Growing old

When I was about Jr. High age I noticed that Mom had a place on her arm that was kind of wrinkley. It was right below her armpit. The rest of her arm was smooth and pretty but that part was different. I don't remember not liking it. I just remember thinking that she was getting "old." Now I have that same thing on my arm. And because she had it first I have a kind of mixed emotion. I love it because it's a connection with her but I don't like the thought of being "old." The same is true of the spots on the back of my hands. I love every part of Mom. It would be impossible to think about those spots in any other way but just a connection with her. She is my Mother and my hero. I watched those hands as they lovingly put lotion on each baby. I loved their strength as she kneaded bread, fixed lunches, pounded meat, burped babies, fed the clothes through the wringer washer, stirred cream of wheat... I don't remember a time when her hands were not important to me. In fact, a few years ago I found out about a place where they would make models of people's hands and since then I've wanted to do that with my parents.
In 1995, when I had my brain surgery and my face looked funny I realized that people don't really love you because of how you look as much as how you live, how you love. And I began thinking about the most important people to me. I've stopped thinking about their physical characteristics. They seem beautiful to me regardless of how they might be viewed by society.
And the longer they are in my life, the more beautiful they become. The more I love to be with them. In fact, I notice that I am especially drawn to their odd characteristics, like bulging eyes or long nose. It's what makes them who they are.
It's still hard to look older. I'm vain and I don't like getting wrinkles or grey hair. But it takes the edge off when I realize that I am loved, not for what I look like but what I love like. If I'm loving I will be more beautiful every day.

"Home"

The bright sun sparkles off the snow topped mountains. The crisp wind blows the orange and brown leaves around the yard. I love fall time. I love being outdoors. I love where I live most when it is full of people, especially little people. Well, ok, when my children and grandchildren are home. I love working outside with Terry and smelling the way he smells when he's outdoors. Even though this is a beautiful place, I don't love it because it's a beautiful place. I love it because of the memories it has and because of the hope that more memories will be made. Most of the time lately I don't care if I come home. And that bothers me. It's comfortable, yes. But it does not bring me joy. Mostly it just seems empty.

When my Mom moved from the Ranch and went to KC and my Dad moved and married Marlene I thought my home was gone. But then I visited Mom in KC and I felt home again. Her apartment was "her" and I felt safe and loved.

For a long time the Ranch felt only painful. Like looking at an old scrap book, remembering a time of happiness and joy and wondering if it would ever be there again.

I don't remember when the Ranch became important to me again as a place of refuge. I find myself wanting to live there again. Some of it is just nostalgia I suppose. but some of it is so that I can make it a home again, a place where my children can enjoy having fun with their grandchildren. My little toddler/preschool/schoolage/adolescent legs know each part of that "home." I loved playing in the creek, catching tadpoles, riding horses, playing with calves and lambs, catching chickens, drawing houses in the dirt, pretending they were my house when I grew up. Hiking and driving into the hills, climbing trees, catching the bus. Picking apples, chokecherries, sweet peas. Riding in the back of the truck, climbing on the haystacks, chasing animals with sticks and stones. Following sticks as they floated down the creek. Wading.

I know what it is to live and play freely. I want that for my grandchildren.

But, ultimately, home is not about a place. It's about being loved, feeling free, feeling a connection with others you love. It's about feeling "safe." For me, the Ranch was a place where I was surrounded by people who loved me immensely. The same space could mean just the opposite to someone else.

I always thought when I grew older I would love to live in a small 2 bedroom home in town. Like Grandma Pyfers, Grandma McDades, and other old women I knew who always had cookies waiting and were always glad I came by.

One of my nieces told her Mother once that she didn't feel "welcome" in her own home. She was only about 3 at the time and her Mother knew it was about how critical and crabby she (Mom)had been lately.

The house I lived in when I grew up was just pretty ordinary. All of us kids in 2 bedrooms. I never thought once about it not being ok. It didn't matter that it was less than spacious and perfect. In fact, having it that way made it more perfect because we could be closer together. We had to learn to share. We had to touch. We learned to love and grow together.

At my age I am thinking more and more about my Eternal Home. I have wanted to go there all my life. I never feel as welcome as I do when I feel bathed in the "Holy Spirit". I think the place where Jesus lives will be like that, welcoming, loving, full of grace and truth. A sense of belonging. If only we could all go at once so good-byes would not be so hard.

