Nowhere Else to Be

My grandmother is dying. Normally, something so personal to my family would not come up in my public writing but I feel the need to write about it today. This afternoon, I sat by my grandmother's chair holding her hand. I didn't understand a word she said midst her groans and I don't even know if she knew who I was but she gripped my hand like a vice. She looked at me through half closed eyes and I told her she looked good in yellow. Did she know I was the same person as the baby pictured above her bed? To me, it didn't matter but it did matter to me and perhaps to her that someone, whoever she thought they were, cared enough to sit beside her and give her affectionate touch. And though she couldn't ask for it, I thought it would be alright to send her soul the feeling of peace and of being loved. It is all I can really give to her - my presence and a sense of peace as she lives how many ever days she has left on earth.

I got "the call," you know the kind, about seven months ago last spring when my mom told me my grandmother had suffered a stroke. I visited her at the hospital and then a nursing center. She tried being at home with care but that didn't work out, so my mom and older sister found a great assisted living home for her close to my mom. Since she started there, we have had to keep moving her to higher and higher levels of care to where she is now in the memory unit. Over the summer, we went through her whole house and sold what we could via garage sales and advertisements. The rest is spread out between my mom, older sister, and I.

Eight months ago my grandmother was living independently in her own home and still driving. Now she is in a memory unit unable to really speak or do anything for herself. It still blows me away. Two visits ago, I showed her the video of me on the flying trapeze in Seattle. She could still carry on a bit of a conversation at that point and she asked  me, "What was it like?" I'd never heard my grandmother ask that question before and for a moment, we got to connect on a genuine level, a level we hadn't connected on since I was a little girl, if ever. It felt like a break in the clouds of blue sky on an extraordinarily rainy day. Such a little thing, a short conversation, but to me, it's a memory of gold I will always treasure.

I know that next call, the final one, can come any day now. We suspect her fast decline is due to a series of small strokes and you just never know with those. This might sound unfeeling, but I'm thankful her decline has been fast. I used to work in nursing homes and saw first-hand how lingering in this state for a long period of time can truly be worse than death. It is not the kind of death I would wish for myself and I do not wish it for her. Death can be a release. Still, I cry to think of it.

Up to the age of thirty-two, there hadn't been a lot of death in my immediate family. I remember my mom and grandparents going through my great-grandfather's house when I was a child though I don't remember him and I have a scrap of memory of my great-grandmother for whom I'm named, but as a child, the only other close death was my great-uncle, my grandmother's brother. He died when I was a teenager. At nineteen, I lost my most beloved cat, Emily. She came into our backyard when I was four and I was instantly in love. We were connected in a deep way from that point on and I still believe she was an "angel" sent by God to be with me. It wasn't until I was twenty-four I lost a grandparent. My grandpa, the one I was closest to, the one I look so much like, died at the Veteran's home. Going through all the things at his and my grandmother's house this last summer brought much of that grief back to the surface for me. Then, just over a year and a half ago when I was thirty-two, my step-grandfather died. Nine months later, my paternal grandfather died. Five months after that, my great-great-aunt died (I'm friends with her son, my cousin). Aunt Grace's funeral was the last time I saw my grandmother outside of a hospital or nursing home. Weeks after that, she had her stroke. Two months after that, my step-mother's mom died. During this time, I've also experienced loss in other ways: loss of relationships, loss of trust, loss of old beliefs and ways of thinking. In short, it's been a lot of loss in a short amount of time.

I have a question I answer every month: "What image, piece of music, word or two, or color, describes what life has been like lately?" This month, I think my answer is going to be sitting in front of a gravestone. I've been digging a lot of graves lately and burying a lot of what was once precious to me. It's the season of loss. I'm letting go, pulling roots out of the ground, standing beside a funeral pyre watching the flames rise to the stars, knowing that the empty feeling inside is exactly what it's supposed to be. In a strange way, those strands of loss around my soul are even comforting. Like a good cry, such loss empties you out and you are left by the riverbank with the rain falling on your face and nowhere else to be.

Post Script: My Grandma died this morning, September 24, 2013, two and a half days after this post was originally published. 

Too Good of a Story

This is just too good of a story not to tell. It's a story about how God answers the unasked prayers we never think to pray in shocking ways. I'm still grinning.

The story starts a week ago on my birthday. I was meeting up with my mom to celebrate when she told me about a phone call several weeks prior with her own mother who told her about a second or third cousin who was having a book signing at the local Borders Bookstore. Neither of them attended the signing but my mom did look his book up online though she couldn't remember his name when she related this all to me. She did tell me it was a Christian book about addiction and depression. I thought about calling Borders to find out who this cousin was; I loved the idea of having another Christian author in the family. However, as it turned out, I didn't have to make that call.

