If Only...

If only...

If only I had time to see,
if  time would wait for me,
then I would, I'm sure
give glory to the Giver.
Give praise for what I see.
Give thanks for all that's given,
but deadlines beckon me.

If only I would stop and listen,
take time so I could hear.
If only life would wait for me,
then I would, I'm sure,
listen to the music
that The Giver has given me.

But friends and family beckon.
Urgent moments drain my all.
So how can I still listen?
Still hear?
How can I see?

For this I should be grateful.
For all I should give praise.
I must take pause,
be still because,
What if...
God hadn't given to me?


Someone once said that the hard times define us, destroy us, or strengthen us.  Think I'll choose two out of those three:  define & strengthen, even though some days I wobble on the brink of disaster.

For me, the brink is built upon exhaustion:  physical and emotional.  For some reason the two go hand in hand, and they dare to pull each other over the edge.   But, like I said, I will choose to be defined or strengthened... not destroyed, for once destroyed, I cannot go back and try again.

Someone once said, "when you fall out of the saddle, climb back on it."  So, I do.  And, I have.  And now I ask just how many MORE times do I have to do that?  The answer is, of course... every time.  Every bloomin', every stinkin', every cotton-pickin' time!

Alas, if only I were "perfect".  If only I could enjoy all the "saddle rides", and if only I could enjoy the view from the "edge of brink".  Seems to me that these "if only's" are mere excuses for not doing what should be done.  They waste time.  They waste energy.  And they consume a part of me that is needed elsewhere.

So, I shall cease balking.  I shall quit procrastinating.  I shall stop whining.  I shall, and I will.  I will because it's all so much easier to handle when I take time, when I make time to be still... and to know God.

King David once wrote, "Commit your way to the Lord;  trust in him and he will do this:  He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun.  Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him."  --Psalm 37:5-7

This is the way I look at it:  since this was the answer for King David, a mighty warrior and successful leader of tens of thousands, then why shouldn't it be the answer for me, a mere saddle-sore woman???  It's something to think about, for certain.

As I sign off and leave my desk, I go to get defined or strengthened, to find the music, to enjoy the view, and... just to be still, very, very still.

Thank you, God... for all you have given.

Sincerely,

Cindy Lou



@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Peanut Butter Crispies

Here's a fall snack that's extremely easy to prepare.  My suggestion:  buy 2 boxes of Rice Chex cereal because these disappear before you know it!

1 cup white Karo syrup
1 cup white granulated sugar
1 cup peanut butter, creamy or crunchy
1 box Rice Chex cereal


Simplest Directions:  melt the sugar, syrup & peanut butter in a big sauce pan.   Add cereal.  Stir until coated.  Pour out in mounds.  Let cool.

My Way:  Pour out half the cereal into a large mixing bowl.  In sauce pan, combine karo syrup and sugar until melted together.  Stir in peanut butter until well blended. Pour half of peanut butter syrup over cereal.  Quickly add remaining cereal, then syrup mixture.  Stir until cereal is coated. Scoop spoonful sizes onto wax paper.  Let cool.  Store in airtight container to stay fresh.


This is a delicious light snack that my niece shared at our family reunion.  It's very difficult to eat just one, so beware... it is addictive!

@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Will I Wake Up?

Question #1:  Will I wake up?
Answer:  Yes.
My Reply: Great!

Question #2:  If so, will I still be me?
Answer:  Yes.
Reply:  Darn.

I did wake up after a successful surgery.  The wearing-out body has been repaired, and I am on the mend, just about ready to take on the world.  But before I do, I have to figure out which "world" it will be. Will it be my "old world", the things I did prior to surgery, or will it be the "new world", the things yet to be discovered and experienced?

I had hoped that when I awakened after surgery, that I would be a blessedly different woman:  forty pounds lighter, twenty years younger, and ten times smarter would have been lovely.  I thought it possible that my vocal range might even increase an octave or two and that the novel brewing inside of me just might emerge, finally.  I dreamed that I just might wake up as a new, exciting woman... maybe even one that is mysterious and enticing, so much so that reporters clamor to ask me questions about who I am and photographers anxiously await my appearance, hoping to frame a snippet of me that no one else has ever seen.

That was the desired outcome.  It didn't happen.  There were no photographers, no reporters, no paparazzi.  I am not younger:  I actually am older.  I have not lost forty pounds:  maybe four.  I am not mysterious:  I am, pretty much, an open book, and certainly the idea of writing a novel must have been propelled by pain medications, or by the pain itself.  I don't know where that idea came from.

But, I did wake up, and I did wake up "blessed"...that, I know.  The desired changes didn't happen.  I am still "me", and "me" is what I have to work with.  So, I'm just going to have to get over my disappointment, trust God, deal with the reality, and change my attitude.  And, who knows... someday, I may give them something to write about, after all.

So, let's start over...

Question #1:  Will I wake up?
Answer:  Yes.
My Reply: Great!

Question #2:  If so, will I still be me? 
Answer:  Yes. 
Reply:  How about that... let's celebrate!

Look out world, old & new... here I come!

Sincerely,
Cindy Lou



@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

September

September

Temperatures drop.
Tempers cool.
Dust rides the breeze.
Summer's scorn still scorches
Earth, lakes...memories.

Grasslands beg for mercy.
Sun-dried soil's too dry to weep.
But, I believe in Texas
September does not sleep.

Press on, my state of Texas.
Oh, bend your stubborn knees.
Seek him who sends September...
Seek him who never sleeps.

Oh, long, long sought September...
Send rain, stop drought,
Break heat.
Oh, God, who sends September...
Restore, remember... me.
             --Cindy Lou Hodges

                          
One of the worst droughts in history is plaguing  my home state of Texas.  Record heat waves of temperatures 100 degrees or higher wreck havoc upon health, agriculture and ranching industries.  For nature, there is no escape from the sweltering heat, other than rain... blessed rain.  Let us return to our roots of faith, as we fall down in prayer and humbly ask God to send us rain... sweet, blessed rain.  

Praise God from whom all blessings flow!  Blessed be the name of the Lord...!

    
                 
                        __________________________________________

                                            SCRIPTURE REFRENCES

"Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed.  The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.  Elias was a man subject to like passions as we are, and he prayed earnestly that it might not rain:  and it rained not on the earth by the space of three years and six months.  And he prayed again, and the heaven gave rain, and the earth brought forth her fruit."
--Holy Bible, James 5:16-18

"For the eyes of the Lord are over the righteous, and his ears are open unto their prayers:  but the face of the Lord is against them that do evil."
--Holy Bible, I Peter 3:12

"And I say unto you, Ask and it shall be given you;  seek and ye shall find;  knock, and it shall be opened unto you."  --Holy Bible, Luke 11:9

                        __________________________________________


@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Dear Dimple: Twisties

Dear Dimple Dilemma,

Where have all the twisties gone?  You know, those little three inch wire things covered with paper?  Whenever I am at the grocery store, bagging my fruits & vegetables, I reach for a twistie, but the container is empty!  So, I move on down the aisle to another roll of plastic bags to get a twistie, but there aren't any there either!  Then, when I am at home, toasting a piece of bread or two... I reach for the twistie that I just took off the loaf of bread... but, it's gone!  I can't find it anywhere!

So, tell me... What on earth happens to all the twisties?  Is it just me or are there "twistie thieves" out among us?

Sincerely,
Cindy Lou


Dear Cindy Lou,

Rest assured, dear, that you are not the only one that has twistie troubles.  Why, I, too, suffer with the same stressful situation.  However, there have been a few times that I hit the jackpot at the grocery store and happened upon full cups of white, or yellow, or black, or green or even gold twisties.  When that happens, it is time to take action.

