Dreaming On

I can only imagine how lovely my sister's spa, I mean rehab center is. She's recovering from her second knee surgery and this is her second stay at Le Normandy. Here, you read the description in her words and decide, spa or not?

I am back at "Le Normandy" - the rehab center
here on the beach and my private room is even
more splendid that the one I had before, with a
beautiful, panoramic view of the ocean through a
door-window onto a balcony (although it is a bit
too cold to spend much time out there, I can
still go out for a breath of fresh sea air!) The
second operation seems to be a success, I'm
hobbling around on me 2 new knees, or rather on
me 2 legs that are now straight and me 2 knees
will be getting stronger and stronger and I'll
probably go back to work in April and this is
still such a great rest I'm getting! The
physiotherapy is excellent, I'll be starting the
sea-water pool therapy this week, the staff are
incredibly kind and caring and the food is still
wonderful. My goodness, do I feel lucky and privileged.
************

Okay, so the place sounds like a dream come true, BUT there is that little matter of major surgery which is a requisite for getting a room there. If you don't know, my sister Kathy lives in France. They have socialized medical care there. Yeah, so I get a little confused...sometimes paying more taxes so everyone can get good health benefits seems like a good idea to me. Forgive me.

Happy Birthday Scott!

My brother keeps trying to catch up to me. But everytime he gets within a year, six months later I pull ahead again leaving him not one, but two years behind -- number wise that is. My parents have four kids in their fifties as it is. In April they'll have 5 kids 50 and over. Welcome to the club, Joan -- start getting used to it now. April 13th will be here before you know it!

Back to you Scott. Happy Birthday! The card's in the mail.

Love, Bets

A Tribute

Memories are good, comforting, and healing. My dad wrote a few memories of growing up with his sister Helen. I hope he doesn't mind me sharing.

A tribute to his sister, by Dick Bruce

Helen was "one of a kind"..............As my big sister we were very
close when we were young. She was a "tom boy" and took care of
me. (She had to because I was a wimp!) We had our own scraps but
if anyone picked on me, she would be there to finish my fights. Did
I tell you, she was the toughest kid in town!!! I was there when she
got her arm broken in the wringer, when she smashed our back door,
chasing me, and another time she was chasing me and I bounced thru
our living room front window. I was there to watch her become a good
piano player, and singer. We ice skated together and did a lot of
dangerous sledding on the highway above the school house----where we
were not supposed to be----and, ta dum*** she taught me to
dance. Later on her independence got her in a lot of trouble with
Mother and Dad but she made up for it by being a devoted caretaker
when needed. I envied her free spirit and I'll miss her.

I didn't know Aunt Helen played the piano and sang. (Oh, that explains the enthusiasm for karaoke at our family reunions.) I didn't know she broke her arm in the wringer washer. (One of my brother's got his arm caught in a wringer too. His arm wasn't broken, but I remember it turned purple. Child eaters, those things were.) Dad introduced us kids to ice skating on the Stoney Creek River too...such fond memories, and some that make me shudder.

I don't believe the part where Dad says he was a wimp. And, he certainly downplayed crashing through the window at 4 years of age. Helen chased, he ran and jumped on the couch and, oh no, bounced out the window. The lower part of his face was bleeding profusely. Grandma had to scoop him up and run to the nearest doctor. With a gaping hole in Dad's chin the doc had to work fast. He flapped the torn skin over the hole and sewed it up. It healed, but it was, and will forever be, distinctive. I still remember when a little friend asked me why my dad had a scar on his chin. I looked at her quite puzzled, "What scar?"

Grandparents, Moms, Dads, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, family. They are so familiar to us we don't see their blemishes. Their presence is taken for granted, and we don't anticipate them leaving us. But when they leave they take all their stories with them. So, go sit at someone's feet and ask for a story. If no one is coming to ask, go write down your own story. It'll mean a lot to someone someday. And while you're at it, tell someone you love them. That will mean a lot right now.

Thanks, Dad, for sharing a little bit of life with Helen. I love you...and Mom too!

Moving On

My Aunt Helen passed away on Friday, just short of her 80th birthday. We got the news that she was taken to the hospital while we were in Florida, and that the situation was dire. Somehow it's easier when you get a bit of warning. And then again, it's harder.

There seems to be no good way of leaving this world and making it easier on those left behind. An accidental passing is such a shock. A drawn out illness, even with a peaceful passing at the end, is heartbreaking. Watching someone lose their mental faculties is probably the worst. An older gentleman from church passed away the same day my Aunt Helen did. He's been in a nursing home far too long. It was difficult for his children when he didn't know them, but it was devastating when, toward the end, instead of asking "Who are you?" he asked, "Who am I?" Jesus answered that question for him on Friday. He surely told him, "You are Art, my servant and my son. Welcome home."

But what about those who never sought Jesus out during their busy lives? I believe in those last days He gives them one more chance to reach out and take that gift of eternal life. That's how I comfort myself when someone lingers through the last stages of a terminal illness. Because...when my brother was dying and I felt hopeless, God comforted me. There were no audible words, but His Spirit communed with my spirit and told me, "It's okay." My overwhelming sadness dissipated because, hey, if God says it's okay, who am I to question that? I found peace. I believe without a doubt that my brother did too. I still miss him, but I have confidence in a grand reunion...beyond the horizon...over the rainbow...out of this world.

Saving Drafts

Sometimes I get interrupted mid blog and have to save my work as a draft. That's been happening a lot lately. I never posted the one titled "New Friends" from our recent trip to Florida.