When my Grandmother called later in the evening to wish me a happy birthday, she also told me about the book signing and she had a name: Doug Bolton. When I heard it, I thought to myself, "I know that name from somewhere. How do I know that name?" First chance I had, I looked him up on my computer starting with my e-mail first and sure enough, there he was.

Years ago I contacted a man to ask to be taken off a mailing list of an Oregon State University alumni newsletter. He noticed the reference to my books in the signature of my e-mail and as he was also a writer, we started corresponding once in a while over the years about our books but never met in person, though we live in the same town.

After learning of our connection, I e-mailed him immediately asking if we could meet for coffee and checked with my grandmother to make sure I knew just how we were related. He is my grandfather's cousin which makes us third cousins.

So today, I found a picture of my grandpa and brought it with me to show him. I hadn't said anything yet as I wanted to tell him we were family, not just friends, in person. We started talking about our books and found we have a lot in common already; he was brought up in a Quaker family, in a meeting that used to be in the neighborhood where I now live, where my great-grandparents lived, but a meeting that no longer exists. You can imagine my surprise right there but when I showed him his cousin's picture and told Doug I was Gib's granddaughter, he was stunned. I am sure he will be absorbing that news for days to come. It took me a while to get over the shock myself that I was related to one of my friends.

One of the most incredible things for me about this whole story is I know so little about my grandpa's family though I have been told by many I look just like the Woods. My grandpa, mom, aunt, and I share an uncanny resemblance and when my great-great uncles saw me at my great-aunt's funeral several years back, they took one look at me and said, "You look like our mother." So our "family look" runs very strong from one generation to the next and I got it. When Doug found out we were related, he said I looked a lot like his mom, who as it turns out, is still living in an assisted living home in South Salem. You know I will be visiting.

I feel so grateful God let us know of our connection, that we're family. As I said before in my post about our Hoggatt family reunion this summer, I didn't have a lot of contact with blood family beyond my grandparents growing up and was told little so knowing my more distant cousins and great-aunts and uncles means so much to me. I love knowing where I've come from and I love now having the opportunity to know much more about my grandpa's life and his family whom I so closely resemble. It's the prayer I never thought to pray.  I am so grateful God gives us what we need even when we don't realize we need it. He is so good to us.

Since I usually have a point to what I write on here, more than, "Isn't this an awesome story?", the moral of this tale is, "Be kind to everyone you meet. You never to whom you are related. (In our souls, we are all related, sometimes the relationship is just more obvious.)"

As an epilogue, Doug and I will now be working on doing events and signings together, probably in the spring. Meanwhile, on December 10th, I am going to support him at his next signing at Eola Hills Winery which, with all the additional music and artists, should be quite an event. The invitation is below. You are all invited to come.

YOU’RE INVITED

Join us for entertainment and a book signing

EOLA HILLS WINERY

501 S Pacific Hwy 99W

Rickerall, OR 

Doug Bolton will be there to sign copies of his new book, Signs of Hope: Ways to Survive in an Unfriendly World.

Performing for the evening will be the barbershop quartet group, Dave Chilcote and The Investors, plus recording artists Mindy Taylor Hersey and Julie Hoy. Both will be signing copies of their new CD’s.

And finally, guest speaker Laura Morett, star of the TV series “Survivor” will be doing autographs and showing clips of the series.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 10

6-9 P.M.

Admission is free

There will be complimentary hors d’oeuvres and a “no host” bar

Please R.S.V.P. to rich-washburn@eolahillswinery.com

This is his website: http://dougbolton.com/

"Truth Gives Wings to Strength"

I made my family cry. I didn't mean to. But I seem to have a funny talent for making people cry with what I write. It never even occurred to me that they would find my blog before I had even had the chance to meet them and that it would turn their eyes into small versions of the Deshutes River. But find it they did, read it they most certainly did, and thus the first thing I heard from some of them when we met was how much they had cried on the way there.

As was shared with me, my Great-Aunt Helen's son found my blog and after wiping his tears, called my Aunt and told her she ought to read it. Someone in their carload pulled it up and they cried too. At the reunion, it didn't take long for word to spread about the blog post and soon I was printing up copies for people to read. Luckily, they didn't cry or at least I didn't catch them at it. Do you remember that peanut butter pie? Yeah. That was gone. So many people had heard about it that it took them minutes to eat it. Next time I'll make two.