Do as I do... go to the store early in the day.  Your chances of finding a full cup are greater in the morning; Monday morning, Tuesday morning, Wednesday... as many days as it takes to find them.   When you do finally see the prized trophies, grab all you can, and cram them into your purse.  Did I mention you should take your biggest purse with you?  Or, if that bothers your conscious, you can wrap not just one twistie, but several twisties around your filled produce bag.  If you use a dozen twisties, you can turn them into a pretty little flower.  :)


Now, for your situation at home, gremlins or ghosts take the twistie as soon as you take your eyes & hands off of it.  They, too, suffer with a shortage of twisties.  So, for Pete's sake... smarten up and don't ever turn loose of your twistie!   That's the golden rule of the kitchen.... twisties are like gold in your pocket!  But, if that fails, and you just can't keep track of that one twistie, try duct tape.  It now comes in a rainbow of colors, and you can even color coordinate with your kitchen!

And finally, if none of the above suggestions work for you, come on over to my house.  I have outsmarted the conniving, little twistie thieves, and  I just happen to have some white ones, some yellow ones, some black ones, some green ones and even some gold ones.... Yep... I have a cupboard full!

Lovingly,
Dimple Dilemma


@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

The Prayer Meeting

He stared at her as if he could "eat her up", and they were in church!  Scandalous, I tell you... but, oh what a nice compliment!  She hadn't felt that special in a long, long time, and there was something in his eyes that made her long to look back at him... made her long to link gazes.  But, she didn't dare.

The prayer meeting crowd was smaller than usual, probably due to the summer heat and summer vacations, but those attending were somehow refreshed just by gathering together.  High numbers of people aren't required for the Spirit of God's presence:  humble hearts are.

She had never seen him before at church, so "he must be a visitor", she thought.  Most likely he was a relative of Matthew's, since they were sitting together.  He could even be Matthew's father.  They did resemble each other, and the age difference was fitting.  But, his stare made her uneasy.

She wondered if he thought he knew her.  She wondered if she had met him once before, but had somehow forgotten their friendship;  no, relationship... for this stare was more than just a glance. Many questions raced through her mind before he spoke, but none as persistent as the question, "Why is he so focused on me?"  

When they were introduced, his intensity continued as he asked her name.  He smiled and repeated her name, twice:  frontwards & backwards... then he commented on her matching silver jewelry.  She agreed that everything was silver except her wedding ring.  Nervously she held up her left hand showing the gold band, while giggling to cover up her discomfort.  Why had she offered this information?  Obviously he was fishing and she fell for it. "What a nitwit", she thought, disappointed in herself, not that she was married, but that she had not recognized a come on.

Gaining her composure, she changed the direction of their conversation by asking questions about him.  He was indeed Matthew's dad, and the more he spoke, the more she liked him.  Handsome looking in his khaki's and "tucked in" shirt, there was something captivating about his manner.  He spoke eloquently of his current life, lovingly about his Italian heritage,  and passionately about his war history.  He was a World War II veteran, and proud of it, as he should be.  "Navy?"  she asked.  "Yes, how did you know?" 

Then...  they were interrupted.  Their conversation was over.  A member of the congregation greeted him and thanked him for coming, while someone pulled her aside chatting about nothing important and certainly nothing memorable.  Sadly, she turned away from him, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw him glancing back... at her.

She still thinks about him.  He had a certain way about him that made her feel special, and... well, important... just by paying attention to her.  "It isn't forbidden, is it," she wonders,  "to enjoy feeling special?"

His gaze, his body language, his intensity... oh, they were powerful.  Probably four to five minutes is all they had together, but compared to a lifetime, that is such a brief moment.  World wars, cultural differences, twenty-five years of age, and her marriage separated them, but somehow, at that time and place...none of that  mattered.  For that four to five minutes, that one Wednesday night, they belonged to each other... and it made for a very, very interesting prayer meeting.




@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Rain

Rain

Long awaited,

longed for

rain.

Heaven's teardrops that we prayed

not sooner, not harder,

not longer for...

long awaited,

longed for

rain.

--Cindy Lou Hodges

Our state of Texas is suffering from one of the worst droughts in history.  Finally, it rained today.

"Praise God from whom all blessings flow...!"

@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Pink Plastic Plates

"You begin to move mountains when you start carrying away small stones."

                                                  -  Doris A. Dillon, Randleman, North Carolina

What I call the "Pink" plate!

I think she was talking about my kitchen counter.  Have you seen my bar lately?  Of course not.  You can't possibly see it because of all the clutter that's on top of it!  Yesterday I saw it as my mountain.  Today I see it as... well, shoot.  It's still my mountain... and a darn, BIG one!

Others might view it as a dumpster:  some, a treasure chest... still others, a laundry basket.  I don't dare drop clean underwear on it, but single black socks get dropped there all the time, waiting for the missing mates.  Eye glasses are supposed to be there, but I can never find a pair that has both lenses still intact.  Receipts, recipes, coupons... you name it... it's all there.  Library books sit there so long that they have to be returned before they are opened, and silk floral arrangements sit there until they sprout roots.

I did make progress this morning, though.  Yesterday my mother asked me about the pile of plates on the bar, and it embarrassed me that my mother hinted at what I should do.  So, when she makes it into the kitchen today, she will see that I have dealt with the issue, one at least.

The stack of 12 plastic melamine plates, the new ones from Target, is now a stack of eight.  I finally decided that I have not been able to decide what to do with them because I don't want to say goodbye to the four pink ones.  I like them.  They are really pretty, and, "No, I don't have anything else pink in my kitchen."  But, I like them... and after only three months, I realized that!  So, I jerked off the stickers, and now they are mine to keep.  The others... well, they are rather weird looking with their navy blue & white swirls, and I'm already sick of looking at them.  They make me dizzy.  I hope the store will take them back.  If not, maybe I can use them as a "Get Well" present for someone.  Maybe not.

Anyway, I have moved stones today:  stones disguised as dinnerware.  And... if I deal with the eight "weird"  plates, and return them to the store, and if I wash and put in the cupboard the four pink plates... then, I will have dealt with a dozen items... a dozen stones.  That's a pretty good number, don't you think?  And, a darn good accomplishment for a procrastinator who is really skilled at her profession.

Wonder if I could make a living at procrastinating... hmmm...  that would take some creative thinking, and I am good at that. But, I'll think about that a little bit later.  Right now,  I have eight plates to bag, four plastic plates to wash... the four pink, plastic ones...and stones hanging around my neck that are really bothering me. I think it's time to deal with them, and I really should do something about them.

Know anybody that needs a droopy silk floral arrangement?
Seen any extra black socks?
Even one?

Changing the world, one stone at a time...
Cindy Lou



p.s.  Thank you, Lord, that I have the time to sit and think about such little things.  Direct me towards your purpose today, and help me sort through the issues that matter and those that don't.  Direct my feet, direct my actions, and fill my heart with your goodness so that what I "dish out" today will be filled with your love.  I want to do better... really, I do, but I can't do it by myself.  Thank you, Jesus... Amen.

@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Heaven & Hope

In her last few days of waking up from fourteen hour naps, she confirmed that there is a heaven.  Many gifts she gave to me, gifts for me to keep.  But this gift, this gift I dare not keep to myself.  This gift is to be shared.  So, allow me to share my Aunt Lucy with you...

Aunt Lucy had no children of her own, so she treated us nieces and nephews as royalty.  And, when her health crisis struck, we were there for her:  taking turns sitting with her at the hospital and the nursing facility.  The doctors told us that most likely she would live only a few more weeks, but Aunt Lucy had other ideas.  She lingered for more than three months.

Those months wore on and on.  We were exhausted from our sleepless nights, we were frazzled from dealing with incompetent health care workers, and we were brokenhearted that this was how Aunt Lucy was living her last days on earth.  She had no pain, surprisingly.  For this we were grateful.

