A pile of blankets to keep me warm

on this chilly night.

A list, because I’m uninspired this morning.

1. Whenever I’m in the car and the song “What’s my Name?” comes on, I pretend like I’m Rihanna.  If it’s the version featuring Drake, I still pretend like I’m Rihanna except suddenly I’m singing a duet.

2. Last night I dreamed I was taking the little girls swimming but there were alligator eggs nearby.  Where do I come up with this stuff?

3. I think some of you didn’t believe me when I said that I tried Chinese food for the first time ever recently.  Really, I had never had Chinese food in my life before that night.

4. I need to write a whole post about the normal foods I’ve never tried.  Spoiler alert: these foods include ranch dressing, mayonnaise and sweet potatoes.

5. Snuggles and Cuddles have been acting awfully cute lately.  I suspect that they’re up to something naughty.

Wanted to drive up to the hospital after work,

but my body is literally worn out.

So, I made myself stay home.

(And work. Edit, edit, edit!)

P.S. – My grandfather walked today.

Late last week, my grandfather had a heart attack.  On Friday afternoon, I left work and headed to Knoxville where he was preparing for open heart surgery.  During the surgery, they did five bypasses.  Five.  I still can’t believe it.

I don’t write a lot about my family, mainly because I’ve never had a family member of mine say “Gee, Amy Beth, I sure would love it if you’d write about me on the internet.”  My mom doesn’t mind when I blog about her, but I try to respect my more private family members by keeping them off my hot pink blog.  With that said, I have a very small immediate family.  Over the last three days, as I’ve waited anxiously in the ICU waiting room with my family, I realized that it’s the most time we’ve all been together in the same room in years.  Family is probably one of the biggest themes in my life, so even though I hated the circumstances that brought us together, I spent most of the weekend wishing it wouldn’t end just because it meant we were all together.  I would trade every item I own to have my family close-knit, together.

While I waited for my grandfather to wake up from open heart surgery, I thought about how MacKenzie was moving to another state during those very hours.  I found myself going through old files on my computer and pulling up picture after picture of my times with her over the last five years.  As I was going through them, I decided to pull them together so you could see them, too, if you’re so inclined.   It’s hard to sum up my love for her in three minutes, but I think you’ll like getting to see all the adventures we’ve been on together.  This wasn’t just some fly by night thing in my life; I have invested in that child and I am the better for it.

Make sure you turn up your sound and have your tissues close by.

My welcoming committee when I arrived back in town tonight.

– — –

Facts:

1. I wish I could stay with my grandfather at the hospital.

2. I have to work though.

3. I may drive up there every night this week when I get off work.

4. That’s what granddaughters do, you know.

5. Don’t tell my grandmother about my plan or I’ll be in

t-r-o-u-b-l-e.

Weekend in the ICU, willing my grandfather to be okay.

I brought my laptop to get some work done.

I didn’t get any work done

but my grandfather did wake up.

He’s the only grandfather I’ve got

so I need him to stick around awhile.

(Posted late, but taken on day 22.)

My grandfather had a heart attack.

I left work so I could be there

when he had open heart surgery.

Five bypasses, on my dad’s

– his son’s –

birthday, no less.

Happy birthday, dad?

(Posted late, but taken on day 21.)

The funny thing about life is that it marches on, no matter what circumstances are swirling around.  As I’ve tried to come to grips with the change of no longer having MacKenzie living close to me, I’ve been a bit amused and maybe even a little comforted by how there are still mouths to feed and bathtubs to drain and laundry to fold.  One girl is leaving, yet there are still others here that need me particularly a 3 year old, 4 year old and 8 year old.  They’ve been with me almost every night of the past two weeks that I’ve know MacKenzie was leaving.

When I first heard that MacKenzie was leaving, I confess that I selfishly thought of myself initially.  My initial reaction was stark fear that I was going to go through a grieving process similar to one I went through a couple of years ago.  If you’ve been reading my blog for awhile, you might remember that a friend of mine who was pregnant lived with me throughout her pregnancy and then left a few weeks after her baby was born.  I had spent many months pouring most of my resources — emotionally, physically, financially, spiritually — into a situation only to have it quickly evaporate.   I didn’t grieve properly and, because I didn’t, the grieving process took far longer than it could have and was far messier than it should have been.  Instead of going over the mountain, I circled it for far too long, afraid I didn’t have the emotional strength I would need to make the climb.

This time will be different, I think.  I haven’t talked with many people about my feelings surrounding it so that I can force myself to talk to God about it instead.  Since I have at least three of the little girls staying with me virtually every night at this point, I wait until I’ve got them asleep in bed and then I go take a hot shower with worship music in the background.  There, in the shower, the little girls don’t hear me cry and I can just grieve all of the emotions that have come up with this change in our lives.