My favorite part of the whole reunion was talking with and getting to know family I had not met or hadn't since I was a little girl and hearing about my great-grandparents from my great aunts and uncles. They filled out for me a much fuller picture of who they were. Great-Grandpa Hoggatt, as it turns out, was the assistant pastor in West Hollywood, probably in the 1930s, and he served, get this, under a woman. After that church he pastored in Selma where my great-grandmother played the organ and had a mirror strategically placed so she could give the children "the look" when they misbehaved. The kids would often sing in church. I would have loved to hear them, I hear they were quite good.

It was indescribably delightful to watch my grandpa with his siblings, watching them interact together and wondering what all those brothers were like when, as their sisters shared with me, they were all combing their hair back while getting ready for dates. It's fun to have the sisters around to tell on their brothers... It was funny to see the same looks on the brothers faces and to find common loves with other family members. I learned some things too. For example, as it turns out, my Great-Grandma Emma is the insane creator of a hand-sewn quilt in my possession. My grandma remembers sending her some of the fabric and another family member has a quilt of Grandma Emma's that includes some of the fabric in my own.

It's funny getting to know your roots when for two generations, my family hasn't lived close by extended family. But I feel like I've been given a precious gift of time with these folks who share my heritage and I have great joy in knowing I will continue my relationship with many of those I met.

Knowing your family doesn't dictate who you are but it helps to know where you've been. It helps give a foundation, or an up-current in the wind. Curious to know how my cousin found my blog, I googled "Hoggatt" and discovered my blog is the first website to come up. Just a little further down was a link to our family crest with the motto, "Truth gives wings to strength". For me, the truth was knowing those I belong with, those who have been teased in the exact same way about our last name, who understand the heritage we treasure. That truth does give wings, knowing God has been faithful before to someone in my family, knowing God will be faithful to me as I follow in my great-grandpa's footsteps, forging a path of ministry all my own, the truth giving wings to a new strength.

Four generations of aunts and nieces in relation to Madison: Great-Great-Aunt Marion, Great-Great-Aunt Helen, Great-Aunt Sharri, Aunt Sarah, and Madison.

Hoggatt Family Reunion Video

I'll write about how the reunion is going later on when the kitchen isn't resembling Grand Central Station, but for now, here is a video of pictures we took yesterday.

Create your own video slideshow at animoto.com.

"The Hoggatt Family Reunion 2010" written by the Kitchen Minion

The fog is beginning to lift to where I can just make out the other shore and a bird taking an early morning cruise over the sound searching, I am sure, for a delicious fish breakfast. In the room next to me, I can hear my aunt and uncle waking up and getting ready for the day. And what a big day it will be! My Aunt Sharri, I am sure, is thinking I'm doing her some big favor by being here to help as her kitchen minion but the truth is, I am looking forward to a day spent in the kitchen together cooking up a storm. It sounds like a slice of heaven to me. one of those moments that seem so mundane but are really precious and holy. We spent over two hours in Costco yesterday with her pushing a cart and me, cruising around with a flatbed, which, I eventually got the hang of.

My Aunt is one of the bravest people I know for not only did she trust me with that flatbed at Costco, but tomorrow this house will be turned from a quiet island home overlooking the Puget Sound into a raucous, noisy, full to the rafters house with seventy of our family members, most of whom I have never met, and many she hasn't either. We've talked over this idea for years and this year, she put it together, a family reunion with all her dad's (my grandpa's) siblings. And since there were twelve children, there are a lot of descendants.

Can I just tell you how excited I am to meet them all? When I was growing up, most of the local extended family around me was step-family and while I appreciated the gatherings, the fact is, we were always treated differently. I don't blame them for that and I'm not mad about it, it is just the way it was and I understand how that happens. But I've wanted to have family I truly belong to. So it has been one of my deepest joys to be an adult with the freedom to travel to see my dad's family in Washington on a pretty regular basis. I have loved spending time with my cousins, talking with my grandparents, and hanging out with my aunts and uncle. I really belong, I'm one of the gang. I eat my pancakes with peanut butter and get poison oak at the drop of a hat. I'm family.

It still feels weird when I think of meeting all these people and knowing I'm related to them all. My great-grandparents, from whom we are all descended, were in the ministry. "Brother Hoggatt" was an evangelistic preacher and I've read when you drove with Brother Hoggatt, you prayed. Haha. Being in the ministry myself through writing and speaking, I like to think I get a bit of that from him. Whether or not that's true, I hope he would be proud to know this about his great-granddaughter. My aunt, who did know him, thinks he is.

