Last week, on Tuesday, October 9, at 6 pm, a dear friend passed away after ten months in Duke University Hospital, receiving two lung transplants a few months apart.
My friend's name was William Stephen (Steve) Keel. He was 67 years old.
My parents had been friends with Steve and his wife Nancy since before I was born; and their 7 kids are my age or there abouts. Their family and my family, and many other families in the community, lived near each other, grew together, ate together, learned together, played together, sang together, suffered together, and existed side by side for my whole life, and continue to do so.
In recent years I began working for their family, caring for their adult daughter with a mental handicap. So my life became even more closely entwined with theirs. Their children got married, had kids, life happened. And I was close at hand to witness it.
Some years ago, Steve was diagnosed with IPF - pulmonary fibrosis. For whatever reason, his lungs were slowly beginning to fail him.
I have watched over the past four years or so, as with each passing season, it seemed to worsen and become a heavier and heavier burden... until last fall, when when he was told if he did not get a lung transplant, he would die very soon. I was there the day they returned from a visit to the doctor with this grim prognosis. He needed to get on a transplant list, and sooner rather than later. Usually the transplant process takes several months of physical therapy and waiting "in line" behind other folks also needing transplants.
And yet, being people of great faith and trust in Almighty God and his healing powers, they and the family, along with the whole Christian Community stood and believed in great faith that he would be approved for the transplant and ultimately, healed of this horrible disease.
The reality of the situation truly hit home for me personally when we were called in to the home about a year ago, and Steve told my husband what his burial wishes were. He wanted to be buried on a hillside in the woods behind their house, in a plain brown box. He laid out all the specifics for my husband, so that in the event of his death, his wife would not need to make these arrangements. He knew that Kevin had the tools, the know how, and the leadership to take this task upon him if the time came.
In November, a few weeks before Thanksgiving, he was approved for transplant, and put on the top of the transplant waiting list at Duke. He moved to a friend's home in Durham to be a quick few minutes from the Hospital when the word came that lungs were available.
He never returned home.
At the time of his moving to be loser to the hospital, my life really changed a lot. I not only took care of the daughter, now I was sitting at their home with Nancy's 96 year old mother with dementia. There is a staff of about five of us who took shifts around the clock, staying in the home and caring for the invalids there, and undertook the running of the household. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping, phone calls, anything and everything, we did. Around the clock.
We got the news that a lung was available on January 31, 2011. It was a match. He received the lung transplant and all went well. He even recovered well from the operation and it seemed like the healing was well on it's way and he would be able to come home.
Then there were setbacks. Problems, issues. It became evident that the second lung would need to be removed, right away. Once again, he had to wait for another lung, while his life was in the balance. A prayer vigil was held when it seemed like all was lost, and the very next day, a lung was flown in and the second surgery performed.
But he never recovered from the second transplant. He spent months in the ICU, connected to a ventilator via a trac in his neck. He was unable to eat, or drink. He was on a feeding tube. He became skeletal, as he lost weight and muscle.
I went to visit Steve around this time; in the ICU. He was frail, and weak. Thin, and aged. But his eyes were still bright, and his countenance was hopeful. His voice was weak as he told me the doctors had told him in 30 days he should be out of ICU and maybe after that, able to come home.
He recovered somewhat and was released for two weeks, and they stayed in Durham to be close to the hospital in case anything went wrong.
After two weeks, he was back in the hospital, and only went downhill after that.
Being in the home all these months, practically living there, I got the daily updates; the emails, the calls from Nancy on a daily basis with the medical updates on Steve. I knew how she was feeling; how she was coping - or not coping. I witnessed her sorrow, her fear, her despair, as well as her faith in God and strength to endure this incredibly hard time. I, and my co workers, were deeply involved with the whole process, and emotionally invested in the whole ordeal.
There had been many close calls with death, many times when I thought it was going to be the end of Steve, and always it seemed he found the strength from somewhere to pull it together and live another day.