Since I did not handle the night shift very well (too many noises and interruptions), the morning shift became mine.  I was there as the morning light sifted through the blinds, wondering what each day would bring.  And to my amazement, Aunt Lucy's waking murmurs intimately described what she was experiencing.

With eyelids still closed from sleeping, she clearly spoke, "Oh, how beautiful... oh, how beautiful!" over and over again.  Not just one day, but several days in a row.  As this new phenomenon continued, her intensity of sharing grew.  I would sit as close to her as possible, taking in her every word, making sure I understood what she was saying.  I understood the words.  I never questioned their meaning.  I only questioned why I was the  chosen one to be by her side during these times.

Another morning as she awakened, she clearly said,  "Oh, there's Mama.  She's waving to me.  She looks so pretty.  She's standing by the gate.  Oh, how beautiful... oh, how beautiful!"  Then she would drift back to sleep for a short, peaceful nap.

Now, I know it is just our human nature to see our mothers as we near death.  It is a completion of  life's cycle. But the next vision she shared makes even the skeptics stop and give pause.  Lucy saw someone else awaiting her... someone else waving to her.  It was her Aunt Claudie.

The family had not told Lucy about her aunt's passing away three months prior.  Not to agitate or upset her, we had kept it secret from her that we buried her Aunt Claudie on the day of  Lucy's own surgery.  It was a difficult, sad day for us...  burying one Auntie, maybe saying goodbye to another.  But, we rallied together and, somehow, kept going.

In her vision, Claudie also was standing by the gate, waving... "Oh, there's Aunt Claudie... She looks so pretty.  What a pretty dress.  Oh, how beautiful... oh, how beautiful!"  Then she continued to awaken and become part of this earthly world again, her visions fading and her smile weakening.  Clearly, our beloved aunt was straddling the line between two worlds.  She drifted from one to the other with ease and grace, and all we could do was hold her hand and offer her chips of ice.

As for me, my spirit soared with joy and the affirmation that there is a heaven, and that I will see my loved ones once again!  But, my tears could not stop, and I could not define the line between tears of sadness and tears of joy.  How do you separate the two since they are joined by the heart?  I knew that I had been given a glimpse of glory and of what is, and what is to come for all of us believers!  But that gift came with a price, and it cost me my Aunt... cost all of us our beloved Lucy.  To this day, I still think, "What an incredible experience given to me in that one small room, stuck in a corner, in a nursing home in the little town of Calera, Oklahoma!"

The last comment Aunt Lucy shared made me dig in my Bible.  And sure enough, I found in *Revelation 5:8 what she was experiencing.  "Oh, how beautiful..." she whispered.  And smiling she said, "Mmmm... it smells so good."  "Can you smell it?"  she asked.  "It smells so sweet.  Oh, oh... oh, how beautiful!"

And, then late one evening... her earthly body wore out, and she left us. Her spirit went on to that beautiful place, but she did not leave us hopeless.  I know that she joined Jesus, and I know that she had loved ones waiting for her, because she told me so.  What a joyous reunion it must have been... one planned and blessed by God!

So, my friend, since Aunt Lucy so willingly and lovingly shared who she was and what she saw... I pass this on to you.  I don't want her to be forgotten, and her message must live on.   She gave us all many gifts, but the greatest gift of all is the gift of hope!   There is a Savior, and He has prepared a place for us... a beautiful one with my loving Grandmother and my aunties... one that smells so sweet... and one that has a gate!

Now, that's a promise... "Oh, oh... oh, how beautiful!"

Sincerely,
Cindy Lou


* "...and they were holding golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints."  --Holy Bible, Revelation 5:8  (This is what Aunt Lucy was smelling that smelled so sweet.)

 
"Do not let your hearts be troubled.  Trust in God, trust also in me.  In my Father's house are many rooms;  if it were not so, I would have told you.  I am going there to prepare a place for you.  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am."  --Holy Bible, John 14:1-3
(This verse is one Aunt Lucy used to comfort us before her surgery.  She quoted it from memory.)


Verses for reference:


"For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God..."  --Holy Bible... Romans 3: 23

"For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord." 
-- Holy Bible... Romans 6:23

"Jesus answered, 'I am the way and the truth and the life.  No one comes to the Father except through me.' "   --Holy Bible... John 14: 6

"That if you confess with your mouth, 'Jesus is Lord,' and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved."  --Holy Bible... Romans 10:9




@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

My Morning Prayer...

Morning calls as dove greet dawn.
I arise, not knowing what day may bring.
Aware I am
that I can choose
just how I shall join in
with family, friends, with tasks, and toil
for I am alive....
let my day begin.

I can be a stumbling block,
a stump, a stick in the mud.

I can be a babbling brook.
Babbling I do well.

Perhaps the breeze is calling me
to join in its ballet...

Or fire, oh the mighty flame
devouring its prey...

Or light that shines,
illuminates,
presses darkness to its grave.

What life give I upon this day?
That's for me to say.

--Cindy Lou Hodges

Heavenly Father, only you can provide what I need today, and I praise you for your mercy and goodness.  Thank you, Lord, for lifting me, once again.  May I do the same for others and do it with a cheerful heart.

Sincerely me...
Cindy Lou

@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Car Wash Blues

Today I got the car washed.
'Twas a big, big job

'cause it was really dirty.

It had caked-on blobs...

Blobs of greasy, grimy dirt

and lots and lots of mud.
Boy, was that car dirty
with the slush and slime and crud...

Crud from all the city streets,

the ones they're working on
with the trenchers and the asphalt.
Oh, when will they be gone?

Gone to other streets in town

so someone else can sob,

Cindy Lou

"Today I got the car washed...

'Twas a big, big job!"


@Copyright 1988, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

The Question

Doctors' waiting rooms:  a menagerie of different folks forced to cohabitate together until their name is called!

Yesterday I shared the waiting room with three pairs of people.  A young grandmother and her preteen grand daughter were the quiet ones.  They smiled at me.  Across the room sat the middle age woman with her flaming red hair, her laptop, and her senior male companion.  They were recanting his medical history, details and all, as she documented his history.  Pleeze.  They were oblivious to their rudeness:  oblivious to their crudeness.  They ignored me.  I wished I could have done the same.

Then there was the sullen-looking couple who sat right behind me, the backs of our chairs unmercifully rubbing each other.  My mother sat beside me, her wheelchair placed in the only available space.  So, there I sat filling out the medical forms when I heard the woman behind me say, "Would you say I am a person who keeps her word?"  I dared not turn around, but what a strange question to just blurt out to someone.  Surely she wasn't talking to me, but there was no response from the man directly behind me.  So, after a long quiet spell, she asked her question again, just a little bit louder, "Would you say that I am a person who keeps her word?"  Still no response.

The third time she said it with some attitude, "WOULD YOU SAY THAT I AM A PERSON WHO KEEPS HER WORD?"  He finally said, "What did you say?"  Good gosh, she had to say it again, and this time he retorted,  "Huh?".

I felt like I was in a twilight zone, and all the exit doors had been sealed tight.  The ventilation had seemed to stop, and the fluorescent lights were dancing in circles.  There was no way out.  I was forced to experience this human behavior of humans I had never seen before and never wanted to see again.  My gut instinct was to turn around and yell to the man, "She said... 'Would you say that I am a person who keeps her word?'  Well, is she?  Huh, Huh?  The answer is either yes or no!"

But, before I could whip around in my chair and blurt it out, she interrupted my thoughts and yelled, "Is this your good ear or your bad ear?"  "My gosh, if it's his good ear, I am so out of here... I am bustin' a hole in the wall and runnin' like hell.  What on earth is wrong with these people???"

Finally, without any prodding from me, her bellowing  made contact with his brain.  He understand her question, and he barked, "Yea.".  And, thank goodness, that was it.  She did not ask any more questions. It was over.  I didn't hear another word from either of them, and I didn't feel any more chair movements from behind.  And, as protocol dictates, all of us sitting in the room, pretended nothing had just happened.

