San Francisco

This city is beautiful! The architecture of the homes is fabulous and even though they are practically stacked on top of each other, each home has its own unique style. I'm amazed at the number of people crammed in so little space, and frankly, I'll stick with my home in suburbia nestled on an acre.

My sister and I are content to spend the evening at our hotel. I believe the plan is to take advantage of the swimming pool and hot tub this evening. We've just eaten chips and salsa, carrots and ranch dressing and soda for the fourth night in a row. I think I'll talk her into dining elsewhere for tomorrow. The breakfasts have been marvelous. There is such a variety offered in the mornings--I could eat there every day of the week and be just fine.

A little boy at the next table made a comment about the man sitting across from us who had only one leg. Mom and sisters hushed him quickly. I don't know this for a fact, but I think the gentleman would've gladly responded to the little boys inquisitiveness. I think I would have used that as a teaching opportunity. The man is probably used to inquisitive children. I wonder if the man is a veteran.

Speaking of veterans, the Golden Gate National Cemetery is beautiful this weekend! Numerous flags decorate the gravestones and the roads. I'm glad there is a place of beauty to recognize the men and women who gave everything in order for us to enjoy the freedoms we enjoy. My sister and I could not find the way into the cemetery, but it was beautiful. I think I would have cried had we been able to go in and visit. Perhaps that is something we will do tomorrow.

As far as I know, things at home are going pretty well. Aside from the fact that my youngest twin has a scratch from above his eye to below his cheekbone, I believe they are doing well. My husband seems to be hanging on alright. He misses me, but he seems to be doing okay.

I'll blog more about our adventure in San Francisco and our day with the legendary Arthur Duncan when I return home.

Blessings to you all,
the PTSD Widow

Reflections from the Widow's Sis

In the stillness of my soul, I reflect to see all that I desire and hope for--
all I honestly wish to be. Laying all things aside and resting in my
place under the sun, I am able to pray diligently for God to change my heart and
help me become the best I can be. Once again, I try to figure out the pieces of
the puzzles of this life, but to no avail. Why? Because often it seems
as if the puzzle changes.... not in the size, for the size of life remains the
same and only God knows the number of "pieces" needed to complete its intricate
design.... not in the shape of the pieces already cut, for they are now memories
of days gone by.....but it changes in the picture and the quality in which it is
seen. With each choice that is made, every word that is spoken, and everything
seen and even heard, objects from the far off horizons are brought to the front
and those tiny brush strokes are highlighted differently, as if in an
unspoken hue.


And as I sit and watch this new panoramic view unfold before my questioning
eyes, I realize that there truly is and was a reason for every drop of color,
every shape and dot made by pencil, pen, chalk, and paint. The marks that are
permanently etched, brushed, drawn out, and sketched ever so lightly on every
single portion confuse my mind as I look at them individually. I remember so
well some of those times and how awful the hurt was to have the most beautiful
shade of the finest pink appear to be ruined when the artist allowed its
brilliance to be covered by horrible shadows of the deepest and darkest of
all colors. Why did it have to be this way? What was wrong with this unique
variety of pink in my life? Why the change?? Why the sudden cut? Why the
need to alter or modify the perfect shape? Wouldn't it have fit the way it
was??

By stepping back, I allow God to repeat this process of revelation by letting
Him put this tapestry of messy blotches and meaningless shapes and forms
together in their correct places. I hope only to be able to see even a partial
view of all that is meant to be. --Maybe some sort of clue as to where this
particular day of recollection fits into it all.??

As I watch the hands of the Master Puzzle Maker turn the pieces and move them to
their proper positons without altering the form or single imprint of the design,
I begin to understand some of the "why's." For before me stands a majestic
mountain. Yes! The same mountain I have noticed before in the far boundaries
of this familiar picture that I look at daily. It is perfectly shaded in the
darkest of colors. A mountain that took several pieces to complete....
several layers of deep and crucial colors to reveal every cliff, canyon, and
crevice that lies within it. A mountain, ...... MY mountain, that I was able to
climb successfully! I now know that I did not need any sort of a pink color
visible to the human eye to enhance its beauty. The artist knew what was taking
place and saw the picture in his mind before it even came to be. And since this
tiny mountain in the far distances of this ever growing puzzle represent that
which has already taken place, I can look beyond the cuts and "dabs" of this day
and know, that it, too, will one day be in the horizons and so small and
so beautiful, that it will only increase the value of the canvas and cardboard
it lies upon.

Love,
~The Widow's Sis

Armed Forces Day

I'm so excited! Tomorrow morning my sister and I leave for San Francisco. I was beginning to believe the day would never get here.

Yesterday, my family and I spent the day at the local army base for Retiree Appreciation Day and Armed Forces Day. I know the crowds, the every-hour cannon firing, and all the people in military garb were really tough for my husband. He managed to keep himself controlled. Later on, however, he was anxious and suffered with nausea and vomitting. Though I'm sorry that his body reacts that way to certain stressors, it was nice that he didn't get angry or yell.

I wondered how many veterans or families were walking around on base that day who might have benefitted from www.FamilyofaVet.com. I thought of the tremendous support and information available through their website. Next year, perhaps, I'll be sitting at a booth during the Armed Forces Day celebration to spread the word. I wonder who I'll need to contact to get the ball rolling on this idea.

