The Cowboy & the Seamstress



 

When we were little our Grandma (Ruth Wells) made matching outfits to give her grandchildren every year at Christmas.  It was always the last present we opened and the one that drew the most excitement from this giggling pile of little girls.  She would spend weeks measuring us and keeping her patterns and material hidden in her sewing room.  And on Christmas Eve we finally got to see what she had been working on.  We were never disappointed.

 

Once we had put on our new clothes and taken a thousand pictures in front of the old gas stove, Grandpa (George Claud Wells) would load us up in his pickup, or our station wagon, and take us all over town to show off our new duds.  In the mind of a child, I used to think we were showing off what an impeccable seamstress Grandma was.  It was a pretty amazing sight to see seven little girls walking up your sidewalk in matching dresses.  But later it dawned on me that Grandpa was showing off his grandkids as much as the beautiful work Grandma had done.  Gosh, they loved us so much.

 

When I think of the days Grandma spent sewing and wrapping those gifts, it brings tears to my eyes.  Back then I knew it was something really special, but as an adult my heart can hardly handle how precious it was for her to do this and that we got to share it with our siblings and cousins. I think that was her point all along.

 

I wanted to share some of these pictures this Christmas as a way of recognizing and saying thank you to Grandma for all the hours, needle pricks and times she had to wrestle us to get the correct measurements for our Christmas gifts.  And also I wanted to brag on her talent as a seamstress.  (I can hear her scoffing in Heaven telling me to hush!) 

 

Here is the first picture we have of matching clothes she made for us.  Little rainbow colored wind-breakers.  This picture speaks to the dedication and determination of our mothers to get a picture of us together.  Not one smile.  Not one.

 

This is 1977, so there were only five of us.  There were still 2 little girls and a little boy to come later..... 

 

 

from left to right:  Kelly, Cassie, Amanda, Jennie & Sarabeth

 

In 1978, Grandma got serious with the Christmas dress sewing.  Look at these precious dresses she made!  This was the year Altah joined our family.

 

from left to right:  Jennie, Cassie, Kelly, Amanda, Sarabeth and baby Altah

 

One of my favorite years was 1980.  Grandma mixed it up a little bit giving Sarabeth and Amanda the peach dresses with brown blouses and the Wells/Morrison girls the blue.  And I love the bottom picture with Grandma and Grandpa.  Sarabeth, Abby and I were piled onto Grandpa's lap and Kelly is posing with Grandma.  Uncle Bob snapped the photo and accidentally caught Grandpa smiling.  He wasn't necessarily one to smile for pictures.

 

top picture left to right:  Kelly, Cassie, Sarabeth, Jennie.
bottom row:  Altah, Amanda and baby Abby

 

1981 ushered in the year of the cousin lineup by age.  You can see our photos are getting a little more organized as we get older and our parents found ways to coax us into submission.  This lineup continues today - almost every time we are together we line up and strike a pose.  Note the mismatched, knee-high socks, oh dear!  This year we even got matching puppy-penny banks to complete the ensemble.

 

 

 

In 1982, Grandma made us matching prairie skirts and ruffled shirts.  What little girl in 1982 didn't want a prairie skirt?  I thought these were SO STYLISH!  And I'm amazed that our hem lines are all the same length even though we were different heights.  Did she do that on purpose?  I love the bows in Cassie and Altah's hair.  And Amanda and Kelly are holding hands.  Just adorable.

1983, the year of the sailor dresses!  This picture makes me smile because I imagine the conversations had by Grandma, Mom, Aunt Cathy and Aunt Sarah about making sure we had matching white socks this year.  I have to admit, the white socks do complete the look.  I also like to call this the year of the mullet.  It will be with us until the late 80s....thanks Mom.

1984 - behold a son is born!  Finally, after seven granddaughters they finally got a boy.  When Matthew was born in June, Grandpa said to my mother, "Thank you, Chloie Jan."  I swear Grandpa has tears in his eyes as he looks at Matthew in this picture.  He adored Matthew.  And the feeling was 100% mutual.

