The Richest Feeling in the World

One day before he died, his wife washed him with water and washcloths. 

I've had the privilege of sitting with my uncle in his last week before he died. These moments (pictured) were some of the last moments this wife had to serve her husband, literally the day before he died. He'd been in the hospital for weeks and she wanted to wash him. Being hooked up to so many tubes she got a bucket with warm water and washcloths and washed him. There was some time I had with him alone, before this, while she went away to get ready for the move to hospice that was to take place in just a few hours. I brought my dad's journals with me (journals he wrote in while he was sick before he died) in hopes to read them to my uncle to give him some comfort. Words that may make him feel he is not alone in this final journey on Earth.

"A favorite honeymoon memory is....
       On our wedding night, we stayed at a flea bag motel called the Hickman Motor Lodge, making distant plans for a distant honeymoon that we have cared less and less about, to some ever-changing location. The tree of love has many branches and roots. God has let me see the roots of my tree; a privilege I thank Him for.     My Honeymoon- that special bloom in a marriage- began March 1, 2000 when doctors told me even "Ziebart" won't help my body. I have fallen in Love with Lyn more than ever in my life, more than I have words to express. From the depths of my soul I am overwhelmed with a closeness I could have never imagined. I have never felt so full of Love and so loved, so safe, so cared for, as I do now. I love everyone ten times more, but I love my mate 100 times more. God, Lyn, my family - I am the richest man in the world... 
    ...... to infinity and beyond!"  
                                                                              ~journal entry written by Joseph Ruppert, Jr. 

When I got finished reading that passage, I looked up at my uncle and witnessed the gladdest smile, his wrinkles like sun beams brightening his face, his eyes were closed with gratefulness and he said, "Yes! THAT is soooo true! I love her sooo much!"

Suffering Always Leaves Behind a Gift

This last couple months has been extra hard for me. I was extra depressed, not able to deal with certain anniversaries and I have been having health issues. I had decided enough is enough. I signed myself up for some counseling and finally went to the doctor for whatever drugs that may help me. The doctor actually found that I had hypothyroidism, which explained almost all of my symptoms. So... I'm crazy, but I'm not crazy....  I'm still seeing my counselor for the chronic stress part of things.

Things kinda got worse before I started feeling better (for now), so I feel like I'm coming out of this dark cave of sickness and finally getting some light on my face. 

So.... in efforts to get back to blogging more regularly, I wanted to share with you this nugget. This video always reminds me of the gift that suffering can bring. I hate suffering. I have fought and wrestled with "why we are here if all we do is suffer" as it seems to be so much of the time, especially when I'm in these caves of darkness, and I know I'll continue to wrestle. The cave consumes me and tells me lies that this is all there is. But it's simply not true. When I suffer, those are some of my most intimate moments with God. When I suffer, it shows me empathy that I can then share with others who are suffering and lost.
I know the cave. I can acknowledge that it's there.

But it is not all there is.

And you will get out. 

And it's not until you get out, that you see the gift that it left. 


Enjoy this video "Rain" by Rob Bell from his Nooma series. (it's 10 minutes long, but it's well worth the encouragement) 

Not this time. Not this year. Making U turns in the grieving process.

 On the 7th of September, every year, I open the box of yellow cake mix, stir in the oil and eggs, and then slowly and gently fill each paper cup with that thick pudding-like batter. As they bake, you can smell cake throughout the whole house. After they cool on the cooling racks, I carefully smooth the chocolate fudge frosting over top. A bowl of M&M’s waits patiently to be picked through. The blue ones are what I’m after. I place a single blue M&M in the middle of each cupcake, donning the symbol of her endearment, “blueberry.” It is her birthday after all. What’s a birthday without cupcakes?

I raise no decorations throughout the house. No presents are ever bought. Only letters are written. Notes from the kids; from siblings, cousins, and the friends she would’ve had, tucked away in helium balloons to send off to the sky in imagined hopes of her retrieving them. Then we eat the cupcakes.

The cupcakes that were meant for a little girl…

…a little girl that’s not. here.

Not here.

I’m a jealous mother. I want to hold and squeeze my blonde hair, blue eyed 8 year old girl. The one that would be turning into a little woman so fast before my eyes. The one that would be my niece’s sanity in the midst of being surrounded by boys. The one that would be teaching her younger sisters everything she knew, because... you know... she would know everything... Ah, I am so very jealous! It makes me angry. But mostly, it hurts. It hurts a lot.