What a weird, uncomfortable situation.  I don't know who I felt the worst for:  her, him, or me.  But, it was "real life drama", and the effort spent on obtaining that one answer seems such a waste.  If we could have channeled all that hot air in the room, we could have generated enough electricity to cool the entire building, and a burst of fresh air certainly would have been welcomed.  I find it strange that the poor woman had to ask someone else what she should have already known about herself.  Had she not explored herself enough to know the answer?   How sad, truly sad.

It seems that I find myself in some very uncomfortable places lately, you know... places that are not my normal comfort zone.  And I know we're supposed to keep a stiff upper lip, keep forging ahead, make everyday a masterpiece, and learn to dance in the rain.  So, I keep telling myself, that I can do this.  I can go wherever I need to go, deal with whomever I need to deal with, and I can do whatever is required of me.  I can do this.  But, I think what disturbs me most about this "waiting room episode" is the fact that this rude, obnoxious, insensitive woman who invaded "my space", stirred up something inside me, something my conscious mind would rather not hear and would rather not face. 

Her question still echoes in my mind, but instead of directing the question to someone else, it's time to ask myself... ask myself boldly, bellowingly, strongly, softly, quietly, and then gently... "You say you can do this, Cindy, so... would you say that you are a person who keeps her word?" 

"Well, are you?"



@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

The Store

Yesterday I shopped.
Yesterday I bought
shiny, bright and blingy things
and boldly printed tops.

Oh, they were so pretty.
They made me feel so good.
Then when at home and all alone
I thought that "Yes, I should..."

Model them and check them out
and try them on to see
which one of them I should wear first,
which one was best for me.

But something weird had happened.
It still confuses me:
Neither one was half the fun,
and both were quite UGG-LY.

No matter how I tugged or pulled
or beautifully accessorized,
those tops were bad.  It made me sad,
and then I realized...

The tags were there, were still intact.
I still had my receipt.
I didn't have to keep them.
This was no defeat.

So, back I'd go, with bag in hand
and a smile upon my face.
For now I get to shop again.
Gee, I love this place!

And once again when tomorrow comes,
when the dawn presents its day,
awakenings may happen.
Perhaps you'll hear me say...

"Yesterday I shopped.
Yesterday I bought
shiny, bright and blingy things
and boldly printed tops."

And, the beat goes on because some of us keep doing our part...

Sincerely a true story,
Cindy Lou


@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

She and Me

She annoyed me. This gentle looking, blue haired "Senior" really made me see red.  She was supposed to be helpful.  That's what hospital volunteers do:  they help people navigate their way through hospitals.  But, this one?  Well... I think she needs to stay home.

Can't figure out why I'm sharing this with you, other than to blow off some steam.  Or, maybe, I need to work through this, and see if I can learn anything from the experience.  I've always said that I can learn something from everyone, educated or uneducated.... so, let's see if that holds true, and I can "walk my talk" on this one.

We had spent the morning at the hospital getting blood tests done, so we had already experienced the routine of checking in at the front desk, waiting for our "buzzer" to flash and sound off, and being escorted to the blood lab.  Now, for the second time in one day, we were back with doctor's orders to have a unit of blood withdrawn.  It's a common procedure for someone with the blood disease Polycythemia-Vera, but not always easy for geriatric patients or someone with weak veins:  both of which Mama is, and Mama has.

Knowing the procedure might take a couple of hours, we went to the ladies' room... with the buzzer tucked in the side of my purse, that purse on my shoulder, both shoulders pushing Mama's wheelchair.  It's never easy going to a public restroom when you're in a wheelchair, and the simplest tasks are not simple at all.  But, you manage as best you can. 

While behind one of the inner "closed doors", we heard someone yell.  I ignored it.  But, then the yelling continued, and this time I understood my mother's last name.  "What?  ... what is she saying?"  So, as I  opened the door, this woman in the blue coat was standing at the big door with her hands on her hips.  She promptly huffed, "You're in here...  I have been looking all over for you!"

I didn't understand why she was so rude, so I replied... "But our buzzer hasn't gone off.  I've been listening for it."

"Well, they're ready for you, and I had to walk all over to find you!"

Totally aghast at her attitude, I tried to change the mood by light-heartedly saying, "When you gotta' go, you gotta' go."  After washing our hands, I rolled Mama out the door as the bluecoat stood rigid as a sentry. 

I knew my way around the hospital.  My gosh, we had lived our lives there for nearly a year, and I needed no instructions on how to get to the lab.  But, as I rolled to the front desk, I heard this demanding voice behind me, "Keep walking!"  The one time I slowed down, she bellowed it again, "Keep walking!"

Her hostility echoed, and mine was awakened!  If I had turned around to look at her, I know without a doubt I would have lashed out at her and said or done something I would later regret:  something like slapping her in the face.  A cat fight could have occurred right there in the main lobby.  She had definately over-stepped the boundary between assistance and control. She deserved to be reprimanded:  not I.

I don't know how, but, somehow, I managed to ignore the hateful heart behind me.  Don't misunderstand me... I am not a saint.  I wanted to say plenty, and I am quite capable of doing so.  Snippets of reactions raced through my mind.  "Who do you think you are?"  "Respect your elders."  "Who made you boss?"   "A soft answer turns away wrath."  "What an old biddy!"  "Love your enemies...  Argh!"  "Talk back to her.  Put her in her place."  Right and wrong replies reeled inside my head. 

So, with my  jaws clenched, and stinging eyes, somehow I remained focused on what was ahead of me and remained focused on my real task:  taking care of my mama.    She was, fortunately, unaware of what was going on, and didn't understand the humiliation that had just occurred.  But, I did.  And, I felt it for both of us.

Before I left the lobby, I handed the black buzzer box to the woman.  "It never made a sound."  I said, and turned on my heels to walk away.  And it was over.  That little combat between two women, both trying to do their jobs, stopped right then and there.  She thought she had won.  I know I did.  Why was there ever a conflict?  Why was there ever anything to win?

Some battles you can choose.  This one was offered to me, and I could have engaged in verbal warfare with the blue-haired, bluecoat.  I wanted to, and I am quite capable of doing so.  But, time tells me that it would have been wasted energy;  energy that was required elsewhere.

It wasn't an easy day, by any means.  It was exhausting and very draining.  It was, also, a day to remember.  Hindsight shows me I should have and could have handled it all differently, but I am not perfect, and I make mistakes, too.
  
Like I said  at the beginning of my story.  I can learn from anyone, and I have relived this episode many times... over & over again, trying to figure out what good came from this unpleasant day.  Just what did I learn from this woman, besides how NOT to treat someone?    Well, I learned three things:  I learned that I can choose my battles, and I learned that I should save my energy for what really is important.

Those are good things to know, and the entire episode proved to be valuable.  Guess I need to say, "Thank you, Ms. Bluecoat, for challenging me to grow.  I am amazed that our brief time together taught me so much about myself, and I am so glad to know that I can handle folks like you.  If our paths should cross again, I do hope you're in a better mood, because you see... I have a short memory and a big mouth, and I just may not remember the very last thing I learned from you."

"And that is:  that I can make and keep my decision to move forward and to stay focused on what is ahead of me and to ignore the ugly that is behind me."

Well, now that all of this is said and done... I feel better.

Sincerely,
Cindy Lou

p.s.  Not proud of my "human-ness", but so aware of it. 


@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Earring mystery solved!

"Eureka!  Eureka!  The lost is found!"
So happy am I... I shall expound!

I'm dancin' a jog and singin' a jig.
I found my earrings... those thingamajigs!!!

Whoop-de-doo's and la-de-da's.
I'm raisin' a ruckus and hoo-hoo-rah's!