You can't go wrong with the 1985 sweater vest and matching skirts.  Sarabeth and I were excited to match for the first time ever.   Grandma must have decided it was no longer cool to wear matching dresses to church with your sisters.  But out of town cousins, no problem!  And what better compliment to the vest and skirt than the faux coach purses!  We thought we were so grown up.

 

In 1987, nothing was more rad than a comfortable sweat suit.  I don't believe Grandma sewed these, but here we are nonetheless in our lineup with Matthew bringing up the rear.

 

Matthew revolted in 1988 and decided he did NOT want to bring up the rear this year.  So he is posed right in the middle and looking just like my nephew Sawyer.

In 1990 Grandma gave us all beautiful sweaters.  They didn't match, but the theme is still the same. 

Note the nativity set over Cassie's left shoulder.  That was the neatest, most precious set of wise men, shepherds, Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus.  You might not believe it, but Grandma let us take it all down and play in the floor with it every Christmas.  Even after the angel broke her wing. I'd be embarrassed to say how old I was the last time I did that.

This was our last Christmas with Aunt Sarah.  She died December 21, 1991.  I love this picture of Grandma & Grandpa with their kids.  And I can hear Grandma's laugh from here.

Aunt Cathy, Dad & Aunt Sarah with Grandma & Grandpa

We celebrated Christmas 1991 just a couple of days after Aunt Sarah's funeral.  My Grandma made that decision without hesitation.  She wanted us all to be together and she knew we needed each other.  I love her for that. 

Christmas 1992 was our last holiday with Grandpa.  He died in August 1993.  He doesn't look well in this picture, but he was content with Matthew in his lap.  My Grandma used to say that Matthew added 10 years to Grandpa's life.  I believe that.

In 1993, Grandma made us all pillows.  By the time we were this age, the kids' table wasn't just where the little ones sat to eat Christmas dinner.  We were having very grown up conversations about all kinds of things, most of which will remain private amongst the eight of us.  I think we realized after losing Aunt Sarah and Grandpa so closely together how much we loved each other.  So we treasured each other even more and shared even more laughter and tears than ever before.

1994 was the year of the vests.  And I somehow became the shortest member of the family.

I'm sharing this picture because it was taken on Christmas Eve 1994 in downtown Tahoka.  And because I'm upside down.  Not sure whose idea that was.

Another favorite of mine - in 1995, Grandma made us each a framed picture of a little girl wearing a dress made from the same material she used to make our dresses in 1981.  And Matthew got a picture of a little cowboy wearing a coat made from the slicker Grandma had made him.  You can't see it, but he's also wearing some shiny spurs!  I think we all cried when we opened this one.

 

1996 was the last Christmas we spent at Grandma's.  It was also the year Erik joined the family.  Grandma made each of us a wall hanging.  Erik and Matthew got matching Texas Tech patterns. And for the first time I wasn't the oldest!  Erik took my spot at the front of the line which I loved.

 

Christmas of 1997 we spent at Methodist Hospital in Lubbock.  Grandma had been diagnosed with lung cancer that later spread to her brain.  We were allowed to bring a little food into the hospital waiting room along with some presents.  Then we wheeled her bed in and had Christmas as usual.  Bryce was almost one, so he entertained Grandma in his little Santa outfit as he ran around charming the nurses and all of his cousins.  Grandma died in March 1998.

If you've taken the time to scroll through these pictures, thank you for letting me reminisce.  When I look at these photos I am overwhelmed with the sounds and smells from Christmas at Grandma and Grandpa's house.  If I close my eyes, its like no time has passed at all.

But what I love most about these pictures are the faces looking back at me.  I recognize my own kids in my brother and sisters.  I recognize my nieces and nephews in the eyes of their great-grandparents.  And I see all of us for who Grandma and Grandpa saw us to be - perfectly flawed, basically unblemished little pieces of delight who they loved and doted on as long as they could.  If we could only love ourselves as much as they loved us. 

My Story as a Vet - by Jim and Chloie Jan Wells

What is a Veteran?

A “veteran” –whether active duty, discharged, retired or reserve—is someone who, at one point in his life, wrote a blank check made payable to “The United States of America”, for an amount of “Up to, and including his life."

That is honor.