This year will be 8 years. Why, after doing this for 7 years, am I coming to a point this year where I don’t want to do it? (I’m not sure I have an answer to that) I can’t promise I’ll feel like this next year, but for some reason, I just can’t do it this year. Not this time.

And that’s okay.

I’m not okay. (Don’t worry, I’m getting help for that.) But it’s okay that I do what needs to be done. If it’s going to be too much this year, then I call it off. This is part of my process. And I’m allowed that.

Sometimes in the midst of doing things consistently, you have to check yourself and make sure you are still okay with it. It’s okay, to be okay, with things that people deem weird. And it’s okay for you to not be okay, with things that people are expecting. You may get some push back, but it’s not about them. This is about allowing yourself to process your own grieving journey.

For me, this year it just feels like a slap in the face. I don’t know how I did it all the other years, but this year, my face already hurts just thinking about it. (literally and figuratively) I want to be able to just break down and cry without my whole family and the few close friends watching me. My closed doors have their freedom in that. Sarah’s siblings demanded to be able to release balloons still and that’s okay, I’m conceding for them. I need to allow them that because that’s also part of my job as their mother too. They still want to celebrate her birthday and I love them for that.

Obviously no one is safe from making “U turns” in their grieving process, no matter how long it’s been. This year has been an extra hard year for me and I’m making a lot of changes. I didn’t foresee me making changes here too, but it’s what feels right, right now. And I must follow it out. There will always be next year. I’m just glad I have a supportive family that keeps up with my change of weather, call it quirky, and love me anyway.


Not-so-Happy Birthday, my sweet Sarah. Your mother just simply misses you. 

Read her story here.

Read what we did last year for her birthday here. 

Snow White is Right!

Corrodi-Schneewittli 1866/67

Our family has been binge watching Once Upon a Time, TV series. If you don't know what binge watching is, it's when you have Netflix and you wait forever for your favorite series of shows to appear for instant streaming (a whole season) and when it does, you eat, sleep, and breathe that series until it's over. It's a little sad, I admit, but most, if not all Netflix consumers do it.

There was a particular episode that stood out to me that a little voice inside my head said, "Yes. You need to write about that." It was so encouraging. Even my husband who must have been creeping on my face said, "The look on your face is priceless." -meaning... I had the cheesy, feel good smile on my face as I watched Snow White talk to her Prince Charming. Snow White said,

"How could I bring something good into a world when there was always something bad out there.... But Regina (the evil queen) will always be a problem. If not her, there will be someone or something else. There will always be something else. We can't let it define us. We have to find the good moments in between all the bad ones." 

Preach it, girl!

It is so easy to look at all the bad things in life and make that your center focus of "how your life goes." I sat with my counselor last week and listed off all the things I've been through. I spoke mostly on the bad stuff, (which is essentially part of why I'm there) but I barely mentioned the good stuff. You know... the fact that I have the best husband in the world, or about each and every one of my successful birthing stories, or that I'm blessed to be able to be home and home school, none of that. I mean, I mentioned them quickly, "Yeah, I have 5 kids at home and home school.... but but but... then THIS happened.." and the list went on.

It's so easy to get so boggled down with all the bad stuff and let it paralyze you. (and yes, I'm talking to myself now as well) It reminds me of the story of the elephant with the string wrapped around it's ankle. When they are babies, their trainers will chain them to a post strong enough to hold them. They'll struggle and struggle to get away and can't. Then as they grow, the chain slowly evolves into a simple string. All it takes is to feel that material around their ankle when they move to remind them that they are stuck and they give up, when in fact, it will take the slightest effort for them to break away.

That's what I mean by paralyzed. By fear of all the bad things that keep happening, there comes a point where one just gives up and gives in to it. "I am worn out from my groaning. All night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears." * It wraps you up like a blanket, ailing you further as times go on without your awesomeness.

When will it stop? When you choose to listen to Snow White.

Yes. Bad things happen to all people, good and bad. We all have a rough go of it. But the beauty that you are truly defined by lies within those moments in between. Counting the blessings you do have. Nurturing the friendships you do have. Raising the children you do have. Serving the community you do have. Breathing while you have breath. Speaking while you have words. Loving because you are human.