Hidden they were.  Out of sight.
Discovered today to my delight!

"Bling!  Bling!"  My heart does sing.
"I found them today... two heart earrings!"


After five years of wondering what had happened to them, they appeared!  I found them tucked away in their little cloth bag, in a box of dirty socks.  That's right... phew, dirty socks!

This box has been in the bottom of the closet for a long, long time:  totally ignored for years.  But recently I moved it to the laundry room, and today I actually dealt with the undesirable.  Little did I know that I was involved in a treasure hunt... one that had such delight as its reward.

So, pardon me while I smile.  Please, pardon me while I glee.
It's just that they were gone.  Now, they've come back to me.

"Eureka!  Eureka!"  I do expound.
So happy am I... The lost is found!!!

Joy! Joy!  Tucked in a box.
A box of hearts and dirty socks!!!


Love days like this,
Cindy Lou



@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Listening Ears




Spring...!

 
Silent I have been.
Silent for a reason.
Growing I have been...
knowing it's a season.

For three months my blog has waved without me.  Its colors remained true.  Its pages told their own story, and I, I searched for mine.  My quest for answers and my pondering mind reveal a new identity that happened while I was not paying attention.  Without my knowledge, without my awareness... it just happened.

Youth ask, "Who am I?"  Age states, "I am."  Some ask, "Why?"  Some say, "It is."

As for me, my silence allowed me to listen.  Boldly it spoke.  It told me that I have made it through the winter, and while there... I was not alone.  The strength required and the stamina profound were manna from heaven.  I gathered it and consumed it voraciously without paying attention to the Giver, for my attention was demanded by my tasks. 

But, my winter is over, and with vision sharpened by my listening ears, I know, I know without a doubt Who provided the means and the way and the manna.  To God be the glory!  To God be the praise!  I was, and I am not alone.

Silent I have been, but not so today, for it is my season to say... "What now, now that I have crossed over the bridge of "what was & what is"?  Praise be to God from whom all blessings flow!  Praise God for this season!

Call me wiser,
and call me a grateful woman...

Cindy Lou




@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Monday Morning's Rascal

Strange noise outside my breakfast room window this morning:  It was up to me to solve the unsolved mystery.  No one else even knew the possible danger that lurked between me and the two thin sheets of plate glass.  Everyone else in the house still slumbered and dreamed of yesterday's chicken enchiladas smothered with thick, smooth sour cream sauce.

With coffee pot in hand I inched towards the window, following the sounds.  It could be a cat.  Creatures like that do prowl my deck:  those, as well as opossums.  It could be a rat, but with the noise so loud, the rat would have to be inside.  Negative... don't even think that.  I'd rather it be a person out on the deck instead of a rat inside.

Backing up, I decided maybe I better finish making my coffee and get the glass pot out of my hand.  I just might drop it if startled, and common sense told me a cup of coffee might help me decipher just what was going on.  Besides, if it were a burglar... maybe he would GO AWAY, and I wouldn't have to subdue him.  Anyway, I'd hate to have to deal with the police before I put on my make-up.  They might arrest me for something similar to indecency.

Scratchy noise?  Not really.  Rustling noise?  Well, sort of.  It would sound off, then stop, as if waiting for a response.  I was not the one to answer, for I was the investigator.  Listening and looking were my tasks, and I took my job seriously.  The safety of my household depended upon me, and I, a solitary woman demanded an answer!

With nothing in hand, for the coffee was slow to drip, I armed myself with hands on hips and inched forward to the window.  Fear pulsed through my veins:  courage through my arteries.  I wasn't prepared for what I saw.  For there was nothing to see, but a robin.  I backed off and waited.  Surely the intruder would strike again, and I would catch it in the act.  Patience was my game, and I, Superwoman, would outlast the culprit and, save the day.

"There it is, again!", I whispered to myself.  "What is it?"  With steady eyes and ears attuned, I caught it in the act and witnessed first hand its trespassing deed.  It thrashed about giving its all to its mind-boggling purpose.  Determination defied the odds, and common sense it had not.  It unleashed its flurry as feathers flew, and my window clouded over with feathered dust.  That pitiful little robin kept bopping into my window, and my heightened senses felt sorry for the creature, but sorrier for myself since I had just cleaned that window two days earlier, and had waited a year to do so!

By gosh, and by darn... here I had revved up my super powers to conquer the world, at least the enemy outside, and now the enemy was no bigger than yesterday's lunch.  Super powers were not necessary at all:  just wasted energy.

With something very special muttered by my mouth, my hands flew up to shoo away the rascal.  As he flew away, my "uncaffeined" brain can't confirm what I saw, but with wings outstretched and a glint in its eye, I'd swear that that pesky little robin, that pretty little orange-breasted creature gave me a wave and a good bye sign...  one seen out on the highways and byways of life.  I'm not sure which one of us felt more stupid:  the bird that gave me "the bird"... or me.

Alas... what a way to to start a new day.  Guess even Super Women make enemies...

Looking for the Windex,
Cindy Lou

I told my husband about the robin and its strange behaviour. He said that he's familiar with the bird's activity of flying into the glass. It seems to happen only in the morning, and he suspects that the robin sees his reflection in the window and considers it a threat. Therefore, the sign language I saw was not meant for me, but rather for the other bird!

Gotta' love it!!!

@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

"Tic-Toc..."

Tic-toc
goes the clock:
Tic, tic, tic, tic, tic, tic, toc.
Tic-toc
goes the clock:
tic, tic, tic, tic, toc.

Rock to the clock,
- as the clock
tic, tic, tic, tic, tic,
Tic-tocs.
Tic-toc,
Tic, tic, toc.
Tic-toc goes the clock.

Just a little rhyme I chant to my grandbaby:  over and over, and over.  She loves it, and of course, so do I.  She stares into space, the one up at the ceiling, and whatever she sees captivates her attention.  I stare at her, the little one in my arms, and what I see captivates me. 

Tic-toc
tic, tic, toc.
Tic-toc
goes... the....... clock.

Family clock, 5th generation

@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Heart Attack! Chapter 3...

Chapter Three - The Blue Room

Blue.  Everything in the room seemed blue:  the wall color, the color of the light bulbs, the chairs, the nurses outfits, my husband's hospital gown, even the dirty linen hamper.  "That's good.  Blue is his favorite color.  It's a calming color.  Hope it works."  If the color had soothed him, I couldn't tell.  He seemed agitated and... well, verbal!  Richard was verbal, very, very much so.  What HAD they done to him???

His tone of voice was different.  By that I mean that he didn't sound gentle and calm, his normal demeanor. He was rather hostile!  This man whom I had been with for nearly forty years, and had seen angry only once in my life, now had an attitude that was shaking the walls!  Hostility and irritability were behind his every statement:  not at all like my easy going Richard.  The nurses refused to let it bother them. They just kept on working and let it roll off their backs... their navy blue backs.

Ahh, but he was alive:  changed, maybe... but alive!  He did welcome me, and let me kiss him.  His cheek felt warm and damp.  My tears blended with his whiskers, and our words of love spoken to each other softened the attitude in his room.  The blue lights didn't seem so cold now.   Hugging him was awkward:  too many hoses, tubes, and wires, but I did manage to do a head snuggle with him, and the earthy fragrance of my man confirmed that I was "home":  another journey behind me.

The nurses updated me and answered my questions, but no one could make me understand why Richard had not told me or our son about his chest pain.  No one could explain why he drove himself to the hospital rather than call 911 for assistance, and no one could explain why he insisted to keep me uninformed about his admittance into the hospital... no one, and no one understood the anger and hurt that welled up inside me.  It wasn't about me, or it should not have been, but I felt like a dagger had been jabbed into my heart.  There we were, the two of us:  both with wounded hearts, but only one of us was being treated.

