Source: In My Heart

Source: My Dad

November 13, 1921 this little boy came into the world. The story was  that he was born on the kitchen table on the homestead farm outside of Loomis, Nebraska. This was in the days when the mother stayed in bed for a week, and help came in to tend to the new mama and baby. Russell Lamont Harris….a big name for a little boy.  My dad liked to tell stories of when he was little, growing up on the farm with his brother KB. My uncle’s name was actually Kenneth Bruce, but he was always  called KB.

 

One story that stands out in my mind was one of my dad riding his bicycle with a rabid dog in pursuit. He rode his bike under the windmill and grabbed onto the closest bar to pull himself off and climbed to safety. His dad then came out and shot the dog.  Dad went to a little country school through 8th grade and then into Loomis for his high school years.  He took violin lesson, and was quite proficient, later on playing in the Grand Island Orchestra where he met my mom as he tuned his violin with her help at the piano.

Dad met my mom at the Grand Island Business School, but then after the Pearl Harbor Attack, he joined the Navy and then they were married on June 23, 1945 following the end of WW2. He was a Harvard graduate, graduating Magna Cum Laude and then returned to Holdrege, Nebraska where there was a teller job waiting for him.  Then over the course of 12 years, Suzy, Cindy and Phil came along, helping to make their house a home. We enjoyed a year adding a Swedish sister too. The last time we were all together and our last family picture was at Ben and Joanna’s wedding.

My dad had a long career with the First National Bank in Holdrege, Nebraska. These were the days of no credit checks, and the hometown bank was there to help its’ own. I have had many people tell me how even when they were down and out, he believed in them to start again, and they did!

Skipping ahead now to his days of being a grandpa, there are so many stories to tell, from my perspective!! We lived on a hog farm for about 14 years east of Holdrege. My dad LOVED to come out there and drive the little tractor, and I think re-live his youth of living on the farm. One day, I commented on how early in the morning, when I was up with one of my babies, I would see a skunk scurry into our Morton building. That was a mistake.  Every morning about 5:00 we would hear a car in our driveway and my dad was out there, determined to get that skunk before it attacked one of us!! One morning we were awakened by a BOOM! BOOM! Dad proudly strode back to his car, saying after work he would come out and take care of the deceased skunk. Well….that happened to be one of those 103 degrees summer days in Nebraska. The smell of a blown up skunk hung like syrup in the air, and I could hardly breathe, even in the house! I thought I would just take care of it….putting on my playtex gloves, and armed with a stick and a big trash bag, I thought I could just snag it and swing it into the trash bag. WRONG.  I held my breath about 20 ft from the mess,  the stick was useless, so I took the tip of the tail and tried to swing it into the bag. Suddenly, holding my breath, the heat, and the sight of this fly covered corpse was too much, and I threw everything down and ran back into the house crying.   Scott came home for lunch that day, smelled the skunk about 1/2 mile away from our house and when he got home managed to get it in the trash pit and burned it. My dad always chuckled when I told this story about him, proud that he got the skunk and enjoying the humor of the scene that day.

Dad loved his family, there was no doubt about that.  As the grandchildren came along, the boys got to go fishing many times. They also were horrified at the techniques Grandpa had for skinning a fish. The girls enjoyed reading books with Grandpa, and usually a story or two about Tarzan.

There is no way to compact 94 years into this blog, but my dad was on my mind today, and I wanted to share my thoughts and a few memories. The last 9 years of his life were without the love of his life, but we all tried to fill in the gap for him when we could.

Dad lived with me for 7 of the last 9 years….and as his dementia became more unmanageable for me with my health issues, he needed to have specific care for his condition. Watching him slowly disappear was a nightmare at times, yet I knew he was also heading toward the end of his earthly journey and would soon step into eternity. I miss you Dad. I miss your big, warm hands, your chuckle, seeing you sneak into the kitchen for another cookie, your love for all of us, and just your presence.  Someday soon though…..and there will be a grand reunion. I love you.

Source: Do You Trust Me?

When you were little, did you ever play the game with a parent when you were to fall backward and trust that the parent would catch you? I did, and even with some friends that turned out not to be a good idea. And now I would crush anyone who said to fall backward and trust them to catch me! But in a small way, this was the beginning of learning what trust was.

As we journey through life, many experiences along the way begin to shape how we view the word “trust”. Any human we have a relationship with can shatter our concept of trust, and we can also do that to another. However, there is One who we can trust with our lives. His way for us is perfect, and even if the outcome remains painful, we must open our hearts to be shown how the outcome is to be used.