The one picture I've seen of this family, is when the youngest is still a little girl. (She'll be here tomorrow.) I'm hoping for stories. I'm hoping for fun. I'm hoping for time to sit down and get to know each other a little, to have them as more than just faces I barely recognize. I'm hoping to land a piece of that peanut butter pie I'll be making this afternoon and another of the Boston Creme Pie my Uncle is picking up tomorrow. I'm hoping to hear God moving, bringing people together, giving my Grandpa and his siblings a gift of being together again.

Thank you Jesus for my family. (And for peanut butter pie! I'll save you a slice.)

Thanksgiving 2009

I left for Africa the Saturday after Thanksgiving so these never got posted. My niece, Madison took the last two photographs. We've been working on taking pictures since she was about one. Even at three and a half, my family is still surprised I let her handle my camera. But she is getting better and I'm a proud aunt. The following three are for you Megan, keeping the tradition alive! (Her other proud aunt.)

Christmas 2009

I'm finally getting a bunch of these pictures I've been meaning to post up here on the blog. These are from Christmas (obviously). The two little girls are my nieces, Madison and Gabreella. In the one of me and Madison, we are showing off our purple tongues- souvenirs from the grape popsicles we ate.

Fancy Free in Portland

I am currently reading a book about a family's eight month trip around the world. Reading about all the other countries has taught me a lot. This afternoon as I was heading up north to Portland and Vancouver, I thanked God for the roads, for my car, my bed, good food, and a cushioned seat. It's those little things we take for granted and we don't realize how privileged we are.

Why was I headed up north? Tomorrow my friend Deanna, her friend Jessica, and I are going hiking up a mountain in the Columbia Gorge. Since we wanted to get an early start, I drove up today to meet friends for lunch and coffee. It was fun to catch up and spend time with those I enjoy. Being in Vancouver with some time on my hands, I then surprised my sister and niece by stopping by their house. I didn't actually expect them to be home, they always seem to be doing something, but I was so pleased they were. We decorated a sheet with Madison for her start at preschool telling a bit about herself. It turns out, her favorite food is cheese. Now who does that remind me of? When I was her age, I used to sneak into the fridge for cheese. Forget the chocolate, I wanted cheese. Oh, and she even rocked back and forth in a chair just like I did in the video posted yesterday. It's strange to see a child who is your close relative and see a family resemblence. But special too. While we gluing little gems to the jewell shape, we counted corners of the shape to them on. Silently, I thought, "Oh, it's an octagon!" when Madison proclaims, "It's an octagon!" Did I mention she's three? The vocabulary and grasp of concepts that comes out of that child's mouth is more advanced than many I've seen at the elementary school level.

She showed me her playroom where we read the belly button book, "belly bo" as the book says it about three times. I got more expressive with each successive reading. I of course, tickled her feet and gave her a big bear hug before leaving. I think I will always melt when she says "I love you too."

The evening I spent seeing a musical from the Tin Pan Alley Theatre Company. I really enjoyed this show and will be writing more on it in the next day or two. For now, here is their website. http://www.tinpanalleytheatre.org/home/ Check it out, go see the show. It's in Portland. Oh, and on the poster, it says "Free sex". I honestly have no idea why as that doesn't correspond to the show. The show itself is free, they are doing it on a donation basis. I'll explain more about that in the next post. For now, I'm heading to bed. Early morning you know!

365-09 #216

Island Life

You got beat out last night by a walk on the beach and time in the hot tub. Can you blame me? Aunt Sharri and I spent the entire day doing pretty much nothing but sitting out on the deck enjoying the view and talking the day away. It was wonderful for us both who are so habituated in our lives to get things done. It was so nice to slow that down to a measly trickle and simply enjoy the day. We took a walk on the island in the morning. People there still wave to each other and a neighbor will stop in their car to talk with you while the other cars occasionally coming by just wiggle past. The island has a calming affect on me, especially since my Aunt and I got to talk so much. I love sitting outside and watching the water. This morning we saw two seal pups swim past and there is always the sounds of the waves lapping on the shore. Aunt Sharri reminded me how important it is to see the beauty that is all around us. And it is, beauty is pervasive. Beauty and a reason to smile can always be found no matter where we're at.

365-09 #170

Family Time

This morning my aunt and I drove over to my grandparents. I no longer wonder where I get the reading gene from. Or the puzzle gene. My Grama cleaned out her library and my aunt and I hauled bags and bags of books out of there to give away or take to goodwill. It was inspiring. I want to clean out my own library. It seems so many in my family are cleaning things out.