"Looks like you dodged the bullet this time," nodded his cardiologist.  "You are a very fortunate man. Two weeks of nothing but taking it easy.  Come to  my office in four weeks for your echo cardiogram and follow-up appointment, and in the meantime we'll get you started on the cardio rehab program here at the hospital.  Take your meds and adjust your diet:  beef just once a week and lower your sodium intake.  Stay away from the fast food restaurants.  If you have any any chest pains, take one nitroglycerin tablet.  If after five minutes you still have chest pains, take another nitroglycerin pill.  Then if your chest pain continues, call 911."  I elbowed, uh, poked, Richard.  "If you have any other problems whatsoever, call me."

Well, we made it through our hospital stay, and Richard did simmer down, eventually.  Me, too... it just has taken me longer.  It is now six weeks since the attack, and we are much older, and we are wiser.  The past is behind us, but always with us.  The future is a big question mark, and the present is here, but only for a moment.  So, while I have the opportunity, I thank God that Richard is still with us, and that he is as healthy as he is.  I thank God for the medical personnel that took care of him and saved his life, and I thank God for the friends & family that helped us make it through this frightening time.   They say to pick yourself up and keep going, but this was one time where neither one of us was able to do it on our own.  Praise be to God for His provision and for keeping us safe, and me... sane.

Well, I guess that is debatable.  Like I told Richard, my wonderful, stubborn, hard-headed, hard to understand martian, who I love dearly... "I'm gonna' get you well, and then for not telling me you were sick... I'm gonna' kill you !!!!!"  Yes, survived another crisis... now older, fatter (I'm a stress eater.), and just worn-out, but considering painting something blue.  They say it has a calming effect.

So, here I sit writing my story.  The rest of the time I'm sincerely trying to be a good wife and nurse.  Neither one is easy, but I'm grateful to have the chance to try.

Sincerely,
Cindy Lou

Typical heart attack symptoms:

Chest discomfort or pain

Upper body pain

Stomach pain

Shortness of breath

Anxiety

Lightheadedness

Sweating

Nausea and vomiting

Heart attack symptoms vary widely.  For instance, you may have only minor chest pain while someone else has excruciating pain.

One thing applies to everyone, though:  If you suspect you’re having a heart attack, call for emergency medical help immediately!  Don’t waste time trying to diagnose heart attack symptoms yourself.

Additional heart attack symptoms in women:

Women may have all, none, many or a few of the typical heart attack symptoms.  For women, the most common heart attack symptom is still some type of pain, pressure or discomfort in the chest.  But women are more likely than are men to also have heart attack symptoms without chest pain, such as:

Neck, jaw, shoulder, upper back or abdominal discomfort

Shortness of breath

Nausea or vomiting

Abdominal pain or “heartburn”

Sweating

Lightheadedness or dizziness

Unusual or unexplained fatigue

For more information follow this link:
http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/heart-attack/DS00094/DSECTION=symptoms

@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Heart Attack! Chapter 2...

Chapter Two - The Journey

"Husband... heart attack... Two hours away... take a deep breath, Cindy."  "I can't..."

Logic took over my actions as emotions quivered my thinking.  Throwing belongings into my suitcase, I dialed my brother's phone number, praying he would answer his phone.  He did, but even big brother's voice could not abate the fear that arose in my throat.  He said he would call his wife and see if she were available to drive the 3 hour trip to stay with Mama until he could get there the next day.  Of course, and thankfully... she agreed and told me not to worry about Mama:  she would get there as fast as she could.  God bless her.  God bless him.

Telling Mama that I had to go without her and leave her behind, broke her heart:  mine, too... but there was no way I could take care of her and be at the hospital also.  She cried more than I, but I could not take the time to console her.  Nor could I break down:  too much to do and too many miles to travel.

The highways between here and there were all too familiar, and the expected speed traps were no where in sight.  Truckers moved aside for me as if someone had gone ahead and prepared my pathway, and my gas tank I had filled just the day before.  It all seemed like deja vu, only this time I was driving in the opposite direction of the previous emergencies, and this time.... well, this time was different.

I was worried about our son.  He would be there at the hospital by himself, shouldering this burden alone; and with his one month old baby, he was already on emotional overload.   Asking family friends to sit and wait with Steve was the one thing I as a mother could do.  I feared the worse, hoped for the best, but still knew anything could happen, and I didn't want our son to face it alone.  He needed someone to lean on... just in case.  Gratefully, the friends I called dropped what they were doing and rushed to the hospital.  They hurried, then had to wait.  But they did.  God bless them.

As I entered the city, one of my ministers from church called to tell me he was almost at the hospital and would see me there.  I fought back the fear.. and the tears.  God bless him, too.

"Oh, God... please don't forsake us.  Please watch over Richard, and his medical team.  Have mercy on him, Lord.  He's such a good man.  Please take care of Steve.  Please watch over Mama.  Thank you God for friends, for family, for medical professionals.  Oh, God... please help... please.  Help me be strong, once again... Oh, God..."

The folks at the information desk were helpful, but very slow talkers.  They didn't realize I was in panic mode.  I just wanted them to point and give me simple directions to CCU:  I walked away from them as they were still talking.  Rounding the corner  I saw a volunteer I knew, but I didn't dare slow down because my son was standing waiting for me, and there by his side was his lovely little wife. 

With strained voice he said, "Do you want the facts or the chronological order of happenings?"  He's an engineer, just like his dad.  I replied, "The facts."  "He's stable.  The cardiac team found nothing else of concern on their second look at Dad's arteries."  He proceeded to tell about the heart attack, the one stent, the shocking, the CPR, Code Blue, and his dad's stubbornness.  That I already knew about!

"He's stable." pounded in my heart... I could see him.  I could hold him.  I could kiss him.  I could scold him for not telling me or anyone else that he was in trouble.  But this last one should wait.  My husband was alive, and he was "stable".  For this I rejoiced!

I hugged my kids.  I hugged my friends who so lovingly supported us and thanked them for being there with Steve, for Steve, and for Richard and me.  I wiped off my tears, but they kept rolling.  And then I took off for the CCU. 

"I don't know which room he's in," but my feet kept walking anyway.  As the automatic doors opened, a surge of strength kept me upright, but fear and anger chiseled away at my very core.  Without introducing myself, or even speaking to them, the nurses pointed to his room.  They had been watching for me... "the missing wife," and they continued watching me as I entered his room.

(to be continued...)



@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Heart Attack! Didn't I Tell You?

Chapter One - The Phone Call

Note to the reader:  I'm asking myself why I'm sharing something so personal and intimate about our family, and I guess there are two reasons.  #1.  It could be beneficial to you or someone you love:  perhaps you can learn from our mistakes.  #2.  Perhaps I can learn from our mistakes.

Sometimes you get hit hard, right in the gut, and your response is and can only be... a gasp for air. 

It wasn't me who had the heart attack, but my husband.  At age 62, he seemed the picture of health:  one without a family history of heart disease, and a man who loves to golf and play tennis.  That's what he did the eve of his heart attack:  play tennis.  The day before, he played several rounds of golf, and had chest pains afterwards.  The pain subsided after a few hours, so the next day, he pretended that nothing was wrong.  He played tennis for an hour, and then quit. 

He came home with pain, and stayed awake with pain all night until 5:00 a.m. the next morning, Thursday, January 6, 2011.  Then he drove himself to the emergency room which is about fifteen minutes away.  The medical people easily recognized the symptoms and asked him which family members they should call.  He said, "No one.... don't bother them.  My wife's out of town."  I was.  It was true.  I was two hours away in Oklahoma with my mother, caring for her, but that was no reason to not call me. 

The nurses and doctors pushed further, "Mr. Hodges, you are having a heart attack right now, and you have been having one for some time.  We're taking you up to the Cath Lab immediately.  We need to call your family and let them know.  "Who can we call?"  Still, he stubbornly said, "No.... don't bother them."

