Lessons from Cleveland Street

While on my "leave" from the hustle and bustle of the Boro, I have had the privledge to work and serve at the same time. Since I came back I've been watching this older lady, the mother of someone in my home church congregation. It's been my "mini" job that was designed to give me some funds for the summer adventure but also help out the family.

Once you live through the experience of housing an elderly person in your home, you look at the matter quite differently. Sure, they may have raised you, it's just your parents living with you when they don't know what time it is and when to take their pill, right? It's a common misconception, and it's something that you don't find printed in the newspapers or featured on Dateline. It's the daily, minute by minute sacrifice of children who become dominant care givers to their parents.

After living with my grandfather for three years, and seeing what a really big handful aging parents can be at times, I gladly accepted the offer to help out the family. My duties weren't extensive at all. I helped with the basic needs like assisting with meals, fetching ice cold water, proping up feet, helping move her from side to side. Nothing extraordinary by my means. This lovely lady looked milder than mild compared to my grandfather, who'd we find doing all sorts of random, dangerous, and nutty things in the house.

I said my goodbyes tonight to the family since it was my last night of staying with them for a few hours while they could go here and there to relax. It was a great honor to be a part of their family for the two weeks I was home. But I didn't realize how hard it would be to say goodbye to Doris, my 80+ pal for hours of television, potty sessions, and cookie fetching. I hugged everyone and left Doris for last, giving her a kiss and a hug, knowing that full well it might be the last time I see her. Sure, anyone could pass away at anytime, not my doings, but when it's more prevelent with an aging person, you begin to think harder.

I didn't expect to become attached by any means, but I did. And I left the house and drove away, with not a single ounce in me wanting to blast music from my iPod or sing a jazzy song. All I did was mediate the emotions that were running through my heart.

It's funny. Sometimes I hate my hometown and sometimes I soak it in, savoring every blink of the eye. Stepping into Wal-Mart results in seeing 4 people you know, some of which you would rather go without seeing. Other times I gaze off into the hills and landscapes that are serenaded by crickets and birds.

Someday I would enjoy having a home that doesn't change so much. I often feel like my heart is torn from all different things, and it becomes exhausting. Usually I am pulled from those landscapes back to a small town from northern PA. Home, school, home school. For goodness sakes, I'm going to California. Sometimes I wonder where this path is going, but that's all I can do - is wonder. Figuring out where every move is ahead of time is burning that time.

It's been encouraging to hear the excitement from people about my new endevor to Pasadena. The family I stayed with reminded me of it. It's what community is for - to remind each other of things we sometimes forget without knowing it. When they read my letter, they expressed how they could feel the excitement and passion.

It's there, it just gets buried with junk, and sometimes people have to come in your life and sweep it away. Brush it off. And tell you that what your doing is wonderful, a great oppritunity. Sometimes it's great to hear it because sometimes you don't hear it from the people that matter a lot to you. And then more junk develops.

I'm not positive why God opened the doors to me this summer. My fianances aren't great. The idea is nuts. But man, did he ever talk to me and put me in this place. And all I can do is say "Yes" because I yearn to be madly in love a little more each day. And what a lover he is.