retrospect

Two things I have learned since my last post:

1) never write a post that complains about being busy because your friends will walk on eggshells around you to give you space. I wrote that more in reference to work and chore projects, but I am always game to spend time with a friend!
2) never cheer against your husband's team because it might come true. I wasn't cheering against them, I just enjoyed a good game from a somewhat neutral vantage point. The tides turned, however, with two minutes left in the game when I sent my dad a text that read, "The goalie :(" He knew exactly what I meant because I always feel horrible when they show a goalie after one has just gotten past him, or the kicker when he's just missed a crucial field goal. You get the point. I feel bad when the hopelessness and dejection sets in, all over their faces.

The funeral went well. He was such an amazing man. I could write an entire post about him and my memories and impressions of him, but let's just say this: for a man who suffered from cancer for over 6 years, he once told me that suffering was relative. That he'd gotten news of a relapse just because God had more work for him amongst the nurses and staff in the Portland chemo ward. It was great to see evidence of his hard work all around me. His funeral was standing room only, not only filled with his church family, but from fellow Nazarene pastors across the country, his large family, his doctors and nurses, and random people in the community that he had blessed in some way. The church looked like the Garden of Eden with 53 flower arrangements sent with sweet notes from well-wishers and loved ones.

It was great to support and help his wife and three daughters this weekend, get a quota of fresh mountain air to last me until next time, and eat as much marionberry everything as I possibly could. I got to read and write on our travel journey, and on the way back, we sat next to an older man who imparted wisdom and stories on us from an impressive war history, 8 collegiate, master and doctoral degrees, and almost 50 years of marriage.

On the way home, I finally started Henry David Thoreau's "Walden," and I will leave you with this quote that kind of has to do with my last post, and will definitely come with more commentary in a post coming soon:

"The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called
resignation is confirmed desperation."