What on earth was he thinking???  The man was having a heart attack, and he wouldn't let his family know about it!

Communication in our marriage, all thirty-eight years, has always been an issue.  I give too much info, or at least I used to, and he gives too little.  He has never been much for conversation.  Over the course of time, my conversations and sentences have shortened because I can tell when he's on overload and received too much information.  You know how we women are, we can tell when we are being "tuned out", and you know how men are:  they think we just ramble.  So, sometime or somewhere, I just sort of quit trying.  I felt that having to pull and prod him just to gather information was a waste of energy.  I don't know what he felt... perhaps he felt that I was intrusive.  Perhaps he just didn't want me to know more than he offered.  Perhaps he felt I already knew what I needed to know... perhaps. 

Or perhaps he was trying to protect me.  Our last fifteen months dealing with my mother's health issues had stretched us beyond all boundaries of normalcy.  We were exhausted mentally, physically and emotionally, plus we were still trying to figure out the next part of her life:  ours, too.  We had lived away from home and away from each other more in that time period than we had ever done so, and thousands of those hours were spent at hospitals and other medical care facilities with Mama.  Perhaps he was still in denial that the heart attack was really happening, and that this time HE was the patient, and I, once again, the caregiver.

I don't know what he was thinking.  Our son doesn't know, either.  He was just ten minutes away and could have, would have driven his dad to the ER, or would have called 911.  Our son is just as bewildered as I about his dad's silence.

The cardiologist found one artery 95% clogged and inserted one stent.  The other arteries were only mildly blocked and required no stents, thank goodness.  Once stable, my husband was rolled down to his room in CC (Cardiac Care).  Soon upon his arrival, his heart rhythms were so out of sync, that the cardiac team had to shock his heart and then perform CPR:  otherwise, Code Blue.

That's when his nurse became emphatic, "Mr. Hodges... we have to call someone!  Let me call your wife or your son!"  My husband, annoyed from being awakened from such "good sleep" as he called it, just wanted to go back to sleep.  So, he agreed and gave her permission to call.  She did immediately!

About 10:30  that Thursday morning I received a phone call from a very persuasive woman claiming to be a cardiac nurse, and that my husband had just had a heart attack!  She continued telling me that they had to do CPR on him, and shock his heart, and that they were at that time taking him back up to the Cath Lab to see if they had missed anything!  She said that I needed to be there!  As she was hanging up the phone she said that she would then call our son to alert him.

With the sound of her voice reeling in my head, it never occurred to me to doubt the reality of this phone call.  Immediately I tried to figure out what I should do first.  There I was taking care of my mother who couldn't stay long by herself without assistance, but now I needed to be in Texas caring for my husband, my dearly beloved, hard-headed, hard-to-understand, stubborn husband who had just had a heart attack.  I needed to be and wanted to be with him, beside him...  whether he made it through this heart attack or... not. 

"Why, oh why hadn't I called him the night before?"  It had been two days since we had last talked.  Now it didn't make any sense at all that we hadn't phoned each other, but earlier I had felt that if he wanted to talk or had something to say, he would have called me.   "Why, oh, why hadn't I called him just to check on him?  All I had to do was pick up the phone ."  "Why's?, "Why not's?", and "What now's?"  kept flooding my mind.

I felt like I had been punched in the gut... hard... really, really hard.


(to be continued...)



@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

"Stuck"

Where I sit today is a very cozy place to be.  I'm warm.  I'm safe.  I'm not being forced to labor, nor am I being forced to act like someone I'm not.  As a matter of thought, what force there is around me is one that comes from within, not from external sources.  When it's just me, I'm not sure that's a good thing.

My internal drive seems to be in "park" and rather "stuck" in the same place that it's been for awhile.  I feel like an old car that can't make it up the hill and my owner crammed scotch blocks behind my wheels to keep me from rolling backwards, careening down into some deep, dark crevice.  I can't get up enough steam to go forward, but I have dug in my heels so that I won't go backwards.  I am determined to not go there.

So, it's either "here, to stay" or "move forward" or "move sideways".  Sounds like some kind of dance, doesn't it?  Yes, come to think of it, that is exactly what it is.  It's life's dance, and I can sit it out, or I can join the party.

But, where I sit today is a very cozy place.  I'm warm.  I'm safe.  I have much to be thankful for, much to do, yet this twinge of unhappiness and dissatisfaction weigh me down like lead in my dancing shoes.  Like I said, when it's just me, I'm not sure that's a good thing.

Guess we all have days like this, especially when for several days the sun has hidden behind the clouds.  Guess we can't always be who we want to be.  Guess that's normal.  The fact is:  I need a friend today, and maybe, just maybe... that friend will ask me to dance, and together we'll make it up that hill.

Waiting for the sun to shine; believing it will,
Just a little blue for right now...
Cindy Lou

"Draw nigh to God, and He will draw nigh to you.  Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and He shall lift you up."  ...Holy Bible, James 4: 8, 10

"Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need."  ...Holy Bible, Hebrews 4:16

p.s.  I'm gonna' need these...

@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

And She Was Born, Chapter 3

Chapter Three - "Be Still, My Heart"

With "baby's heart beat dangerously low .. dangerously low" running through my head, I desperately prayed for the safety of my loved ones.  Our baby was in danger!  My daughter-in-law, too, and my assignments were plain:  find her parents and pray!

"Run, run!"  I hurried up and down the winding hallways until I found them, and it was a mutual joy to see each other at last.   Hugs, words, and hand motions filled the empty air as anticipation and worry hung all around us.  We mothers talked back & forth as women naturally do, while the maternal grandfather translated Vietnamese words into English, and English words into Vietnamese.  Tears and facial expressions were totally  understood, and sighs of angst needed no explanation.  We were there for our kids, and we were there for each other.  No translator was necessary to express the clash of joy and fear we all felt. That was a given.

We talked, translated, "hand gestured", laughed, cried, sat still, paced the floor, prayed, sighed... then repeated it all over again and again until... at long last, at 1:30 a.m. December 2, 2010...  the closed hospital room door burst open!  In came a caravan of feet:  all covered with blue booties.  Heads and faces wore the disposable caps and masks, and arms of blue pushed the hospital bed back into place.  I tried my best to find my son in the parade of scrubs, but my eyes were fixed on the beautiful vision that lay before me on a cloud of white.

Never had I seen my daughter-in-law look lovelier.  A sense of calm and peace surrounded her giving no hint to the trauma her body had just experienced.  She glowed with beauty and grace as she lovingly cradled her new born child.  Never had I seen so clearly through tear-soaked eyes.  And, of course, never had I seen my very own grandchild.  But, there she was... finally... she was born!  She was here. And she was exquisite!!!  Tiny at 5 pounds, 15.5 ounces, her little lungs worked on their own, and her steady little heart had already melted all the big hearts in that room.

As I tried to memorize the moment, my eyes lifted and amidst all the patches of blue masks, I found those eyes I've known and loved for over thirty-three years.  So tender, so puffy, so sweet.  The new daddy, my courageous son, stood proud and strong!  Like a soldier on guard, he commanded the room.  No one could tell that his knees shook.  No one could tell that his heart trembled.  No one knew how close he came to passing out during the emergency C-section. No one, but me his Mama... and, well... the surgical team.

Relief and joy must be side by side on the emotional scale, because when there is doubt that joy will occur, and it finally does... the joy is magnificient!  It explodes upon arrival!  And, I'd say that the emotional Richter scale in that hospital wing was so high it reached clear into heaven. I felt that heaven and earth connected, once again the very same night, and the proof was our little baby girl, Evelien Claire Hodges.  As I touched my cheek to her soft, warm, tiny face, my soul better understood the miracle that I held.  The lyrics of the song that I had sung just hours earlier came alive as never before:  *"And when you kiss your little baby... you've kissed the face of God..."  What an incredible feeling! 