I got a call on Monday last week from Nancy that the Doctors had told them that the Vent was prolonging his inevitable death and not preserving his life; and the decision was made to remove him from the vent and let him go to be with the Lord. The family were all on their way. The time was set for Tuesday at 3 pm. Not many people knew what was going on.
Tuesday, 3 pm came, and oh how I felt a heavy weight of sadness and sorrow for the family as I knew what was going on at that time. It was my day off and yet my heart and mind were right there. I went to a business meeting with Kevin and my Dad, and at 7 PM, my co worker and friend Cara texted me to say that he had passed away.
I felt an immediate relief for him - he was free from the unimaginable pain and suffering; but such a heavy grief for his family who had just lost their Husband and Father so soon, it seemed.
The funeral was held at the home and many people were in attendance. It was the most deeply spiritual celebration of life service I have ever attended.
As the gathering sang the hymn "Fairest Lord Jesus", a butterfly fluttered over the heads of everyone there, sitting in a circle in chairs on the lawn. I watched as the butterfly flew all around, and then soared higher and higher into the air above the trees until I could no longer see it.
The graveside service was extremely emotional. I have only ever been to one other graveside service before.
Steve was buried in the Jewish tradition, with friends and family helping to shovel in the dirt. With each family member who stepped up and shoveled in earth, my tears flowed heavier. My friend John Howell stepped up to shovel in some dirt as he began singing a hymn, and before he was finished, broke down into mournful sobs as friends Jerry and Ruffin enclosed him in their arms in comfort.
Antion, who had lived with them for ten months, and who I had become good friends with during that time, stepped up to shovel in his portion, and after the first one, couldn't stop - sobbing, he shoveled in ten or twelve more shovels full. As each friend stepped up, the shoveling in of the dirt was like a last and final offering.
Through the whole experience of the past year, I have been struck by the great love and deep connection our families have for one another. (The families in our Christian Church community here locally.)
I can go months - sometimes a year or so! - without seeing some of these friends, and when you meet up again, it is as if no time has passed at all. There is no catching up or getting to know one another all over again; you simply pick up where you left off. That is how steady and unified we are as a community and as the Body of Christ. Perfect? Heck no. But it is the unconditional love for one another that covers the "imperfections". I thank God that I am privileged to be a part of such an awesome group of people. These friends are Brothers and Sisters in Christ, and we are one big family. And this past week we lost a important and dearly loved member of our family; he will be so greatly missed. The loss is painful and deep. But I rejoice that he is with The Father and is no longer suffering with a diseased and broken body.
I will see you again, Mr. Keel. And we will have so much to talk about.
Showing posts with label Friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Friends. Show all posts
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Friday, February 24, 2012
Crazy Stuff I Did As A Kid
When I got to work at 8:30 this morning, it was already 70 degrees out; sunny and pure gorgeous. My place of work is a private home perched on a huge hill out in the country; surrounded by cow pastures and the Dan River beyond. There is a red Radio Flyer wagon on the porch, and when I saw it, I had the sudden urge to get in the wagon and go careening down the hill as fast as it would take me.... like I used to do as a kid. That got me thinking about all the crazy, and sometimes dangerous things I did growing up.
I spent my childhood in a rural, farming community of North Carolina; and we did "country" things to amuse ourselves. This was 20 plus years ago.... so my sisters and brothers and I didn't have cell phones and iPads to play games. There was not Facebook and Twitter, and my parents didn't believe in video games. Or TV. We watched movies (on VHS!) but that was it. My parents were old school; and my Mom was a hippie holdover from the 70s, so they believed in the power of imagination and the health benefits of playing outdoors.
In addition to riding our Radio Flyer wagon (gift from Grandma who believed in old fashioned toys like those Radio Flyers from the good ol' days) down hills at insane speeds, and very often crashing in a heap at the bottom (those Radio Flyers didn't have the best steering), we did things like.....
- Roll down the hill over and over until we were dizzy and puked, plus covered in grass and dirt
- Roll down the hill in a rusty metal barrel we dug up in the woods someplace (tetanus, anyone?)
- Ride our bikes across the river to the cornfield and play hide and seek in it's 20 + acres. Plus, we ate the corn, and if you've ever eaten corn meant to be cow feed, you know that it can make you sick sick sick. yeah.
