love to go around.
This great patriarch will be missed terribly. His legacy lives on in those he loved so dearly.
Tonight, I got a phone call around 10:30. My ex-husband's grandfather passed away this evening. He has had leukemia for a couple of years, and has been struggling. He was weak and tired. He died in his sleep, peaceful and straight into the arms of Jesus. Papa was ready, I have no doubt. He loved God and it showed in his life and his personality. After my ex-husband and I divorced, his family never treated me any differently. Grannie and Papa were still Grannie and Papa, it didn't matter if our last names were the same or different. Papa had 11 grandchildren, and six of them were adopted. He was a special person; his heart was filled with love.
Like my Grandaddy, Papa loved to tell stories and wrote a lot of books about his life. He always had a story if you'd listen. Papa loved pulling little packs of Wrigley's gum out of the kids' ears; Leyden always had a pack of gum when she came home from seeing Papa. Papa loved each grandchild and each great-grandchild like they were the only one he had. They were all special to him, and he had plenty of love to go around.
This great patriarch will be missed terribly. His legacy lives on in those he loved so dearly.
Goodbye, Papa Charlie
Okay, so the last time I posted, I was heavy hearted. Well, now I know that I just THOUGHT I was heavy hearted. Last Friday, June 22, Mom and Dad's best friend, Charles, passed away. His funeral was Tuesday. Charles had heart surgery between my grandfathers' funerals in April. He never recovered. His family was able to take him home about three hours before he died, and Dad was able to see him about five minutes before he passed away from this life into heaven. Here's a little background on what Charles meant to me and my family...
When my parents moved us here in 1979, we didn't know a soul. My father took a job at the A/E firm where I worked last year. He met Charles, and they became friends. Of course, their wives also became friends. It didn't take long for those friends to become like family. We grew up here, and Jean and Charles were a part of life. We spent many hours at their house, and they spent many hours at ours. Their kids babysat us when we were young. Jean kept Leyden during the day for the first year of her life. My parents traveled to Virginia with Jean and Charles to see Jean's family a few times. Charles loved Cheaha State Park, and every year on Labor Day weekend, his family camps out there. In tents. And they cook over open fire. When we were young, Jean and Charles invited us to join them for one of these infamous camping trips. And our lives were forever changed.
I have many wonderful memories of Cheaha - whole wads of us kids playing around the campsite. There are awesome trails at Cheaha, and a nice lake with paddle boats and a diving platform. Marshmallows never tested better than the ones roasted on an open fire at Cheaha. We only went a few times when I was a child. I don't know why we didn't go anymore, we just didn't. And I really didn't think about it until last year, when Leyden was 9 and full of life. For some reason, I told Jean I wanted to go to Cheaha and take Leyden.
I bought a small tent, and a queen size air mattress that fills up the entire tent. (No kidding.) I also bought a ceiling fan for my tent. Don't laugh - it clips to the top of the tent and has foam blades and a light in the middle. And it works. I wouldn't take anything for my ceiling fan. Mom and Dad were supposed to buy their own tent and air mattress, but somewhere along the way, another of Dad's friends, Charlie, decided that he and Dad would go to a football game that weekend, so he would join us later. (Priorities in the South = 1. Football, 2. Football, 3. Football... you get the idea.) So, Mom and I decided that she could just share the queen size mattress with me and Leyden and save them some trouble. It worked out great, and I have to say that although I wouldn't call Mom an outdoorsman, she is definitely a great sport. She slept in that tent and traipsed around that campground like nobody's business. (And did I mention that when we went to Orlando in May, we got her to ride Test Track at Epcot? Mom is a trooper.)
Leyden enjoyed the campground way of life, the walks around the park, swimming in the lake and the ice cold pool, and blazing a trail through the woods. She loved the campfire and the food and the fellowship of friends by the fire. She loved riding in the back of the pickup to cut firewood. She loved eating boiled peanuts for no reason at all. Leyden, my friends, is as good an outdoorsman as the next girl.