Jim:                       I am honored to be asked to speak about veterans and share my story of serving in the US Army. How many of you have a veteran in your life? A father, husband, brother, friend?

Chloie:                 Jim as you all know is a quiet man of few words.  That was never more true than December 2, 1969 when The Selective Service conducted its first draft lottery since 1942.

I was in the dorm at Texas Tech along with many other girls sitting by the radio listening to the numbers being called for the draft. We were anxiously awaiting the numbers for our boyfriends and brothers, knowing that men we loved could possibly be drafted to serve and end up in Viet Nam.

The first third of the 366 numbers drawn would be drafted; the second third would be possibly drafted; and the bottom third would not be called to serve.

The unthinkable happened when my former college roommate’s husband was number 1—September 14!  I could hardly breathe until at last Jim’s number was called—April 2—number 271.  He was in the bottom third—he would not be called to serve.

Little did I know that he had already decided at some point that he was going to enlist when he graduated from Texas Tech.

Jim:                       Being part of the military was something I just knew I would always do. My granddad Hale served in France in WW I, my dad and many of his relatives and friends served in WW II and Korea. It just seemed like the natural thing to do with my life—sign up and serve.

Chloie:                 I could not wait to talk to Jim the next day to celebrate his lottery number. But when we met on Tuesday morning as I was all smiles and so thankful that he was safe from the draft, he told me he was going to enlist!. I tried to explain to him that he did not have to sign up—his number was in the bottom third—he was safe from the possibility of going to war.

Remember I said Jim was and is a man of few words…he had never mentioned to me that enlisting was part of his future and we were even talking about getting married. But Jim’s few words carry a lot of weight. He said to me, “It’s something I’ve got to do. It’s my duty to serve.” And so it began…

 

James Tom Wells, 1st Lt. in Military Intelligence, U.S. Army

James Tom Wells, 1st Lt. in Military Intelligence, U.S. Army

 

Jim:                       February 1970—My parents took me to Amarillo for induction and I was sent to Ft Leonard Wood, Missouri for basic training.  When I left Amarillo it was 50 degrees out and I was wearing my Levis and boots. When I arrived at Ft. Leonard Wood, the snow was a foot deep and it was the coldest I’d ever been.

Most of the guys in my unit were city boys from Chicago and Peoria, Illinois. And most were high school graduates or drop outs who had been drafted.  I got to call home occasionally on Sunday afternoons.  Phone calls were few and far between and only lasted a few minutes. So letters were the main way my family heard from me.

In early May 1970 I got my orders to report to Ft Benning, Georgia on June 6 for Officer Candidate School. I called Chloie and said let’s get married when I get home.

Chloie:                 The army does not give much information and certainly not in a timely way. Jim could not get a specific date for when he could come home so setting a date for our wedding was difficult. We decided to get married on Wednesday, May 27, hoping that would work.

He got home on Saturday, May 23. We got our license on Monday and had a wedding shower that evening.  The rehearsal dinner was on Tuesday, and we got married on Wednesday. We left for our honeymoon to San Antonio and Dallas, and were gone for 9 days. We came back so I could start summer school at Tech and he left 2 days later for OCS.

I did not see him again until the end of August.

 

Bridal shower held at Madeline Hegi's home, May 25, 1970

Bridal shower held at Madeline Hegi's home, May 25, 1970

 

Jim:                       OCS was a highly pressurized situation for 22 weeks. I had different leadership positions that changed every 3 days. We were either in the classroom discussing infantry, armor, and artillery tactics, or in the field where we practiced map reading, leadership strategies and marksmanship.

Chloie:                 Mother, Daddy and Ruth (Jim's mother) helped me move to Georgia in August 1970 after I graduated from Tech, bringing enough of our wedding gifts to set up housekeeping.

Family members were allowed to visit their candidates on Tuesday and Thursday evenings and we happened to arrive on a visitation day.  So that evening I went to an OCS wives meeting where I learned about the rules I was to follow. These rules were very strict and were strictly enforced. Public displays of affection, traffic violations, or any other inappropriate behavior could result in having our soldiers dismissed from OCS.