- Ride our horses out in a thunderstorm on purpose; while Mom thought we were at the barn cleaning tack or mucking stalls or something
- Race our horses in John Scott's hayfield, helmet-less
- Swim in the farm pond (The memory makes me cringe. It was like a glorified mud puddle. Both my sister and I got ear infections afterwords. Eeeeeeewww!)
- Swam in the creek while it was flooded and barely made it out. We removed our clothes and tied them together, then tied them to a branch, to give us something to hold onto to get back across to the "home" side. (We swam in the creek fully clothed.) I lost my shorts and walked home in a towel
- Walked up the creek a mile and a half to the huge rock cliff in the creek bend, climbed up 15 or so feet, and leapt off into the murky waters
- Jumped off our friends' boat house roof and into the lake
- I snuck up and rode the neighbor's horse bareback, and he bolted for the barn. I fell off and one of his hooves clipped my arm - I made my sister swear not to tell our Mom and Dad and never did it again
- Rode horses on the highway and even raced traffic sometimes
- At the park we'd get on the "big swings", pump as high as we could, and then jump off. Man, when your pockets got stuck on the seats, it was a bad fall. I am surprised none of us broke our necks
- Went sledding late at night after the snow had melted slightly and re-froze, making a slicker surface... for hours we would do crazy sledding stunts with the neighbor kids, very often crashing into things and whacking out heads on solid ice. One night I fell off my sled and hit my head so hard I saw stars. I never told my Mom, and chances are I had a concussion from it. Later in my life, when I had several serious concussions from horseback riding accidents, I remembered that after hitting my head on the ice, my head felt the exact same way as when I hit my head falling off horses over jumps.
My parents aren't to blame! They didn't know what was going on behind their back. I know that If they knew half of the crazy stuff we were doing out there, they would have stepped in with a "How about let's not do that, ok?"
I also did normal things like play with dolls and decorate doll houses. Plus, my Mom made me learn embroidery and I spent a lot of time doing that; even as a kid. I loved it. And I read books all the time. So I enjoyed craziness - and normalcy. I guess I have been this way my whole life... the best of both worlds.
It was the best way to grow up - I wouldn't trade it for all the electronic stuff kids do today for the world! There is a lot to be said for a good, old fashioned, country raisin'.
I spent my childhood in a rural, farming community of North Carolina; and we did "country" things to amuse ourselves. This was 20 plus years ago.... so my sisters and brothers and I didn't have cell phones and iPads to play games. There was not Facebook and Twitter, and my parents didn't believe in video games. Or TV. We watched movies (on VHS!) but that was it. My parents were old school; and my Mom was a hippie holdover from the 70s, so they believed in the power of imagination and the health benefits of playing outdoors.
In addition to riding our Radio Flyer wagon (gift from Grandma who believed in old fashioned toys like those Radio Flyers from the good ol' days) down hills at insane speeds, and very often crashing in a heap at the bottom (those Radio Flyers didn't have the best steering), we did things like.....
- Roll down the hill over and over until we were dizzy and puked, plus covered in grass and dirt
- Roll down the hill in a rusty metal barrel we dug up in the woods someplace (tetanus, anyone?)
- Ride our bikes across the river to the cornfield and play hide and seek in it's 20 + acres. Plus, we ate the corn, and if you've ever eaten corn meant to be cow feed, you know that it can make you sick sick sick. yeah.
- Ride our horses out in a thunderstorm on purpose; while Mom thought we were at the barn cleaning tack or mucking stalls or something
- Race our horses in John Scott's hayfield, helmet-less
- Swim in the farm pond (The memory makes me cringe. It was like a glorified mud puddle. Both my sister and I got ear infections afterwords. Eeeeeeewww!)