No one knew that Labor Day 2006 would be the last camping trip for Charles. Labor Day 2007 is going to be bittersweet, as one of Charles' daughters put it. And she's right. Charles LOVED Cheaha; it was his place. He was the reason the whole family started going there in the first place. After all the tents were up and the "kitchen tent" was set, he piddled with the extension cords, put up clamp lights and moved them all around, poked at the fire. Last year, he even cut firewood. With a chainsaw. While I sat in the back of the pickup thinking he would cut off an appendage. When we left the funeral, Leyden said, "Mom, who's gonna eat boiled peanuts with me at Cheaha?" I'll eat boiled peanuts with her, but it won't be the same. Papa Charlie just had a way about him. As Leyden pointed out to me, Charles was the first one up every morning. And he loved every minute he got to enjoy Cheaha. We're going to miss his smile and his enthusiasm, and his piddlin'.
Yes, 2007 will be bittersweet... when the sun rises each morning at Cheaha, I'll remember Papa Charlie and think of what the view must be like from heaven.
When my parents moved us here in 1979, we didn't know a soul. My father took a job at the A/E firm where I worked last year. He met Charles, and they became friends. Of course, their wives also became friends. It didn't take long for those friends to become like family. We grew up here, and Jean and Charles were a part of life. We spent many hours at their house, and they spent many hours at ours. Their kids babysat us when we were young. Jean kept Leyden during the day for the first year of her life. My parents traveled to Virginia with Jean and Charles to see Jean's family a few times. Charles loved Cheaha State Park, and every year on Labor Day weekend, his family camps out there. In tents. And they cook over open fire. When we were young, Jean and Charles invited us to join them for one of these infamous camping trips. And our lives were forever changed.
I have many wonderful memories of Cheaha - whole wads of us kids playing around the campsite. There are awesome trails at Cheaha, and a nice lake with paddle boats and a diving platform. Marshmallows never tested better than the ones roasted on an open fire at Cheaha. We only went a few times when I was a child. I don't know why we didn't go anymore, we just didn't. And I really didn't think about it until last year, when Leyden was 9 and full of life. For some reason, I told Jean I wanted to go to Cheaha and take Leyden.
I bought a small tent, and a queen size air mattress that fills up the entire tent. (No kidding.) I also bought a ceiling fan for my tent. Don't laugh - it clips to the top of the tent and has foam blades and a light in the middle. And it works. I wouldn't take anything for my ceiling fan. Mom and Dad were supposed to buy their own tent and air mattress, but somewhere along the way, another of Dad's friends, Charlie, decided that he and Dad would go to a football game that weekend, so he would join us later. (Priorities in the South = 1. Football, 2. Football, 3. Football... you get the idea.) So, Mom and I decided that she could just share the queen size mattress with me and Leyden and save them some trouble. It worked out great, and I have to say that although I wouldn't call Mom an outdoorsman, she is definitely a great sport. She slept in that tent and traipsed around that campground like nobody's business. (And did I mention that when we went to Orlando in May, we got her to ride Test Track at Epcot? Mom is a trooper.)
Leyden enjoyed the campground way of life, the walks around the park, swimming in the lake and the ice cold pool, and blazing a trail through the woods. She loved the campfire and the food and the fellowship of friends by the fire. She loved riding in the back of the pickup to cut firewood. She loved eating boiled peanuts for no reason at all. Leyden, my friends, is as good an outdoorsman as the next girl.
No one knew that Labor Day 2006 would be the last camping trip for Charles. Labor Day 2007 is going to be bittersweet, as one of Charles' daughters put it. And she's right. Charles LOVED Cheaha; it was his place. He was the reason the whole family started going there in the first place. After all the tents were up and the "kitchen tent" was set, he piddled with the extension cords, put up clamp lights and moved them all around, poked at the fire. Last year, he even cut firewood. With a chainsaw. While I sat in the back of the pickup thinking he would cut off an appendage. When we left the funeral, Leyden said, "Mom, who's gonna eat boiled peanuts with me at Cheaha?" I'll eat boiled peanuts with her, but it won't be the same. Papa Charlie just had a way about him. As Leyden pointed out to me, Charles was the first one up every morning. And he loved every minute he got to enjoy Cheaha. We're going to miss his smile and his enthusiasm, and his piddlin'.
Yes, 2007 will be bittersweet... when the sun rises each morning at Cheaha, I'll remember Papa Charlie and think of what the view must be like from heaven.
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