Just like I said at the beginning of my story, it was a star-studded night.  It was a glorious night, a glorious sight to see my kids shine like the stars!   My children, our children, became what we once became.  And we became what our parents had once become.  The awe of the miracle of life filled my soul, and I will never, never be the same.  I am now Grandmother, yet I am still me.  I don't know how to put the two together, but I will do my darndest to be a good Grandmother.  Friends tell me that it comes naturally.  But, I don't know.  I've never been a grandmother, and I am walking into the realms of the unknown.  It's times like this that it would be nice to have a friend, a girlfriend.  Someone to talk to and someone to hold my hand and tell me "do this... go this way... go that way, say this, be smart... don't say that".  You know, a buddy... we all need one, especially me.

So, I will be calling upon my mother, "Nanny", who offers wisdom and love:  my cherished friend so dear to my heart who fought tenaciously for over a year to still be alive, and who now says it was all worth it just to see our new little life.  I will also call upon my friends, and I will gladly welcome their advice, which they freely will offer.  But, you know... there is someone else... someone to walk with me me... someone else to hold my hand.  Oh, joy... be still my heart... rejoice my soul!  The hand I hold is so tiny.  It's so soft, and it is so beautiful.  It's a girl!  And her name is... Baby Evelien!!!

Halleluja!  Hosannas!  And hugs!  Here I go into this new phase of my life, holding hands with my established friends and with my new little friend, and wondering,  "at what point will the grown up act more like the child?"  Hmmmmmm..... I think that's already happened.  Yes, I have turned into a silly old Grandma, one with rhinestone bling!

Guess you better, "Look out world!"   Here I come with my marching orders and my Grandma boots on.  Dolls and dishes, are packed in my back pack, and lots of pink fluffly things are in my purse.  Tissues & wet wipes, diapers & bibs, phone numbers, and a direct line to heaven that's available all the time:  they're all a part of my entourage, and it feels so good!  I am blessed to be a Grandma, blessed to have been a part of this thrilling adventure, and I am so blessed to be at this stage of my life.

Guess you can call me "Blessed among women".  Or you can call me Cindy.  You can call me Cindy Lou, or you can call me Grammy.  But, as they say... just don't call me when I'm babysitting.  I'll be too busy to answer! 

Sincerely,
Me, still me, whoever that is.


Evelien & Grammy, first embrace...

p.s. #1  Remember the pink cakes from Chapter One?  Well, the extra pink cake was the perfect way to celebrate the arrival of our baby girl!  We all enjoyed the pink, fluffly, strawberry cake decorated with all the foofoo on top.  It was Evelien's very first birthday cake!  Who would have thought she would come so early?  Isn't it amazing that I made an extra cake?  Isn't it great that I made pink cakes?  Ahhhh... sweet times! 

p.s. #2  You may wonder where my husband was during this memorable night.  Well, he was in Oklahoma with my mother, caring for her.  What a great guy!  I kept him and "Nanny" informed all evening via text messages and phone calls.  He loaded up all of Nanny's things the very next morning, and with a fully-packed van, they hurried down to Texas to meet our new baby girl.  Ahhhh... the family was all together!  Sweet, sweet times, indeed!


p.s. #3  Thank you, God!  Thank you.



*"Mary, Did You Know?"... song lyrics by Gary Lowry

@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

The Piano Lesson

The piano movers are coming tomorrow, at noon.  They are coming to move my beloved Kawai from one room to another, and I can honestly say that I am greatly relieved that this is finally happening!  It's going to end up right back where it was about a year and a half ago:  in the living room, right in front of the big mirror, visible from the front door entrance, smack dab in the center of the house.  It's moving back to its original place, and something inside of me finds great comfort in that.  It's as if a loved one who has been away for a very long time, has now come back home to stay.

It seems like such a long time ago that I initially hired the movers to come, and at the time it seemed a logical change.  But, once I saw my piano set in place in the other room, stuck in the corner, I knew I had done the wrong thing.  Because the money had to be paid and the decision had been made, my brain, as well as my husband, told me to live with the situation for awhile.  "Oh, you'll get used to it," he said, "give it time".  Others said they liked it because now the den was a "music room", and it looked like a studio.  I thought maybe they were right, and I was too emotionally involved with a piece of furniture.

So, I "gave it time", but I never did get used to it.  Never.  It always felt wrong:  kind of like a shirt with a scratchy tag in its neck, or a coffee cup with a burr on the lip edge.  It just never felt right, and I had no one to blame but myself:  it was my own doing, a "doing" with regrets.

Here it is about eighteen months later, and I can boldly say that I am older and much wiser, and that I have done my time.  Guess you can say that I paid my penance.  It's time to set things straight, and get my life back in order.  Yes, I have to pay the movers, again... but, that's okay.  I consider it money well spent.  It's people like me who help people like them pay their bills.  And, it's people like them who help people like me get their lives back in order.  That's how it works, isn't it?  I help them:  they help me.  We need each other. 

Well, this is not your typical piano lesson, is it?  But, it is a lesson well learned.  There is no place like home sweet home, even for pianos.  My baby is coming back home, and when I pay for its ticket, I'm gonna' breathe a sigh of satisfaction and sweet content.  You know, sometimes, I am just a lot of trouble for myself, not to mention those around me.  Yes, I have just completed a circle, another circle in my life:  my piano, too.  The good news is that now, we both have each other where we belong, plus we both have a couple of new friends.

If you ever need good piano movers, call me.  Most likely I'll be sitting on the bench, in the living room, right in front of the big mirror, visible from the front door entrance, smack dab in the center of the house with a great, big smile on my face. 

Going in circles and wondering, "Why?",
Your friend...

Cindy Lou

p.s. Where it was...

Where it is now... after its journey.... home, sweet home!

@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

And She Was Born, Chapter 2

Chapter Two - "The 2nd Floor"

Unbeknown to me, my daughter-in-law had been in labor all day, but went to work anyway, not knowing that it was "the real thing"!  My son played an hour-long game of volleyball that evening, while "Mommie" stayed home and packed her suitcase between contractions.  By 9:00 p.m. they decided that maybe they should go to the hospital, "this just might be serious".  Do ya, think???

Hence, the text message sent to me, "We at hospital.  She may be early...!"

I think I was kind of noisy:  "Errr---Screech!  Slam!  High-heeled clomp-clomps!"  I ran to the ER desk, and some gracious woman led me through the hall ways to the elevator that would take me to the maternity wing.  I was on the ride of my life, and as the elevator doors closed I said goodbye to my life as it had been, and with their opening I said hello to my greatest adventure ever.  The profound words of a budding new grandmother then blurted out from me as I viewed the 2nd floor, "sheez... now, uh, which way did she say to go???"

When I found my brave kids, it was quite obvious to me that they weren't kids anymore, and that I was no longer a young adult.  We were all stepping up to a new level and a higher status in our adult lives, and this new little life coming to join us would challenge us all to rise to the calling.  I saw my son hovering over his lovely wife, tenderly talking to her, and calmly reading the numbers on the monitor.  I saw my daughter-in-law quietly endure the contractions, then mildly say, "that was a big one."  I heard the nurse announce,  "this baby is coming tonight, probably before midnight!"  And off they rolled them to the birthing room.

At that point the situation escalated so rapidly that my head still spins.  I stepped out of the birthing room while the epidural was given and waited in the waiting area. I understand that within minutes the epidural took effect and eased Mommie's pain, but our baby girl's heartbeat dropped rapidly.  I waited and waited for what seemed eternities far too long.  Then I received an alarming text, "Heartbeat low.  csection.  rite now."  "Her parents around somewhere.  please try find." 

(to be continued...)



@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.