I had not seen Jim since early June and needless to say, I was so excited. However, the public display of affection rule also applied at our visitation times. Wives were not allowed to touch their husbands AT ALL. Mother and Ruth hugged Jim and Daddy shook his hand while I just stood there smiling sweetly.

Jim:                       Chloie arrived at the 12^th week mark when we were intermediate candidates and we celebrated with a banquet and dance at a hotel in Columbus, Georgia. 

Chloie:                 The 12^th week party was a special event marking the first time the candidates had been off post and had the chance to celebrate with their wives or girlfriends. I wore a semi-formal dress that Ruth made for me.  We also had to wear gloves to go through the receiving line to meet the field grade officers and their wives. Some girls did not have gloves so we would take ours off after going through the line and send them to the back of the line for those who didn’t have any.

I just want you to know that as a girl from a small town in Texas, I knew more about good manners and hospitality than most of the wives from large cities. I have Mother, Bettye Green, Madeline Hegi and the School of Home Economics at Texas Tech to thank for that, as well as all the ladies of Tahoka who set such a good example for me. As military wives, we were involved in all kinds of teas and balls and I never felt inadequate to handle a social situation.

Jim still had to live in the barracks at that time. My apartment wasn’t ready for about 10 days so I lived with Monty McGinty and her son during that time. Her husband was in the class ahead of Jim so it was good to have a face from home so nearby. Fred and Mable, Monty's parents, came for a visit, bringing me gifts from home and taking me sightseeing with them.

After the 12^th week party, the candidates were able to come home on most weekends unless someone messed up, but the wives would not know that until we went to pick up our husbands at noon on Saturday.  On several occasions, the XO would come out and say, “Go on home ladies. Your men won’t be coming home today.” We would sadly drive back to town and have a slumber party.

On the weekends when Jim was at home, I would cook a big breakfast on Monday morning and have him back on post by 5:30 a.m. The first time I dropped him off, there was a sign that said “No left turn between the hours of 0600 and 1800”. I had no idea what that meant so I would not turn left for fear I would get a traffic ticket. I made many right turns before I was able to find my way off post. I was terrified of breaking one of those rules.

Jim:                       At the 18^th week mark, we became senior candidates which signified that the hardest part of our training was over. At that point we were choosing which branch of the army we wanted to be in. The top six candidates got to choose infantry if they wanted it. I chose the oxymoron unit—army intelligence-- and received orders for Ft. Holabird, Maryland.

The 18^th week party was a huge formal event and a real celebration. From that point until graduation, the candidates were able to leave post in the afternoon and spend the night at home.

Chloie:                 About the 20^th week, Jim had to go on bivouac for a week. We decided that I should go see Jim and Andra Solomon in Columbus, Mississippi where they were stationed. I went to the bank on post to get some cash to buy my bus ticket and headed into Columbus. In my excitement, I failed to notice a school zone and was pulled over for speeding. We had a Ft Benning sticker on our car so I knew the policeman would know we were military. I was absolutely sick. I went straight to city hall to pay cash for my ticket. I did not want to write a check and leave any kind of paper trail that could trace me back to Jim.  I then had to drive back to post to get more cash for my bus ticket.

When I told my girlfriends what had happened they were equally horrified for me so I was sure Jim was going to get kicked out of OCS. All I could think of was how disappointed George Claud (Jim’s dad) was going to be if Jim was dismissed. And the fact that I couldn’t tell Jim right away what I had done made it even worse.

The next day I left on the bus for Mississippi. I sat right behind the driver the whole way with my nose buried in my book. We had a long layover in the downtown Birmingham bus station which in 1970 was quite an experience for a young Texas girl.

When I told Jim Solomon what I had done, he died laughing and assured me Jim would not get kicked out of OCS. I couldn't relax until my Jim got back and I could tell him what I had done.  We wives took those rules very seriously.

Jim:                       The last week of my training I was privileged to raise and lower the post flag every day. That was a great honor for me. Traffic stops on military posts and soldiers stand at attention at these two times every day.

You may not know that at movie theaters on post before the feature begins, the Star Spangled Banner is played and the audience stands in salute to the flag.

Another great honor for me while in OCS was leading my platoon as we passed in review for graduation before the base commander.