- Swam in the creek while it was flooded and barely made it out. We removed our clothes and tied them together, then tied them to a branch, to give us something to hold onto to get back across to the "home" side. (We swam in the creek fully clothed.) I lost my shorts and walked home in a towel
- Walked up the creek a mile and a half to the huge rock cliff in the creek bend, climbed up 15 or so feet, and leapt off into the murky waters
- Jumped off our friends' boat house roof and into the lake
- I snuck up and rode the neighbor's horse bareback, and he bolted for the barn. I fell off and one of his hooves clipped my arm - I made my sister swear not to tell our Mom and Dad and never did it again
- Rode horses on the highway and even raced traffic sometimes
- At the park we'd get on the "big swings", pump as high as we could, and then jump off. Man, when your pockets got stuck on the seats, it was a bad fall. I am surprised none of us broke our necks
- Went sledding late at night after the snow had melted slightly and re-froze, making a slicker surface... for hours we would do crazy sledding stunts with the neighbor kids, very often crashing into things and whacking out heads on solid ice. One night I fell off my sled and hit my head so hard I saw stars. I never told my Mom, and chances are I had a concussion from it. Later in my life, when I had several serious concussions from horseback riding accidents, I remembered that after hitting my head on the ice, my head felt the exact same way as when I hit my head falling off horses over jumps.
My parents aren't to blame! They didn't know what was going on behind their back. I know that If they knew half of the crazy stuff we were doing out there, they would have stepped in with a "How about let's not do that, ok?"
I also did normal things like play with dolls and decorate doll houses. Plus, my Mom made me learn embroidery and I spent a lot of time doing that; even as a kid. I loved it. And I read books all the time. So I enjoyed craziness - and normalcy. I guess I have been this way my whole life... the best of both worlds.
It was the best way to grow up - I wouldn't trade it for all the electronic stuff kids do today for the world! There is a lot to be said for a good, old fashioned, country raisin'.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
What's In A Name
My Mom gave all of my siblings and I very interesting names - mostly Biblical/Hebrew. She told us from the time we were all little of how she prayed about all of our names, and the meanings of our names.
But I think, more than all of them, I have the weirdest name of them all.
You have no idea how my name - "Hosanna" - has been butchered over the years.
Just yesterday I was called "Havana"at the Post Office and then the computer repair guy wrote it down as "Joseanna" - like some kind of feminine form of "Jose". I get that a lot - along with people assuming that I am Spanish. It has to be the tan - or my dark eyes? I don't know, but much of the time I get asked if I am Spanish. Which isn't surprising, as my Mom was always presumed to be Cuban when we lived in Florida because of her olive skin and dark hair/eyes.
There is a neighbor that has always called me "Hannah" forever and I just play along with it. As long as there is not another Hannah in the room to be confused with.
I remember being a part of a summer reading program at the local library when I was in grade school and when someone asked me for my name to write out on a certificate for reading a bunch of books, they didn't believe my name was "Hosanna" and wrote, instead, "Roseanna" even after I spelled my name out for them.
I've been called Roseanna on many other occasions and I just smile and nod. Smile and nod.......
And growing up in Church was really awful, as you can imagine; I was constantly greeted by people singing some song or another with "hosanna" in the chorus or verse. It made me want to seriously stab my eye with a fork.
When I was showing horses frequently in my teens and early 20s, the show announcers almost always botched my name. If they got the first part right, they'd botch my last name - which was Pennell at the time. I was a different name at every show. I'd be sitting there, on my horse, baking in my black hunt jacket, velvet hunt cap, and tall black boots, and groan as they called me in for my prize.
"And in second place.... Hos.... Jose..... Hus-anna............Penel." OR, "Hose-ann Peeeenayle".
Finally I started using my middle name and was just plain "Joy" at horse shows. At least, I figured, they could get that part right.
When my brothers started having kids, and they started talking, they'd always stumble over the mouthful of "Aunt Hosanna" so eventually my official name for the kids in my life (7 that I see frequently) became "Zanna". This worked out great for all of the kids, except my niece Emilie, who is now 4. She would not - or could not - say "Zanna" or anything like "Zanna" so when she started talking, she simply called me "Kevin" - my husband's name. She'd come over to my house and say something like "Hey, Aunt Kebin? Kin I pet that kitty?"
