A Time to Mourn...

Sometimes life hurts so badly, that when I look back at my time on this earth, all I can feel is pain. (Yes, I'm still battling depression.) So many people are hurting right now and I'm helpless to change the situation. I'm such a sentimental fool! The work atmosphere was terrible the past 2 yrs, still we invested 12 yrs of our lives into it. We believed in the mission of the radio network. The whole staff sacrificed a lot to be a part of it- yet we felt that somehow it would all be worth it. Now, I'm just not sure. Honestly, I think my man and I just need time away from denominational work. Need to clear our heads and refocus- we are both drained. One moment, I'm relieved that we can move on to something else- hopefully a more family-friendly career. The next minute I'm feeling angry and tearful at the treatment we've received. I hate feeling like I have nothing to offer but tears...
I want to be content, I want to count my blessings, yet I'm so weary I just don't feel like I have the will to do so anymore. Sleep does not come easily. God help me be strong.
Limbo is a hard place to be. At this point, we have NO idea what the future holds for us. We are ruined financially. It will take years to recover from this ordeal emotionally and otherwise. 6 families are suffering while a dysfunctional leader keeps his cushy job. Very disillusioning when this happens.

I am preparing myself for the phone call I know is coming... Poor Grandpa, what a life he's led. He was born to a father with a fierce Scotch-Irish temper. Because of the Depression, he only received a 3rd grade education before quitting school to help earn money for the family. He fought in WWII. While working high up on a telephone pole, the Germans shot the pole out from under him and he fell backward to the ground straddling the pole. His pelvis was crushed, ribs were damaged and he was rendered unconscious. When he awoke, he was laying in the morgue surrounded by bloody corpses- this traumatized him greatly. Between the atrocities he witnessed during the war and the injuries he suffered, he decided there was no God and if there was, he wanted nothing to do with Him. He came back from the war and married a beautiful young war widow with 4 children. Her name was Verlene. She had beautiful blue eyes and Auburn hair. I have a picture of her in my room. I very closely resemble her- it's downright scary!!
Anyway, they were somewhat happy for a few years. They had my mother, then a set of twin girls. That was it. The pressures of raising 7 children proved to be too much and their quality of life went downhill fast. Grandpa worked all sorts of jobs, from a schoolbus driver to a highschool janitor- all the while managing a farm. They had no indoor plumbing or running water- in fact, Grandpa didn't get those luxuries until the mid 1990's. Grandma became so sad and tired that she prayed the Lord to let her die. One day while working in the fields in the hot August sun, she got overheated and headed toward the house. When she got inside, she drank a cup of really cold water. Her last words were, "Girls, I feel kinda faint". She died of massive heat stroke in the arms of her daughter. Grandpa felt guilty for the rest of his life for some of the mean things he said & did to Grandma, but life has no rewind button. Eventually, he remarried a woman named Gertrude, but she was sleeping with her own son and understandably, they ended up divorced. After that, Grandpa lived out the rest of his days alone in the little farmhouse in the middle of massive acreage. We moved to Missouri when I was 8 years old. My Mom left my Dad and took us west to join her family there. Grandpa Campbell could be the funniest man you would ever want to meet- literally told stories so funny that I wet my pants from laughing so hard! But he could turn in a minute and pitch a fit. Due to his quick temper, he trusted few people and even disowned each of his own kids several times over the years. He had some really strange ideas, but I loved him dearly. He enjoyed laughter & loved to play pranks- I think I got my goofy side from him!
My best memories of him were sitting with him in the rocking chair while he told stories. Also, lounging on the riverbank fishing. We built a fire, wrapped the fish we caught in tinfoil with a pat of butter and a slice of lemon, then let them cook. When you unwrapped that steaming fish and put a little salt on it, it was great eating. Grandpa was a WONDERFUL cook. He made the tenderest deer steaks and rabbit stew! He lived off the land growing his own corn, vegetables, berries. We went mushroom hunting together. I was his only blood granddaughter- he said I reminded him of Grandma. He never actually said it, but I thought he was proud of me- just because of how he would look at me sometimes with that far-away smile. However, when my parents decided to make ammends, we left MO- that was the end of my relationship with Grandpa. He didn't respond to any of the cards or letters I sent after that, or even acknowledge my graduation, wedding or the births of any of our children. I went out to visit him a few times during the summer when I was a teen, but things were never the same. He gave me a beautiful butterfly necklace for my 10th birthday. That was the only gift he ever gave me and sadly, I lost it in one of our moves. Sure wish I had it now... I took my children out to meet him 2 years ago. He was kind, but distant.
Grandpa George had struggles with Kidney stones and many other ordeals, including Prostate Cancer. He was near death many times but that stubborn Scottsman pulled through repeatedly against all odds. Now it appears his journey is nearly ended. I guess part of my interest in Herman up the hill is because he's the same age as my Grandpa and my care for him is how I wish I could care for my Grandpa.

Grandpa George, I wish I had the chance to get to know you better. I wish you had wanted to know me. I hope you took time to read the last letter I sent you and know how grateful I am that you were a part of my life for 3 years. Rest in peace.