My early years as a young mother were difficult for me, and it took several years to determine why. I constantly felt like I had drank too many cups of expresso, even laying in bed at night. My hands trembled and my emotions were all over the place. I would be in the grocery store, choosing which kind of tuna to purchase, and I could feel a crying spell coming on. Usually I would head out to the car. I loved my boys so much, but had little tolerance to the noise and activity of three little boys. My overall sense of well being was not there, and there were many visits to the doctor, finding nothing amiss.

Gradually my physical appearance began changing. My hair became very thin, my skin had an onion skin type of thinness, and any bump left a huge, dark bruise. Masculine hair started showing up in unfortunate places. Besides my chin and neck, I was getting dark coarse hair at my cheek bones. Still nothing wrong with me. I even overheard the doctor talking to a specialist I was going to see, and heard him say “She is kind of a hypochondriac”. Well, it was a gynecologist I was to see again, after a year had passed from the first time I saw him. He commented on my weight gain, my hair loss, and the facial hair. Still nothing wrong with me though. It appeared to be hormonal in nature, so perhaps a hysterectomy would take care of it. Even though nothing showed up as wrong with my female organs, I opted for that surgery. Anything to help! The hysterectomy did not help, in fact things got worse. It took forever to heal, and my fatigue and other symptoms were getting worse. I could barely climb a flight of stairs. I found myself praying that God would take me home. The boys needed an emotionally healthy mom! I thought I must be crazy if I could conjure up all these physical changes in me. I looked in the mirror and would hear comments of “it is all in your head” from well meaning friends and medical personnel. Rumors were going around that I had a nervous breakdown.

On Easter morning, a bone in my foot broke in the grocery store. I managed to hop and hobble out to the car and drove home. I had a cast on for 8 weeks, the cast was removed and when I stepped down on it, the bone broke again. By now, I was so depressed I literally hoped for the day I would open my eyes and see Jesus, not my bedroom ceiling.

God had other plans though. It was early December, and Scott and I sang a special number in church. I had so much pain in my back, Scott had to help me to the podium. In the congregation was a medical student who was about the age of my younger brother. He had not seen me for about 10 years and was shocked at my physical appearance. He was working with my doctor for a stint, and I had an appointment with my doctor Monday morning for the pain in my back. Coincidence? I know it was not. The student came in first, very politely commenting on my appearance and thought a blood test should be run to check the cortisol level in my body. I thought, “Go ahead, you won’t find anything.” By now, thousands of dollars had been spent on tests, and once when I asked the doctor about the hair on my face, he said with a laugh “That just happens sometimes. If it gets too bad we can get you a job with a circus.”

Little did I know that this blood test was the answer key to my years of illness. I had an adrenal gland tumor. The endocrine gland system was something I knew nothing about, but what a marvelous system in our bodies. The pituitary gland, at the base of our brain is the master gland for this system. When there is enough of any of the hormones present, it will send a chemical message to that gland to stop for now. My adrenal gland tumor was ignoring the shut down message and spewing excess cortisol into my system. The other adrenal obeyed and shut down, and actually atrophied during this time. Cortisol in our body is much like prednisone in the drug world. If you have ever seen someone on prednisone, the Cushing look is similar.

Living in a small Nebraska town and seeing everyone often is most likely the reason this disease went on for so long. It had to take someone who had not seen me for a long time, and may have just studied the endocrine system as well. Things were set in motion and I went to Mayo Clinic in February. They have a whole floor for the endocrine system, and the first doctor I saw said he could tell by looking at me that I had Cushings, but we needed tests to determine if it was the pituitary gland or adrenal gland that was the culprit. It didn’t take long to know with a CT scan showing one adrenal the size of a golf ball and the other one barely visible. To make a long story short, I had surgery to remove the tumorous gland, it was benign, and after 18 months of gradually weaning off of a prednisone supplement, the remaining gland began to work.

One important part I left out was one January morning when the sun was streaming in our bedroom window. I remember getting on my knees, crying, and praying that whatever the outcome I would have peace in this storm. At this point I knew I had Cushings Disease, but did not know if it was malignant or not. I had 3 little boys, and now the thought of me dying from cancer was scary. As I prayed, I will never forget the warmth that poured over my body, and “the peace that passeth all understanding”. I can honestly say that I had peace with whatever the outcome was. God had my back, be it on earth or with Him.

This could go on with more details,  but there were many silver linings to this storm. The most important one being the adoption of my 3 beautiful daughters. I was well, felt like my life was starting over, and really wanted to have more children. Having had a hysterectomy, this was impossible but in God’s plan, I was to be their mother.

Virtually everyone of us will have storms in our lives. Some of you have or are having far more painful ones right now.  If any of you are in need of a listening ear, please feel free to share with me and I would be privileged to talk to you and pray for you to the One we can trust.