Having a daughter

Since I have just been with Terra, my mind is on her and on the gift of daughters. This relates to my growing up. In our family, there was a boy, Dennis Keith ( Aug. 6,1948; girl, Susan, Sept.20, 1949 and then me, Carol Ann, Jan 27, 1950. Then, for a long time there were boys: James Dale, Aug 15, 1952; Randy Lee, Sept 13, 1954; Kenneth Floyd, Nov.30, 1956; Kerry Lon, Sept 12, 1961; Brian Todd, March 21, 1963. Each time Mom went to the hospital we would be at Grandma and Grandpa Sacry's house and we'd get the call and it was another by and everyone would say, "Well, boys are nice." And they were not only nice, but adored! I came from a family that LOVED little kids. Babies were always a blessing. Mom looked her best when pregnant and Dad never treated her more sweetly than when she was pregnant. And they both delighted in children. My most wonderful memories were of the little kids. Our lives centered around the adorable things they said, the cute ways they looked, the hugs and kisses. This was true of our immediate family and also all of our extended family.
There did develop along the way, however, a great desire for another girl. So when I was 17 and Jim was 15 and we were in highschool Mom was going to have a c-section and it seemed the whole school knew it. The date was March 2, 1967. We were in study hall when over the intercom the secretary asked if Jim and Carol Ann Sacry would please come to the office. The study hall came alive and many started to go with us. The study hall teacher told everyone to sit back down and we rushed to the office. It was there we learned that Diane Marie was born! As we entered the hall (the bell had just rang) and the news spread. People were yelling, "Sacrys had a girl!" It was an unforgetable moment for us. That evening we went to the hospital to see her. She was a darling girl with lots of hair and beautiful LONG eyelashes. We were so proud.
I was thinking about that when I was with Terra last week. And, for the first time, I wondered if my excitement over her being a girl was connected to those years waiting for another Sacry girl? When I was pregnant with Terra I wanted a girl badly. I had wanted to start with 2 boys. I loved having Kerry and Brian as little brothers close in age and I wanted 2 sons like them. But I really wanted a girl too. One day when I was quietly praying, I felt sure that I was going to have a girl. Sure, but with a little doubt. Could it really be true? So, when, in the delivery room I found out that I had a girl, I was elated! I kept saying, "It's a girl! It's a girl! It's a girl!" Terry said, "I didn't know you wanted a girl so bad." I will never forget when they put her up on my stomach and she began nursing eagerly. I felt somehow complete.
And when Terra was able to have twin girls I also felt a part of something bigger. My Grandma Cora had twin girls aborted when the doctor told her she couldn't carry them without hurting herself. Cousin Carla had twin girls who died a week before their due date in her uterus. And my brother, Kerry had twin girls. I wanted her to have twin girls too. But it seemed too good to be true. It was a great joy to have that thrill for my daughter.

I believe

I believe in God, the creator of eveything, the mystery, beyond my understanding. I believe God's greatest desire is for His/Her Love to be returned. Relationship. That God is like a huge ball of love, desiring us to open to that Love but will not enter us without our permission.
And I believe in Jesus Christ who is God come to earth for us. A gift so that we understand God better. And that the Cross is the greatest part of that mystery that is Jesus. The greatest part of that mystery for us is that Jesus showed that God loves us and showed us God's solidarity with us in suffering and even death. And in life ever after.
And I believe in the Gift of the Holy Spirit, my first Love. That bears testimony to Jesus Christ and God the Son and that through that Spirit we have life abundantly, and beautifully even in the worst of situations. And I believe that Holy Spirit binds us together as a human family in ways not possible through anything else. She redeems, cleanses, brings joy and peace. Through that Spirit we are able to forgive and be free from the sins that separate us from each other and from God.
And through that Spirit we are given communion and community with any and all of God's children if we choose.

Blog purpose

Hi from Carol Ann, Mom, Oma, etc.
I've decided that I want to have a blog because I think it's a great way to share my life story with my children and other family members who care. That way, if you have any questions before I die you might find the answer here and you might also find more questions that i can answer the next day. It will be very random, not chronolgical most of the time. Even if it's just a chance to express myself it will serve its purpose. I'd like to write every day, but... I know my inconsistancy and I don't need another thing to feel guilty about. So, we'll see. I love you all. Mom