Counting My Blessings

As I drove the Escape back from Wooster yesterday, I listened to both Sirius XM (60s and 70s music) and the two new CDs I bought a couple of weeks ago at The Ball Brothers concert in Kentland.  One of the songs from one CD is called 'Count Your Blessings' and it isn't a version with which I was familiar.  I have listened to Chad sing this song several times, and yesterday I really listened to the words.

This past week Gary, Megan and Matt, Hilary and Blaine, and the four kids spent the week in Wooster, cleaning out the house---again.  Actually this was the fourth time for Gary, Cooper, and me, the third for Megan and Matt, and the second for Hilary's family.  Greta was there for most of the week also.  While we made significant progress since we had the dumpster and a U-Haul, plus the additional manpower to clean out the attic and do some of the heavier lifting, there were moments when the emotions ran wild and either Greta or I or both of us just burst into tears.

Why?  Frustration. Being overwhelmed.  Sometimes, for me anyway, anger.  Anger at Mom.  Keeping insurance policies that my grandparents had on the farm in Westville from the 1940s?  All of the stacks of clippings of recipes and recipes and more recipes?  Frozen items marked from 1978?  Yet she claimed that she used everything that was in the house and nothing could be gotten rid of because it was all important and she needed it.  She used it. All of it.  We found the beautiful cedar chest on legs that NO ONE knew she had, yet she would claim, if she were here, that she used it all the time.  It was buried under bags of used pantyhose and more bags of candle rings for every season and in every color and magazines from the 60s and couldn't have even seen the light of day for many years, let alone have been used for anything except storage of old clothes that mean absolutely nothing to anyone.  I stood in the middle bedroom and before I knew what was happening, tears were streaming down my face and I was sobbing, so mad at her.  Here we were, all at the house, all of us (except the kids) going through piles and piles and stacks and stacks of worthless junk to pitch in the dumpster.  Spending all of that time and energy pitching things that should never have been saved in the first place.  So I was angry at her.  And I am still angry at her.

But on the drive back yesterday as I was listening to Chad sing "Count Your Blessings," I had to shift my way of thinking.  Going back to the OBS I need to complete this week, how I react to things and store things in my Thought Closet is my choice.  And I need to focus more on my blessings than my anger at Mom.

As Greta and I have gone through drawers and cabinets and closets, bit by bit, we have found treasures that we didn't realize we had.  We were sent down many Memory Lanes, recalling Rose making dresses for us, modeling in a fashion show with her, and seeing our picture in the Sunday edition of the Youngstown Vindicator.  The Damascus Bi-Centennial.  The player piano in the basement.  The little white rocking chair from The Little Brown House.  Many happy memories of our childhood that only Greta and I can share---memories before we were uprooted and moved to Indiana.  Memories from when Mom still loved us and before the verbal and physical abuse started.

My husband.  Through the last few months he has been supportive.  He has worked hard to clean out areas of the basement.  He has sifted through tools and equipment in the little barn and in the garage.  He has called Waste Management, Culligan, the lawn guy, U-Haul---anything we need he will do.  He has never once complained about yet another trip to Wooster or how long we stay.  He tries his best to hold me close and help me rest at night, gives me hugs when I need them, and dries my tears when I am sobbing. He drove the U-Haul back yesterday even though he really didn't want to do that. Actually he had no choice, but I know he didn't want to. 

Our daughters.  They have uprooted their families and spent days in close quarters with everyone else, making do with the accommodations and fixing meals, to help us with the clean out process.  They have also found treasures, reminders, memories along the way.  I also hope they have learned a little more about their heritage from my side of the family in the process.

Our sons-in-law.  Not sure what Gary would have done without Blaine and Matt (and Landon). Pulling things out of the attic. Emptying the freezers.  Going through the little barn and the workbench.  Helping with anything and everything that we needed.  I am so glad that Dad met both of them and approved of their addition to our family. I love them both more than they know.

My parents.  Yes.  My parents.  I have to try  to focus on the good rather than the last few years of bad memories.  We always had a nice house.  We never went without anything.  We had food on the table.  Our clothes were clean. We had opportunities for extra curricular activities in high school and were never told that we couldn't participate in something (except for me---I was told no to wanting to play in the band). Greta and I both had post-high school educational opportunities. We attended church, often on our own, but we did attend church services and were active in the youth group when we were in school. Somehow in there we have good family values even though Mom was not the best mother. 

As much as I have been crying and mad and frustrated, I really do need to remember my blessings.  Along with being thankful for my family and their support, I am also blessed that I was able to retire when I did so that I have the time to spend in Wooster now.  I couldn't do much before, but I can take care of the house now.  I don't have to return to classes in the fall, so my calendar is somewhat clear as far as week-long trips to Wooster.  We also have the means financially to be able to rent a U-Haul and buy the gas for the trips and all of the meals we have eaten in restaurants lately.    Yes, I am blessed.  Yes, I need to remember to count my blessings. 

Thanks for the song, Chad and The Ball Brothers.  Sometimes I just need that reminder.