Horrible Hospice Holiday

The snow lingers, but nothing like if we lived in Denver. I miss the Denver blizzards in my heart. But I’m sure my body could not handle it like it once did in my youth---those awesome days when I depended on the city bus, and made snow angels with my friends in the middle of Pearl St...

I said to another of my email buddies that the holidays get harder as the girls get older simply because the “excitement years” are so precious---and so profoundly absent! Our excitements are found in the solar twinkle stakes we put at our girls’ graves--pictures of my husband doting over his little girls is not NOT the way it's supposed to be.

I can’t tell you the depth of the heartache as we struggle to accept the fact that we don’t get any more babies; that our only baby is a grown man, and that our rainbow can only be found in the hope of our grandbabies. We pray for our future DIL more now than ever before in all the years I’ve fervently prayed for her. I nearly feel pity for the poor dear. Does she know what befalls her when God steers her into our family?

And OH MY GOD (and I never say such an exclamation using God in such a horrendous manner, but this one really takes the cake)

Last week I was whining about hospice and how much I loathe them---their underhanded involvement in my daughter’s early demise, and their cheesy homemade holiday ornaments that they think will make it all good...

They came today while I was in the shower (thankfully I was able to avoid them). They left a basket at the door that Brian brought in when he got home. It reeked of chemicals---like paint or hair spray or nail polish remover; something quite toxic!

So Brian set to work unpacking it trying to decipher what it was that was making this putrid smell. He gets mid-way though and exclaims, “oh my God, they must have packed these things over a month ago cuz everything’s way past rotting!”

He pulled out apples and oranges that had rotted so far past the bruising stage that they were fermenting and giving off a chemical peel smell. I’m serious! It truly smells like someone exploded a paint can in my house (and God help them with what stench is left in their minivan--surely they smelled this thing before they dropped it off)!

So then he brings me an individually wrapped chocolate bell, figuring that we could salvage a bit of their feeble attempt at gifting. OH MY GOD, I had to spit it out the minute it touched my taste buds! If I hadn’t been such a pig, I’d have smelled it first and gotten a clue! It had absorbed a disgusting flavor of rotting orange & apple peels---very toxic! VERY GROSS!

Happy Holidays, Bacon Family

Here’s your rotted fruit basket consolation to go with the empty disappointment of cemetery celebrations

And yes, my ingratitude stinks as badly as the "gift" basket...


Anyway, I’ve felt a river of tears clogging my throat for days, and they finally let loose their sobs last night. I’ll probably have some more later after the hospice toxic fermenting fumes wear off--if that's even possible. To be certain, my life is surreal!

I miss them both so very badly. Little Miss Three Year Old and her sister, Little Miss 19Month Old---what an awesome blessing they would have been for our family. How empty our lives are this side of Heaven with them away...

They still add something wonderful to our lives---it’s just in such an “inside-out” sort of way, and there's such an anguish that accompanies the blessing. It's like the underside of a beautiful embroidery--all knots and strands, and you have to trust that the upside is just so very gorgeous. I guess that’s what earth is to Heaven, and that’s how life is most of the time...

No, they are NOT dead; they have merely moved. But Heaven’s even farther than Iraq, and there’s no letters or emails. Nevertheless, I suppose many of the soldiers have also received some pretty crap ass care package baskets for their holiday consolations--I hope not as bad as the one as we got from hospice!!!

Thankfully, Heaven is not so very very far away; and for real, The Father’s Gift brings it oh so much closer. Thank you, Lord Jesus; thank You for Your Grand & Glorious Gift...

But ya know, I’m very curious over ye who believe not in the person of Satan or his minions commissioned to assist him in his earthly efforts. Clearly, such a person exists. A car load of his deputies came to my door this very morning. Another pack of them directed my prenatal care when I was pg with Abigail...

I do not know the entire answer as to why our loving God has allowed such factions of evil to exist. I do know that most of the answers are found in Scripture if we look & listen well enough—especially to Old Testament lessons.

The answers aren’t always easy, and it’s quite natural and normal to question why. God never holds that against us. For better or for worse, there will always be a part of God that He keeps a mystery. But He does reveal much to us if we ask, seek, and knock...

Ultimately, God uses adversity to accomplish some of the worlds greatest achievements. He often uses suffering as the velvet black background in a beautiful portrait of tremendous depth.

We often prosper best under such challenges and anguishes---rather like wheat is separated from the chaff, then ground into flour. One might argue that the kernel of wheat endures excessive adversity just in the chafing & grinding process. And yet that poor little kernal then goes on to experience even greater suffering as the gluten is thereby developed through kneading, pounding and rising, and then a repeat of the process. What’s more, a risen loaf must then be baked in a blazing oven before the delicious doughy sustenance is ready for enjoyment. A grain of wheat must endure much hardship before it’s finally a tender slice of buttery toast to nourish the body and bring pleasure to the palate.

To be certain, trusting God not to scorch the hell out of my crusts has been quite a challenge. There’s many many times when I’ve wondered if the toaster of my life hasn’t been set several notches too high. In my mind’s eye, I envision this stack of toast that’s had its blackness scraped off with the edge of a knife---a sorry attempt to make it edible anyway...