As it is with most women, everything is connected and intertwined when it comes to my emotions.  Standing there in the shower, with the water turned as hot as I can stand it, everything rushes through my mind.  I wonder if I gave everything I could when it came to loving her.  Did I take the time to drive up to see her each time I had the opportunity?  Did I have meaningful moments with her in the midst of taking care of her physical needs?  Did I tell her enough that I love her?  Did I?

As I’ve been in that hot shower, working through the reality that MacKenzie is leaving, I’ve been amazed at the flood of memories that have filled my mind.  I can’t get one of them in particular out of my mind and, every single time I think about it, tears fill my eyes.

I was in grad school and was working two jobs to try to support myself so I could continue in full-time ministry to elementary, middle and high school girls.  I had no extra money, but I would save little bits here and there so I could take MacKenzie to experience the things other children got to experience.  I desperately wanted to take her to a small theme park in Tennessee and, after saving up for our tickets, we made the trip.

It was winter and the theme park was cold.  We didn’t mind though; we bundled up and we went from ride to ride, clinging to each other while we shrieked and laughed.  At the end of the day, when the sun was starting to set, we slipped into a small bakery that was unexpectedly fairly empty.  We each ordered a warm chocolate chip cookie and a container of milk.  We sat there by the window, still wearing our winter warmies, watching the people go by.  I remember looking down at her and seeing her little face looking up at me, happy as can be as she took a bite of her cookie.  In a split second, the weight of her not having a mother in her life hit me like a ton of bricks.  Sitting in that little bakery, I made a vow to myself to do whatever I could to be some type of maternal figure in her life for as long as she was in my life.

I don’t know a lot, but I do know this.  I have loved that child as hard as I could these past five years.

Blew a fuse and now the dryer isn’t working.

Jeepers!

You know those girls who don’t need a man,

’cause they’d rather fix everything themselves?

I think I’m going to have to become one

whether I like it or not.

(Well, either that or I need a husband handyman.)

Last weekend, I said goodbye to MacKenzie.

I’ve written a lot of posts over the last few months about how afraid I’ve been of the possibility that, at any time, any one of the fabulous five could leave my life.  Whenever I think about them leaving, I rank them in order of “most likely to be taken out of my life” to “least likely.”  It’s weird, but when you’re scared of losing something you love, you calculate what risks you’re taking by investing your heart in them.

I’ve always ranked MacKenzie as the least likely to leave my life.  I’ve known her the longest (five years now) and, even though she’s the only one of the fabulous five that doesn’t live in my town, I have the most stable, consistent relationship with her.  We don’t see each other as much as I see the other four girls, but I consistently go to her town to get her and bring her back to spend the weekends with me and the other girls.  I also go to her school for class parties and play performances and everything in between.  My relationship with her has been different from that of the other girls, but I’ve poured just as much love and effort into it.

MacKenzie’s dad, who raises her on his own, is moving to a different state and marrying someone who lives there.  Everything happened very quickly and I had a really short amount of time to adjust to the idea that she’s leaving, much less say goodbye to her.  When I say “a really short amount of time,” I mean two weeks.  That might seem like a long time to a lot of people, but when you’ve loved a child for five years, two weeks isn’t very long to figure out how to say goodbye and adjust to the idea that, suddenly, this child has a mother figure in her life.  To complicate matters even more, it originally looked like she would still be here for at least another month or two but that changed, too; instead, she will leave Tennessee in the next couple of days.

And so, this past weekend, I went to say goodbye to her.

– — –

Best I can tell, we become adults through little moments and big moments.  During the hour and a half drive to say goodbye to her, I became a little bit more of an adult.  I was gripping the steering wheel so tight that my hands started aching.  Every time I think about the fact that MacKenzie is leaving, I still feel this strange sense of confusion wash over me.  All of this came out of the blue and, suddenly, MacKenzie is leaving.  Maybe it isn’t as much confusion as it is disbelief.  MacKenzie is leaving?  MacKenzie is leaving.

I spent the afternoon with her, saying goodbye the only way I knew how.  We went to several places, recreating some of our favorite moments together.  We played and had ice cream and cried.  I took lots of pictures and tried to memorize every single second of our last normal afternoon together.  In the end, I took her back to her dad early because I felt like I was going to suffocate with all the memories that were rising up in me as we tried to say goodbye.  I can stand feeling the confusion and disbelief myself, but I can’t stand to watch those emotions fill a child’s eyes.  On the way to her dad’s apartment, we had one of the most heartbreaking conversations of my life.  She is afraid I will forget her, now that she will be several hours away from me.

I will still be a part of her life, as long as her dad and new stepmother allow it.  But I know that change begets change and, from this point forward, MacKenzie will likely need me less and less.  With everything in me, I’m hoping that this change in her story turns out for the best for her.  I’m powerless to change any of this, so that’s the best I can do.  I can hope that this is love for her father and for her new stepmother and, most of all, for MacKenzie.  After all, I’ve been praying for MacKenzie to have a mother for years now; this could be the answer to those prayers.

Letting go of something you love must be another part of becoming an adult.