Aunt Shari and I were standing in the hallway looking at family pictures. Particularly, the one most of us have a copy of somewhere. It's my great-grandparents surrounded by their children. As I recall, there were seven in all. My great-grandfather, Brother Hoggatt, was an evangelistic preacher. In fact, when you drove with Brother Hoggatt, you prayed. He looks like a fun guy. My aunt says that when we die, he and my great-grandmother are going to coming running toward us. I really like the idea they know me and are looking forward to spending time with me. I'm looking forward to spending time with them.

We're going to watch a chick flick now that Aunt Shari has been saving to watch with me. My uncle who is out of town right now, is very grateful for this. So long!

365-09 #169

Safely Arrived to Fox Island

I arrived here last night to the island safe and sound. Like I told my aunt, the drive was smooth and uneventful, just the way I like it. It was even still light out when I got here. I got to do a lot of thinking along the way about the season of my life and what I want to accomplish within it. And yes, that includes the next poetry book.

Looking out over the water, this is probably the prettiest place I've ever written my blog from. For those of you who found it odd I have to have my toenails painted when I come up here, my aunt thought I hadn't but I assured her, it was just a light pink. :) This morning we're going over to Grampa and Grama's house. As the song says, it is over the bridge and we have to go through the woods... two bridges in fact. One of them I can see from here. When they were building the second span, the bridge looked like a diamond necklace in the dark. I got a beautiful picture of it which I would post but it's at home and I am on my cousin's computer here.

The other day I was listening to a song on my ipod by FFH that said Jesus did not go around telling people who they weren't, he told them who they were. He didn't say what a sinner they were, or how deprived, or how far away they were, (there are probably exceptions like the pharisees for whom he never minced words), but instead he said you are my daughter, my brother, my friend, my beloved. He told them what they meant to him first. Wouldn't it be amazing if we told people first how much they mean to God? Would we even need to say the second. I don't think so either.

365-09 #168

A Morning at the Children's Museum

Chris is three and a half years old and my adopted nephew. I met his mom when we sang the ABC's together over a CB radio on a trip to Tijuana when we were both in college. With a meeting like that, we've been friends ever since. Jennifer and her husband live in Portland so we trade back and forth who makes the drive when we get together. Today it was her turn so she and Chris met me at my apartment and we went to the A.C. Gilbert Discovery Village Children's Museum. I have always wanted to go but never had a kid to take. Jennifer, who is pregnant with her second child, said I could have hers. Chris was very excited, we even rode the carousel in the neighboring park. I always love having one of my nieces or newphew around. No matter what is going on in my life, they always give me light and perspective. They are so much fun, even when they are being stubborn and say no. (The girls are 2 1/2.) And all three of them have their Aunt Sarah wrapped around their little fingers since the day they were born. They give me so much joy. Some of our favorite things at the museum were freezing our shadows, the balance board, the room that videod you for a cool picture, the Chinese room, loooong slide, and Chris really liked the grocery store and the sand pit. We had so much fun! Thanks for the visit Jennifer and Chris!

Here are some pictures of our day. The one of just me is a publicity shot Jennifer took as I need an author photo to submit with an article I'm writing. The publicity shots I have are now over two years old since they were taken for the second book. Soon I am going to need to go out with a photographer for a new batch. For a while though, I think this one will work great. Have an awesome day!


















The King and Queen on their thrones.




















I grew up seeing this rocking chair out on Lancaster.



















I had fun practicing my numbers which I actually already knew from studying Japanese. Maybe they are Chinese too...



I call this "Dancing with Hoop"
Simply titled, "Chris".







See you soon!

The Gift of Family

This is the face I got to see walking toward me for a hug at the end of my day. After all that time at work, she put a huge smile on my face. I openly admit, Gabreella has a bit more of her Aunt Sarah's heart every time I see her. After the hug, I picked her up into my arms and kept turning her upside down which I was richly rewarded for with grins and giggles.

Having dinner together, parents, siblings, and Gabee was so much fun. Family stuff used to leave me upset for days but now I have come to really enjoy it. It's nice to know people are there who love me and who will be there for me no matter what. And believe me, we have been through the no matter what part and have come out stronger and better for it. Tonight as I thought about it, I realized it's not so much them who's changed, it's me. I'm no longer trying to prove myself, I'm much more confident, and I have a place in the group. We also have enough history behind us now, that we can just be a family. It's a gift I am very grateful for tonight.