If you are waiting for your life to stop having bad moments in order to start enjoying the good things, you are missing the point. You must steal back your time. Seek out the good. Even if it's just for a moment depending on the season, seek it out. It does not come easy to do this. It's hard for some of us. Ask your closest lighthearted friend to help you. But you must walk, when you can because you can.

And because you. are. awesome.






* Psalm 6:6

Little Red Book: Swell

Your heart is breaking 
as it should. 
It breaks perfectly. 






(notes from my little red book.) 

"Time heals all wounds." ((SMACK!!!)) "No. No it doesn't"

He needed to get his ring off. He injured his hand and the swelling was just too much. It was the silver ring his bride gave him 15 years prior. His knuckles had grown since then and he never took it off, but now it was a necessity. He did everything he could to get that old silver ring off. But he eventually went in to get it cut off. With his hand on the mend, he and his bride decided they wanted to replace both of their silver rings for gold ones. It was a golden year, after all, because little did they know, that coming year was their last together.

When I saw his ring I couldn't believe the mutilation it had to go through just to get off his finger. Not only did they cut it, but it was stretched and bent crooked. It didn't even look the same. It was put away in a box for safe keeping.

He and Mom both wore their golden rings with pride. They've worked so hard for their meager earnings and to be able to wear something as lovely as those rings, shining bright for the world to see their token of love for each other was a blessing.

Cancer is very unpredictable. It surprised us all and no one knew for sure when he would breathe his last. . But sure enough, six months after being diagnosed, on a foggy night in September, alone with his bride, all five children sleeping just outside the room, he finally found Rest.

Just like that old silver ring, we were all torn apart. Cut off, stretched, and bent. I can still smell the fog of that night. It still visits me occasionally when the weather is just right.

My mother gave me that little box with his old silver mutilated ring. I had it soldered and sized to my finger and have worn it ever since.

That was 14 years ago...

It is one of the most cherished things I carry with me always.

Last year my fingers swelled so bad from my sixth pregnancy that I had to get my rings off. I couldn't get Dad's off. I stood before the jewelers, as brave as I could muster, letting the pain of it's tightness win over my grief that it had to leave my finger this way, and let them cut it off. I bawled my eyes out after that. My heart clenched itself.

It's been a year and I waited for my fingers to calm down from the weight I so thankfully put on. So I gave my ring to the jewelers to have it soldered back together and sized. After all, that ring was made to fit my 16 year old finger! We couldn't afford to pay for both rings (my wedding ring and Dad's ring) so I had to pick one. Ugh! MY WEDDING RING or DAD'S RING?!?! How was I to decide? I missed them both so much, having gone this whole year without either.

 My husband planned to pick it up and asked me, "So... which ring do you want me to pick up?"

My heart clenched again. I held my breath and I felt shame admitting that I wanted Dad's ring. "I want my wedding ring back on my finger so bad but...." I paused..." Dad's ring....it's stressing me that it's away from me. Does that make sense?"

"Yes." He said so gracefully. "Yes, it does. I don't take offense. You can wait for your wedding ring because you have me."

(I can't even write this without crying) Hearing him say those words made my heart clench itself once more and this time there was no stopping the tears. That pain! That pain is awful. I hate it. I hate when my heart does that. It makes me want to run, but I'd have no aim. It makes me want to scream, but I'm suffocating. I felt that pain when I sat next to his empty body that night and still feel it when I think about him (and my daughter we lost to SIDS).

When my husband came home from that errand, I couldn't get that ring on my finger fast enough. But as I did that, I took it off again and took a long hard look at it. It was different. A little thinner. Same old silver, but shinier. I looked for the etchings on the inside (engravings from the original jeweler, I assume) that continues to disappear with each sizing/soldering.

It is a little different. But so am I. I put it back on and took another breath.

Wounds do that to us. They change our outlook. They change the way we love. Wounds can make us bitter, or they can soften us. Most times it's a tug of war. And no matter which wins, I always end up getting muddy because life's messy.

Time does not heal all wounds. Time makes it easier to keep going on with life. Time encourages us that things are survivable. But time does not heal. My wounds will remain as long as I remember him. (and her) They remain as long as I remain different. You can't take back the wounds. The only control you have over your wounds is how you choose to love, with all your senses. How you see, hear, feel, taste, and breathe in all the beauty..... and horror.... and what then? You can let your wounds hide you in a corner when you are frightened.... or your wounds can remind you to see and act. Or they can remind you to stop and listen and enjoy.