Patriotism is alive and well on our military bases throughout the world. Soldiers respect the service of veterans that served before them and want to continue the honorable standards they lived by.

We formed many friendships at OCS and still hear from one good friend every year on November 19, our graduation day. Some of the guys in my company went on to lose their lives in Viet Nam and others still suffer from wounds, malaria and the effects of Agent Orange.

As a 2^nd Lt., we left Columbus, Georgia the next day with everything we owned in our car or on top of it! What an adventure to tell our parents and friends goodbye and drive up the east coast to Maryland.

Chloie:                 For the first time since May 27, we lived together every day. Being assigned to Ft Holabird in Baltimore, Maryland afforded us the wonderful opportunity to live just 20 miles from Washington, DC, as well as in the heart of so much early history of our country. We visited the Capitol several times, toured Williamsburg, Gettysburg, Ft McHenry, and even spent a weekend in New York City.

Jim:                       Ft Holabird was a small post, with a chain length fence around it. It was in the heart of the industrial district of Baltimore. I was adjutant to the deputy commander of the intelligence agency. 

In February 1971, we learned that Ft Holabird would be closed and the intelligence unit would be relocated in Ft Huachuca, Arizona. Of interest is that Watergate prisoners were sent to Ft Holabird to serve their sentences.

June 1971 found us heading west and ready for another adventure. Ft Huachuca is located south of Tucson very near the Mexican border. It is at the base of beautiful mountains and was a great assignment for us. My Aunt Barbara and Uncle Sarge lived about 50 miles from us and we visited Tombstone, Bisbee, and Nogales, Mexico. We made so many good friends there and again were able to travel and enjoy that part of the country.

I was very fortunate with the assignments I was given and being honorably discharged as a 1^st lieutenant. Chloie and I grew up being away from parents and family.

 

Col. Peterson and Chloie Jan pinning on 1st Lt Bar, November 19, 1971

Col. Peterson and Chloie Jan pinning on 1st Lt Bar, November 19, 1971

Jim and Chloie Jan at Mike and Beth Huffaker's Wedding, June 1971

 Jim and Chloie Jan at Mike and Beth Huffaker's Wedding, June 1971

 Thirty-six years later our son made the decision to enlist in the US Army after he graduated from West Texas. He said joining up was something he felt like he ought to do.

It was with pride that we took him to Amarillo to be inducted and watched him fly away to Ft Knox, Kentucky for basic training. It was a proud day for us and our daughters when we attended his graduation. He was sent to Ft Hood, Texas and six weeks later was deployed to Iraq. In three years he served two tours in Iraq and now serves in the Army Reserve.

 

Matthew's graduation from Basic Training at Fort Knox, Kentucky, February 2009

Matthew's graduation from Basic Training at Fort Knox, Kentucky, February 2009

Jim and Matthew looking at his new rifle hours before departure to Iraq

Jim and Matthew looking at his new rifle hours before departure to Iraq

Matthew leaves for his first deployment to Iraq after midnight, May 3, 2009

                        Matthew leaves for his first deployment to Iraq after midnight, May 3, 2009

 Matthew was in Iraq at the time of the Ft Hood shooting. Many of his friends had families living on post and were very worried until they found out they were safe. The soldiers were furious that their friends and loved ones were in that kind of danger on an American military post.

Times have changed from my time in the military to Matthew’s experience. We wrote letters while Matthew emailed and called us on computers. We could communicate with him on Facebook and Skype with him, allowing us to see his face.

 In my era, soldiers were not honored or respected, but thankfully that is not the case today. Viet Nam veterans were spit on when they returned home.  But Desert Storm veterans were welcomed home by ticker tape parades. Matthew has been thanked by strangers and had meals paid for by anonymous Americans.

Chloie:                 I never welcomed Jim home from war but we had that experience with Matthew twice. Both times he returned from Iraq our family was at Ft Hood to welcome him home.

Families gathered at the parade field and were able to watch the soldiers come off the plane on a large TV.  They were hard to identify because they all were wearing shades and caps. Children would crowd to the screen searching for daddy. When we heard a man say, “Look, there’s your mommy,” our hearts were in our throats.