I would explain: "Yes, you may. But, my name is 'Zanna'. Can you say 'Zanna'?"
Emilie, mumbling: "Aunt Zanna".
"Yep! That's my name."
"Hey, Aunt Kebin........................?"
Sometimes the kids will try my whole name on for size. Then it's something like "HOSE-anna" or "Hoseyanna".
My close friends call me "Hos" (like "hose"), or "Hosie".
In addition to the strange pronunciations of my name, I get strange looks and blank stares when I introduce myself to someone I have never met before. The head tilts of inquiry.
So while I do like having an unusual name, it does come with certain "issues".
That is why, should I ever produce offspring, I think I will go with names like..... "Mary". And "Ed". Or names with easier to pronounce nicknames.
Yeah. Plan carefully when choosing names for your children, parents.
But I think, more than all of them, I have the weirdest name of them all.
You have no idea how my name - "Hosanna" - has been butchered over the years.
Just yesterday I was called "Havana"at the Post Office and then the computer repair guy wrote it down as "Joseanna" - like some kind of feminine form of "Jose". I get that a lot - along with people assuming that I am Spanish. It has to be the tan - or my dark eyes? I don't know, but much of the time I get asked if I am Spanish. Which isn't surprising, as my Mom was always presumed to be Cuban when we lived in Florida because of her olive skin and dark hair/eyes.
There is a neighbor that has always called me "Hannah" forever and I just play along with it. As long as there is not another Hannah in the room to be confused with.
I remember being a part of a summer reading program at the local library when I was in grade school and when someone asked me for my name to write out on a certificate for reading a bunch of books, they didn't believe my name was "Hosanna" and wrote, instead, "Roseanna" even after I spelled my name out for them.
I've been called Roseanna on many other occasions and I just smile and nod. Smile and nod.......
And growing up in Church was really awful, as you can imagine; I was constantly greeted by people singing some song or another with "hosanna" in the chorus or verse. It made me want to seriously stab my eye with a fork.
When I was showing horses frequently in my teens and early 20s, the show announcers almost always botched my name. If they got the first part right, they'd botch my last name - which was Pennell at the time. I was a different name at every show. I'd be sitting there, on my horse, baking in my black hunt jacket, velvet hunt cap, and tall black boots, and groan as they called me in for my prize.
"And in second place.... Hos.... Jose..... Hus-anna............Penel." OR, "Hose-ann Peeeenayle".
Finally I started using my middle name and was just plain "Joy" at horse shows. At least, I figured, they could get that part right.
When my brothers started having kids, and they started talking, they'd always stumble over the mouthful of "Aunt Hosanna" so eventually my official name for the kids in my life (7 that I see frequently) became "Zanna". This worked out great for all of the kids, except my niece Emilie, who is now 4. She would not - or could not - say "Zanna" or anything like "Zanna" so when she started talking, she simply called me "Kevin" - my husband's name. She'd come over to my house and say something like "Hey, Aunt Kebin? Kin I pet that kitty?"
I would explain: "Yes, you may. But, my name is 'Zanna'. Can you say 'Zanna'?"
Emilie, mumbling: "Aunt Zanna".
"Yep! That's my name."
"Hey, Aunt Kebin........................?"
Sometimes the kids will try my whole name on for size. Then it's something like "HOSE-anna" or "Hoseyanna".
My close friends call me "Hos" (like "hose"), or "Hosie".
In addition to the strange pronunciations of my name, I get strange looks and blank stares when I introduce myself to someone I have never met before. The head tilts of inquiry.
So while I do like having an unusual name, it does come with certain "issues".
That is why, should I ever produce offspring, I think I will go with names like..... "Mary". And "Ed". Or names with easier to pronounce nicknames.