That's a tug of war at times as well... and you can't win 'em all.

Oh The Thinks We Can Think: Heed, Allow, or Die.

When I was a teenager, there was this really bad snow storm. I was new to the driving world at the ripe age of 16. I had my 14 year old brothers in the car with me too. Everyone who knows me knows that I’m a timid driver. As a public service, I actually stay off the roads when it snows. However, this particular day, I had no choice. School wouldn’t cancel. I drove slowly that morning and got there safely. As the day progressed the storm got worse and schools finally started letting students out early. “Beautiful” I thought, “How caring of them to let us go home during the worst part of the storm!”

There is a main road just outside of the school. The speed limit was 55 but I went as slow as I desired. I couldn’t see all that well either with the wind blowing so hard. The stop light up ahead was shining red with a couple cars in front of me, so I started braking to slow down to a stop.

My car didn’t stop. I think it went faster. Within seconds, my eyes wide, I approached the car in front of me.

I slammed into that SUV with my little Dodge Shadow and the air bag slapped my cold face. I could taste that awful dust that was flying through the air as I tried to regain composure. I wanted to cry, but I looked at my scared brothers to see if they were ok so I tried to stay calm. I think I remember us arguing a little about what just happened.

A teacher jumped out of that SUV. “Oh great!” I thought. “I hit a teacher!”

As she marched over to me, I could see from behind me the cop car from the school security pulling over. Through the rear view mirror, I watched him step out of his car, slam the door shut, and slip on the ice. He held on to his car for support. That actually made me feel better. I wasn’t alone in the turmoils of this storm.

I finally got out of the car, carefully of course. There was still traffic trying to navigate it’s way through the intersection. We all stood on the other side of our cars, away from the road, while I retold my story about what happened. I was in shock as I looked at my car that was clearly totaled. 

Within minutes there was another car that started skidding on the ice towards the stop light. I remember seeing the driver who was this elderly lady with this desperate look on her face. At this point, my hearing went deaf and everything seemed to go in slow motion. I remember watching her try to regain control of her vehicle when a semi-truck started coming in from behind her. You could tell he was trying to slow down, trying not to hit her. As he tried to slow, he started to skid, bringing the back end cargo sliding closer to my car. I stood there. My jaw dropped and I froze. The cargo got closer and closer to me and then finally I realized people are screaming. But I didn’t know what they were screaming. I remained frozen, eyes fixed on the cargo, and my hearing remained muffled with shock. Then out of nowhere, the very teacher I hit with my car, grabbed me from behind and pulled me back several feet, “Get out of the way!” I could finally hear her clearly.

Thankfully, the cargo stopped just a couple feet away from my car. No one got hurt. They all sorted out and drove on. Crazy.

I don’t even remember details right after that. I don’t remember how I got home. I just know I got home with my brothers, safe and sound, my face still red from that airbag. And oh the stories we were telling Mom when we saw her. (this was, of course, before everyone had cell phones)


Have you ever had times in your life, when everything comes to an abrupt stop. It leaves you vulnerable. No one can tell what’s going on in your head. Are you ok? Are you hurt? Can you hear? See? Do you even know your own condition? The dominos could fall just right that could end you. Maybe you can hear the whispers of warning. Maybe not. Maybe then is when another person, another soul, comes and grabs you from behind in haste and pulls you away from danger, shouting your name.

That is humanity at it’s finest.

That is the hand of the Almighty working through the church.

But one of three things will happen in these scenarios:

1. You will heed the whispers and get help for yourself.

2. You will ignore the whispers, but allow the force of a friend (or many) to help you get help. And then you will look back and remember, “oh yeah… there were whispers….”

3. Death. Either physical or mental, but if mentally, the physical is always around the corner.

*If you are reading this and you have witnessed someone go down number 3, as I have witnessed many times, know that it’s not your fault. It is not your failure. You are not and have never been in control of another person. There is hope here still. There is always hope. The hope is they are now resting in His arms. You will always remember them, you will always feel the pain when you think of them, but it makes your force that much stronger.



I’ll have to ask my brothers how we got home that day. Cuz now it’s buggin me.