Jim:                       The soldiers boarded a school bus and were driven to the parade field where balloons, flags, music and Welcome Home signs were waiting. The bus parked across the street from the field and the soldiers got off. Over the PA system, the announcer said, “Move that bus!”, and it drove away.  Then we saw our soldiers march in formation onto the parade field where they were commended for their service to their country.

When the soldiers were dismissed, families ran onto the field carrying signs so their soldier could find them. These were two of the most thrilling events of my life!
I love my country and am proud to have served in the military. I am so thankful that our soldiers and veterans are respected and honored today.

Matthew arrives home after his 2nd deployment, Fort Hood, Texas, November 2011

 

Matthew arrives home after his 2nd deployment, Fort Hood, Texas, November 2011

 

Chloie:                 Jim was never in harm’s way during his time of service. But he was willing to be. For that, I have the greatest pride and appreciation for him. It was an honor to be a military wife and because of that experience, I was able to wholeheartedly support Matthew’s decision to enlist.

Jim:                       You probably have stories you could tell of the veterans in your lives and I appreciate the opportunity to share my story.  God Bless our Military and God Bless America.

Jim & Chloie Jan give Veterans' Day talk at Phoebe K. Warner Club, Tahoka, Texas November 10, 2015



 

 

Storytelling: Part II, continued from yesterday

When I came clean to Erik about missing Bryce’s kindergarten graduation, I did so with a little apprehension.  He had been so insistent and felt so passionately about me being there for Bryce.  And while it had been well over a year and the kids could hardly remember anything that had happened, I still felt guilty about keeping this secret from him.  So when he began to laugh at my semi-tearful admission, I felt relieved.

After a few minutes he decided to tell me the secret he had been keeping from me for the last year.  I paused, my fork in mid-air.

Erik had his transplant surgery on July 3, 2003.  He stayed in the hospital a mere 11 days and was released to go back to my sister’s house in Frisco.  In celebration of not only a successful transplant but also getting to leave St. Paul for the first time since April, our families surprised the two of us with a night’s stay at the Double Tree Hotel in Dallas.

We lounged by the pool, ate dinner at a fancy steakhouse and enjoyed a night’s sleep without a nurse coming in every half hour.  It was delightful.  I woke up the next morning to hot coffee, a newspaper and breakfast in bed.  It was like being on my honeymoon again.

Little did I know what my husband had been up to during the wee hours of the morning.

When we had arrived at the hotel the night before, Erik realized he had forgotten his medications at my sister’s house.  Keep in mind he CANNOT and DOES NOT miss taking his medicine.  He is immuno-suppressed, so some of the medicine keeps his body from realizing the heart is not his own and rejecting it.  The other medicines he takes prevent the slightest little germ from causing full blown pneumonia or a stomach virus from hell.

Even today, 12 years later, the medicine is vital.  But 11 days post-transplant – missing a dose was no joke.

So Mr. Double-0-7 woke up at the crack of dawn and covertly left the hotel to drive to Frisco, leaving me sound asleep.  He had never driven to my sister’s before, so of course he found himself lost after driving awhile.  At 6 a.m. he finally gave in and called my brother-in-law for directions to their house.

Kelly said when Erik walked in their house he walked straight back to our bedroom, grabbed his bag of pills and went out the door saying, “Let’s not mention this to Jennie, please.”  Matt and Kelly died laughing as they gave him directions back to the Double Tree.  They also swore to keep me in the dark for as long as necessary, or forever.

Erik was back in our hotel room with his meds and coffee by the time I woke up.  And for a year I knew nothing about his little adventure at dawn. 

How sweet of Erik to not want to worry me or stress me out about the medicine.  And boy would I have freaked out.  Not to mention, he wasn’t even fully released to drive a car yet.  He still had staples in his chest for Heaven's sake! And this is what happened 2 days later.  So yea, he should NOT have been driving!

As I said yesterday, ignorance is bliss and sometimes little white lies aren’t all that bad.   

This got me thinking about Erik's medications and how over the last 12 years they have been such a huge part of our lives.  Erik takes 42 pills a day and he can swallow a handful all at once with just a quick swig of water.  It amazes me.

