Scribbles and Bits

I spotted a bearded ax at the renaissance fair one year and joked that with it, I could finally stand up to rude and unruly family by merely greeting them at the door with the dragon-etched tool. It drew a laugh from my grandma and the next day, that ax hung on my wall. I shared the story with our bible study group last night when the subject had somehow turned toward toxic relationships. You see, I never actually wielded that ax while opening the front door to dubious family members, but the idea took on a life of it's own. Whenever family pushed Grandma to the point where her health or safety was affected, I would ask "do you need me to greet them with an ax?" With a simple yes, I would step in and be the muscle that she needed. I would announce the unpleasant news or dispense the medicine of action needed to steer Grandma back to health. The idea of the ax was like an extra backbone, someone to step in when boundaries were ignored, or be a source of strength when som...

The question came up today: What do you want for Christmas? Now, you might be thinking "Isn't November a little early to jump into Christmas?!" but stay with me on this... For the last decade, Christmas has been bittersweet. It's the time of year when my grandma swears she's dying and that this is her last Christmas with us. We deck the halls and binge on Christmas movies until we're convinced that love is just one kiss under the mistletoe away. Christmas isn't a day, but months of fighting with darkness. Three years ago, just after quitting my job to be a full-time caregiver, we found ourselves sitting vigil at Grandma's bedside in the hospital. For two weeks, we wondered what would become of us if she didn't recover from whatever mystery that had left her unable to communicate and unaware of her surroundings. Since then, each week (sometimes, each hour) has been lived in a kind of triage as we try managing the pain and heartache that comes w...