Our boys discovered the Civil Ware re-enactment. One of the boys stood by the weapons in a Civil War era uniform for much of the day. He looked so handsome. I believe the boy is officially a self-declared geek. (My son hugs me and laughs when he affirms his geekiness. I love it!!) Both boys had a wonderful time talking to people, hanging out, and engaging in all the events on base. The best part of the day for them?? There were people giving away free boxes of Girl Scout cookies. "I mean, Mom, can the day get any better?"

I need to get ready for a busy day, so I'll close for now. I may not be able to blog until next week--San Francisco, here I come!!

Blessings to you all,
the PTSD Widow

A Bountiful Fishing Trip

My sister and I are preparing for a girls-only trip to San Francisco. We leave on Monday and will return next Saturday. We have never taken a mini-vacation from our families and just taken time to play, so that's what we've planned to do. No husband, no children, no animals, no set schedule. We are just going to have a good time and enjoy our freedom.

I'm a little concerned about the husband, however. He doesn't always do well when I'm away for too long. Just yesterday he told me how the boys are different when I'm away--how they seem to walk on eggshells and act afraid of him. At least he notices--hopefully, he'll be more gentle with the boys and use a softer tone. If you are inclined to pray, please pray for my family while I'm away.

The husband and I have had a couple of really good days. Thursday evening we went fishing, and I caught six fish--two got away just as I was reeling them to the bank, and one was too small to keep. The husband caught one--a keeper. Anyhow, it was amazing because there was this ten-year-old boy at the lake who was was fishing with a friend he called "Mr. Tuck." Mr. Tuck was inexperienced, so my husband helped the boy rig his pole. Needless to say, the boy caught a fish and reeled it in while Mr. Tuck went home empty-handed.

We also saw this Aussie daddy with his four children. He was so gentle with those kids, and it was fun to listen to him talk! Aussie daddy made sure that all four of his children had a magnificent time. They were still fishing when we left but had already caught seven trout. It goes without saying that catching fish will make any fishing trip fun.

My own boys are growing up. They don't want to go fishing with us much anymore. They'd rather go out with girls or hang out with their friends. Who can blame them? The boys were at youth group while we were fishing. They can't tell me about what they talk about during youth group "because of the content, Mom." They promise to tell me when it's more appropriate to share. I have no doubt they are receiving truth and a godly influence, so I can respect their need for privacy.

Guess I'll go back to bed now that I've written a book.

Blessings to you,
the PTSD Widow

My nightmare...

Have you ever woke up from a nightmare only to realize that your husband is still gone? Honestly, it would have been nice if he were home because then he could have talked me down from my nightmare. At least it wouldn't seem as if all is not well in our home. I had to go check on the boys to make sure they were still home (they've been in bed for the last three hours)--that's how scared I was.

It's not very often that I have such vivid dreams or even remember my dreams. This one scared me. Usually, I dream about other people's children and have come to recognize this as a signal I need to pray for that family. This time, my nightmare was about one of my own children. This means I will pray ever more fervently for God to provide His protection over my son and to help with my son's attitude.

If my husband were home, I could have shared this nightmare with him. I don't know if I would still be shaking, but at least he would have been here. PTSD stinks! Not only is my husband emotionally unavailable, he's often gone AWOL from our home when his presence would have been beneficial.

Guess I'll try one last time to call my husband and then try to go back to sleep. Though I'm relieved it was only a nightmare, I'm still alone.

Blessings to you all,
the PTSD Widow

Just a comment...

Words are powerful, and they can be powerful triggers for my husband's PTSD symptoms. I learned this once again the other day when he was looking at a package of frozen hashbrowns. There was a recipe for cheesey potato casserole (or something like that) on the back of the package. He was telling me all the ingredients and how this recipe sounded so delicious.

Little did I know that my words in the next few seconds would ignite an hour-long lecture, elevate his blood pressure, cause steam to emit from his ears and set the harsh and edgy tone for the rest of the day.

All I said was, "Oh! That sounds like the recipe for funeral potatoes..." I couldn't even finish my innocent thought before he went off! I just made a simple comment. Instantaneous trigger! He yelled, "Why do you always have to bring up dead people? You're always talking about funerals!" Then he continued for at least an hour about how I ruin all foods by bringing up death or something most people find disgusting.

In my defense, I don't always and I don't ruin everything. Funeral potatoes is a dish often brought to grieving families because they are easy to heat and eat and they are meant to serve a lot of people. I hadn't even heard of any other name for this dish before the other day. In fact, one can google "funeral potatoes" and several recipe sites are listed. I totally missed it--I had no clue that my referring to the recipe as funeral potatoes would yield that kind of overreaction! DUH! How could I have missed that one?

The more my husband thought yelled about it, the angrier he became. I had to walk away and remove myself from the situation. I was getting angry too, and he gave me no opportunity to defend myself or try and talk him down. I left.

What can you do when your beloved is making an innocent comment a matter of life and death national security? ( Don't want to mention the "death" word!)I can laugh at the situation now because it's over, but I'll be careful not to laugh about this in my husband's presence. Oh, and I'll be more cautious and selective about which of my powerful words I speak when he's around.