The pills are like our 4^th child.  We take them everywhere we go.  We spend a great deal of time refilling, picking up and paying for them.  We wonder if we will always be able to afford them, especially after Obamacare – if not, what then?  We have been so blessed these last many years regarding his meds.  It’s just a constant worry that our coverage could change or the price could go up to an unaffordable rate.  Not to mention the tribulation or a zombie apocalypse might occur and I would be forced to break in to every Walgreens in a 100 mile radius to steal pills.

Don’t think I wouldn’t.

We have so many other stories about his plethora of pills.  Like the time they mysteriously disappeared Thanksgiving day at his mother’s.  Our family of 20 searched for 3 hours all over the house and grounds finally determining that the pills must have accidentally been thrown in the kitchen trash and thus wound up in Gramp’s garbage fire out back….we farm folks burn our trash.  Erik, the kids and I finally left to drive the six hours to Tahoka, but two hours into our drive we got a call that the pills had been located.  Behind the television in the kitchen, because of course that’s where he would put them.  We turned around, went back to Hearne and decided to forego the long trip to Tahoka for Thanksgiving on Friday.

Another time was after my Grandmother Grace died.  We drove to Tahoka and I unpacked our bags and toiletries.  Because we had a house full of curious little kiddos, I put the bag of pills up in the medicine cabinet in the girls’ bathroom.  We stayed at my parents’ for a week through all the funeral and family gatherings.  The moment we walked back into our house in New Braunfels, Erik made a fast bee-line to the bathroom and then almost fainted when his pills were not on the bathroom counter.  He had decided in Tahoka that he must have forgotten to pack them.  And I had assumed he knew where I put them.  So he had been a week without his meds and hadn’t wanted to alarm anyone because of the circumstances.  My parents FedExed the pills to us the next day.  Thanks again, Mom and Dad.

What else – oh YES, there was the time that his bag of pills got stolen out of his suitcase when he flew to Chicago.  When he got home he was able to get all the prescriptions refilled except the CellCept which is the immuno-suppressant pill….kind of important.  Because it wasn’t “time” for the insurance to refill, Walgreens told us we had to pay $1200 for the new bottle.  After some tears (me) and lots of prayers (Erik and my Mom), the transplant office in Dallas came through with some samples.  Again, thank you Jesus for your mercy!

The main reason I’m disclosing so much information about Erik’s medications is because I would like to share with you what I pray for daily. 

We know Erik got an almost perfect heart – size, blood type, young, healthy.  He no longer has heart disease.  He no longer has any heart complications.  He gets his heart biopsied every 5 years now, but that’s another story for another day.

What the devil would love for us to worry about is Erik’s kidney and liver functions after so many years of so many pills.  His body has to do a lot of work to put the medication to good use and then flush them out of his system.  The doctors watch his creatinine levels as much or more than anything else.

Many years ago I started praying a specific phrase for Erik and those pills: 

“Lord, let the medicine flow through his body like living water.”  So far, the Holy Spirit hasn’t told me to tweak that prayer at all.  And God is listening.

Will you also pray for that for Erik?  God hears our prayers and no one more than Erik Hughes could attest to that.

 

 

 

 

Storytelling: Part I

I come from a family of storytellers.  Admittedly, we tell the same stories over and over.  But we laugh just as much after the 20th time as we did the first time.  And if someone is around who has never heard our stories, it's like Christmas morning for us.  Settle in for some entertainment, my friend!  We will have your ear for awhile.

Who doesn't like to hear a person's story – either funny or scary or interesting?  It’s so easy to forget our stories as life swirls in and out of control and we fight to keep our head above water.  But what are we without our stories?

And since I love hearing people’s stories, I am all the more willing to share my own.

It was May 2003 and Erik had been in the hospital for a month and a half.  He had been on the transplant list for almost 30 days at Status 1-A which meant the doctors had given him less than 20 days to live without a transplant.  He was receiving two IV drugs around the clock and had been in and out of ICU depending on how stable he was.  It had been a very long spring.