Yeah. Plan carefully when choosing names for your children, parents.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
My Holiday Weekend
My main weekend activity consisted of baking and constructing this cake for my friend's wedding:
Sorry, I didn't take photos of the entire process; but I assure you: I did make it. With great help from my sister, Naomi.All of the icing is coffee flavored. The bottom tier is chocolate, with Kahlua for flavoring. The next tier is white cake with raspberry jam filling. After that, yellow layers with butterscotch filling; and the top is a repeat of the bottom. The flavors were all my friend Crystal's invention; and everyone said the cake tasted wonderful! I have no idea how it tasted; I was in no mood to eat any of it after 2 days of baking and assembling it. I had done some taste-test trial runs with the recipes before, and they were great; so I think it was okay.
Anyway... the wedding was held at a historic Antebellum home in my hometown, and the reception was held at the home of the parents of the bride.
I wore the dress from this post; which was expertly altered by my Mom. My look was entirely 1950s; except for I had no hat to match the dress. :(
My weekend also included my nephew's 2nd birthday party, and attending the Memorial Day Ceremony at the Historic Caswell County, NC Courthouse on Monday; following some morning thrifting and yard sale-ing. We also went and saw the movie Thor; which, in my opinion, rocked.
Here's my 2 favorite things from my weekend yard sale-ing:
(Small enamelware pitcher with floral design on the front)
(Awesome apple green saucer with raised floral design.... I would trade almost my other dishes for an entire set of these!)
Sorry, I didn't take photos of the entire process; but I assure you: I did make it. With great help from my sister, Naomi.All of the icing is coffee flavored. The bottom tier is chocolate, with Kahlua for flavoring. The next tier is white cake with raspberry jam filling. After that, yellow layers with butterscotch filling; and the top is a repeat of the bottom. The flavors were all my friend Crystal's invention; and everyone said the cake tasted wonderful! I have no idea how it tasted; I was in no mood to eat any of it after 2 days of baking and assembling it. I had done some taste-test trial runs with the recipes before, and they were great; so I think it was okay.
Anyway... the wedding was held at a historic Antebellum home in my hometown, and the reception was held at the home of the parents of the bride.
I wore the dress from this post; which was expertly altered by my Mom. My look was entirely 1950s; except for I had no hat to match the dress. :(
My weekend also included my nephew's 2nd birthday party, and attending the Memorial Day Ceremony at the Historic Caswell County, NC Courthouse on Monday; following some morning thrifting and yard sale-ing. We also went and saw the movie Thor; which, in my opinion, rocked.
Here's my 2 favorite things from my weekend yard sale-ing:
(Small enamelware pitcher with floral design on the front)
(Awesome apple green saucer with raised floral design.... I would trade almost my other dishes for an entire set of these!)
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
VERY Basic Flower Arranging
These are my birthday flowers; from my parents.
They're the Sam's Club variety spring bouquet of sweet pea, a rose, two pink carnations, a green daisy thing (Can't remember the actual name) and some fillers like purple carnation and some other kind of little purple flower that looks like a weed. (Sorry. I am not good at recalling all the flower names.)
But after a few days of them sitting on my table in the green florist vase, they just looked mashed together and as if they were languishing... so I had to arrange them. :)
I am not super good at flower arranging, like my girlfriends Susi and Lisi; who had a business arranging flowers for weddings not long ago. I had occasion to help them with the flowers for several weddings - including my own; and I picked up a few skills along the way - although not anywhere near theirs.
Anyway - so I picked out one of my favorite vintage vases, and a vintage "frog" - a heavy metal thingy that helps the stems stay in position.
Next I cut all the stems way down - from about 14 inches to only 6, 7, or 8 inches. First I stuck in the rose, the green daisy thing, and the pink carnation - now only 1 carnation, as Dodge snatched one when my back was turned and shredded it! Grrrrrr.......
Then, I used the sweet pea and the other little fillers to fill in the gaps; trimming the stems to lengths needed to get a proper shape; without long leggy things sticking up all over.
After that it still looked like it "needed" something, so I put a couple stems of white and lavender hyacinth in the gaps. Now, it was perfect and smelled wonderful, too.
I love Spring!
They're the Sam's Club variety spring bouquet of sweet pea, a rose, two pink carnations, a green daisy thing (Can't remember the actual name) and some fillers like purple carnation and some other kind of little purple flower that looks like a weed. (Sorry. I am not good at recalling all the flower names.)