We met my Aunt Roselyn's golfing buddies, Diane, Mary, and Jean Anne. They call themselves the Link Drinkers -- no round of golf is complete without a stop at the 19th hole, the watering hole. And in their honor we went out to dinner one night at Sebring's own The Watering Hole. Cute name for a restaurant/bar. The Watering Hole's claim to fame is that it's home to a great big alligator named Bully. The gator is caged -- certainly not the greatest digs for big ole Bully, but I suppose he's well fed.

Also, while in Florida, Dad and Mom had a planning meeting for an upcoming "Pennsylvania Day" event. We met people who hailed from different parts of PA. The Centre County connections were most fun for us, that being our old stomping grounds and all. Then on the plane ride home I sat beside the nicest woman. We chatted for the entire 2 hour flight. I may never see her again this side of heaven, but when we both get there, I'll know her and she'll know me. We share a kinship in spirit, one Lord, one Father and all like that.

Which leads me to another saved draft entitled "Eternity". I'll neither post it nor summarize it just now. But I will say, today is one of those days when I long for my heavenly home. I'm not sad or overwhelmed, I just have a keen longing to see my Savior face to face. Won't that be a glorious day? It'll be a happy reunion with all those lovers of God who have gone on before. But then I think of everyone I know and love here on earth, and I'm perfectly content to stay. I'll hang out here as long as God sees fit to use me. Then whoosh, I'll be off to eternity.

Eclipse

Wednesday was a beautiful night for an eclispe of the moon, until it got cloudy. But before that happened our friend Steve got a fabulous picture.

Another Planet

Being in Florida in February is like visiting another world. How can we possibly be swimming and sunning and walking in shorts today while people at home are bundled up against the blustery cold? Soon enough I'll be back to that reality. Tomorrow rather than swimming laps in Dad's pool, strolling through the development admiring the gorgeous landscaping and colorful blooms, I'll be strapping on my skis and looping the back field. Back in that world the lay of the land is white and the trees are bare. A different kind of beautiful. And underneath my heavy coat I'll have my sunburn to keep me warm. That and the memories of a wonderful mid winter vacation...
Ta-daaa, me and my adorable little niece splashing in the Gulf
Florida house #3 for Mom and Dad. Sebring house #2. We like to walk and count the houses they used to live in.
The lap pool and jacuzzi, house #5.
The 'rents on their lanai.

Everyone Loves MySpace

Here's an update. My space just keeps getting better. If I had this wonderful spot a year or so ago my novel would be finished by now. ;-)

Davey boy's been home, he thinks it's great up here. Tom's come up to keep me company and marveled at how cozy it is. I let him take a nap on the bed.

It's my sanctuary -- and I hate to leave it to go bask in the Florida sun. Snow or Sun? Single digits or 75 degrees? I'm packing. See ya.

Snow and Sonshine

The weather map says it's 3 degrees outside, but feels like -16. I'm not going out to check if they're right. It's nearly zero and that's cold enough to keep me in. Along with that...

It was a hard week in Lake Woebegone, my hometown. The 'Lake Woebegone' isn't true. The 'It was a hard week' part is. In my hometown, and in my current stomping grounds, tough stuff, sad situations. Our preacher reminded us this morning that God is in control, He knows, He cares. And I know that and believe. God will indeed handle everything. So there, I've got that off my back.

I wrote my woes and prayer requests to a friend. She answered with this, "Because of the Lord's great love, we are not consumed - for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning. Great is His faithfulness."

Praise God, I can say with the apostle Paul, "We are not among those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who believe and are saved."

This will be a better week. Cold and snowy does not a hard week make. Even if there is no sunshine, there is always Sonshine. We'll be okay.

3 Days

When I had the second-try biopsy it was the same routine. My doctor's office would call me with results in 3 days to 3 weeks. Well here it is 3 business days with a weekend in between and I got the call. All's well. I've still got a lumpy thyroid, but the lumps (nodules) are benign. I'm fine and dandy. Now back to the more pressing stresses of life.

Kidding! I don't have any stress. Kidding again. I have 4 kids (plus). Of course I have stress. But that reminds me of a real life story. Back in the sixties when my parents were raising seven children our family had a reputation. My parents' marital bliss was a marvel, and we, their offspring, were known as those nice Bruce children. Mom and Dad were lucky to have such good kids.

Then came the seventies and a move from our rural/suburban neighborhood to a university town. A friend of mine from grade school days came to visit me at the university. She went home with a great story to tell. She had been a little hellion whose exasperated parents implored, "why can't you be like those nice Bruce children?". So she delighted in telling her parents the end of that story. "Half-way grown up now," she gleefully reported, "let me tell you about those wonderful Bruce children. One's a hippy, one got married at 18, one has truancy issues, and on it went. Yes, we all gave Mom & Dad fits in one way or another...indeed, those wonderful Bruce children. Seven children underfoot was nothing compared to seven teens sprouting wings. And the teen years were nothing compared to adulthood. In turn, we each contributed to Mother and Dad's sleepless nights, chest pains, grey hair and wrinkles.

But of course that wasn't the end of our story. Surprisingly we eventually all became responsible citizens. Through the seventies, eighties, and nineties we all married. Some married more than once. Most had kids. I know we brought a lot of joy, happiness and blessing to our parents. And we brought trials, countless worries, and bouts of sadness. They loved us through it all -- each and everyone of us. That's part of the parenthood deal. They're yours, gotta love 'em. Truth be told, you can't help but love them.

Losing one of them, which my parents did, is the ultimate grief. I can't even imagine and hope I never know that kind of sorrow.

My life is good. I've got the blessing and bane of 4 (plus) children. And I love them. I wonder if they know how much.