Erik hadn’t stepped foot outside St. Paul since April 16 and I only left the hospital to check the mail at our Dallas post office box or when my sister would kidnap me for a dinner out.  I was sleeping either in Erik’s room on the cardiac floor, or in the cottage attached to the hospital when he was moved to ICU.

Bryce and Lexi were living in Tahoka with my parents and would visit almost every weekend.  Erik and I constantly worried about how the separation would affect them and all I could say was, “God's grace is sufficient…”  We really didn’t have any choice but to trust the Lord to shield our kids as much as possible from the anxiety and fear we were living with.  And thankfully my parents provided that umbrella of protection that Erik and I just couldn’t.

Word arrived one day that Bryce’s kindergarten graduation was coming up and that all parents and grandparents were invited to attend.  Erik felt very strongly that I should go home for a couple of days and go to the ceremony.  Bryce had been through a lot, so Erik thought it was imperative that I go to graduation.

I whole-heartedly disagreed!  At any moment we could get the call that a heart was available and that Erik would be going into open heart surgery.  He was also in and out of ICU due to the significant heart failure as his condition worsened.  I had been by his side since everything started going downhill in January – why NOW would I leave him to go six hours away?  I just couldn’t accept that.

However, Erik was adamant and begged me to go.  He said it would make him feel so much better to know that I was there for Bryce at his 45 minute kindergarten graduation ceremony.  Of course the separation from the kids was as hard on Erik as it was on the rest of us, so I finally agreed just to put him at ease and maybe give him one less thing to worry about.

My sister and brother-in-law had brought the kids to see us that weekend, so upon Erik’s urging I reluctantly got in the car and drove away that Sunday morning with Abby, Chris and the kids – leaving Erik and his mother in his hospital room waiting on a heart.

During that long drive to Tahoka, I sat in the backseat with Bryce and Lexi.  We cuddled and read books and visited.  I held them while they slept and it felt so good to be right in the middle of them for that long road trip.  But inside I was a nervous wreck.  Every mile we drove was a minute further away from Erik. 

What if he gets a heart and goes into surgery before I can get back?  What if he goes back into ICU and they can’t get him stabilized before I get back?  My mind was reeling.

We finally arrived in Tahoka and started to unload the car.  I walked into my parents’ house, looked at my mother in a panic and said, “I cannot do this!” 

And without hesitation my mom said, “Call Southwest!” 

So before I had even walked all the way into the living room, I picked up the phone and called Southwest Airlines.  Then I hugged the kids goodbye, walked right back outside, got in the car and drove to the airport.  I was in the air less than 2 hours after arriving home.

My sister Kelly picked me up at Dallas Love and drove me back to the hospital.  We sat in the lobby for several hours recounting the turn of events that brought me full circle back to St. Paul.  While it was a huge relief to be back in the metroplex, there was no way I could tell Erik that I had come all the way back and would indeed be missing graduation.  He was content thinking I was in Tahoka with the kids, so I decided to just go with that little white lie. 

What fun it was to call my mother-in-law and ask her to stealthily make her way down to the lobby.  And oh how we laughed as I explained my journey to Tahoka and back that afternoon.  She gladly agreed not to tell Erik and to stay with him until I came back the next day.  I had great peace knowing I could get back to the hospital in minutes if I needed to, AND that Phyllis was there with Erik.

I spent that night at Matt and Kelly’s house and got back to the hospital the next afternoon.  Erik questioned how I was back so early, but I just told him I had caught an earlier flight (which was technically true).  I had never felt better as I settled back onto my leather couch in Room 603. 

{sigh of relief}

The entire family kept my secret change of plans from Erik for a long, long time.  In fact, it was more than a year later over a steak dinner and some Merlot that I finally confessed to Erik that I had not gone to Bryce’s graduation.  It took him a second to even remember the circumstances, but once he did he could only shake his head and laugh.  Truthfully, sometimes ignorance is bliss.

Then Erik proceeded to tell me a story that almost put me under the table.  The entire family had also been keeping a secret from me for over a year.  And now it was Erik’s turn to confess….

To be continued.

(Here is a picture of Bryce & Lexi during this time.  I love it because they are clearly posing for the picture, but then a cat darted out.  So Bryce took on his ninja stance and Lexi's eyes got so big!)