But after a few days of them sitting on my table in the green florist vase, they just looked mashed together and as if they were languishing... so I had to arrange them. :)
I am not super good at flower arranging, like my girlfriends Susi and Lisi; who had a business arranging flowers for weddings not long ago. I had occasion to help them with the flowers for several weddings - including my own; and I picked up a few skills along the way - although not anywhere near theirs.
Anyway - so I picked out one of my favorite vintage vases, and a vintage "frog" - a heavy metal thingy that helps the stems stay in position.
Next I cut all the stems way down - from about 14 inches to only 6, 7, or 8 inches. First I stuck in the rose, the green daisy thing, and the pink carnation - now only 1 carnation, as Dodge snatched one when my back was turned and shredded it! Grrrrrr.......
Then, I used the sweet pea and the other little fillers to fill in the gaps; trimming the stems to lengths needed to get a proper shape; without long leggy things sticking up all over.
After that it still looked like it "needed" something, so I put a couple stems of white and lavender hyacinth in the gaps. Now, it was perfect and smelled wonderful, too.
I love Spring!
Monday, September 28, 2009
Weekend Travels and Homecoming Surprises!
There is nothing like a refreshing weekend among friends to brighten your day(s). Such was my weekend! My sister Naomi and I traveled to Harrisonburg, VA to visit with our BFFs since girlhood Lis and Su . (Make sure to dig their blogs.)
We four have known each other for over half of our lives. We grew up together, and we grew up with their husbands as well! Our friendship runs deep; and we seem to be more like sisters than friends. I could go on and on about my sentiments about them but I will save it.
Anyway, so Susi and her small daughter Violet just moved here from her home in Washington (state) after her husband Ben deployed to Iraq (for the second time).
Lisi (who happens to be her sister, did I mention that?) and her two children Sofi and Judah drove across the country with Su and got back one week ago. (make sure to read all about it on their blogs.)
Naomi and I hauled a load of furniture "up the mountain" for Susi's rented townhouse there.
Susi made Belgian Waffles for breakfast (with help from Violet.)
Lisi's hubby Jeremiah, Naomi, and friend Nick discuss unloading the heavy pieces from my truck. It was a cold, rainy day for it...........
Naomi admires the walls in the kitchen we all painted together, whilst cracking jokes and remembering old times together.
The weather was nicer on Sunday and we went out for tea. But the Tea Rom was closed, so we settled for tasty "Gilato" instead. (Basically, an Italian form of ice cream.)
It was such a great weekend. It was far too short. I will simply have to return and pick up where we left off.
Of which part of the weekend did I suffer love for the most, you ask?
As Beatrice says in Much Ado About Nothing: "For them all together."
Ya'll come back now, 'hear?
We four have known each other for over half of our lives. We grew up together, and we grew up with their husbands as well! Our friendship runs deep; and we seem to be more like sisters than friends. I could go on and on about my sentiments about them but I will save it.
Anyway, so Susi and her small daughter Violet just moved here from her home in Washington (state) after her husband Ben deployed to Iraq (for the second time).
Lisi (who happens to be her sister, did I mention that?) and her two children Sofi and Judah drove across the country with Su and got back one week ago. (make sure to read all about it on their blogs.)
Naomi and I hauled a load of furniture "up the mountain" for Susi's rented townhouse there.
Susi made Belgian Waffles for breakfast (with help from Violet.)
Lisi's hubby Jeremiah, Naomi, and friend Nick discuss unloading the heavy pieces from my truck. It was a cold, rainy day for it...........
Naomi admires the walls in the kitchen we all painted together, whilst cracking jokes and remembering old times together.
The weather was nicer on Sunday and we went out for tea. But the Tea Rom was closed, so we settled for tasty "Gilato" instead. (Basically, an Italian form of ice cream.)
It was such a great weekend. It was far too short. I will simply have to return and pick up where we left off.
Of which part of the weekend did I suffer love for the most, you ask?
As Beatrice says in Much Ado About Nothing: "For them all together."
Ya'll come back now, 'hear?
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