When searing is no fun.

I can remember it like it was yesterday.  There was a chill in the air, and I was relieved to have my mom back home.  Patrick and I had spent a few days with both sets of Grandparents.  I however, was homesick. It was the first time we saw each other. What I remember the most was how quiet he was, bundled up tightly, eyes closed, and cheeks rosy. Sure, I finally had my mom back, but this was more exciting then being latched onto her leg. I was nearly four at the time. Undoubtedly stubborn, strong willed and feisty already. This would be about as civil and laid-back he and Is relationship would ever be, and he was still non-opinionated and defenseless...

It has nearly another 5 months since my last entry. I have been wanting to make the time to write of all that has been happening, but its more the fact that I have had too much to say, than nothing at all. Our new home out back is getting closer to having a roof, and doors, but moving day is still a ways off in the distance.  Life here will continue at a whirlwind pace, and as the visitors will begin to come more frequently,  it will get a little crazy at times.

Last year as we began to prepare for our annual trip back to the states, I began receiving concerning reports of my brothers health. After purchasing the most expensive one way air fare of my life at the ticket counter in Guatemala City, I traveled back to St. Louis alone, with my husband and children to follow 10 days later. That first night was a tremendous shock for me, as I sat in the ICU with my brother. I hadn't seen him for almost a year, and back then he was driving, going to school and practically living by himself.  That night, I walked into his room in the ICU, a pillow and suitcase in tow, to find him delirious, irritated and afraid.

Earlier that day, he had received the second of two very aggressive surgeries to remove infected tissue and bone. Before going under the anesthesia, he was walking, and making his own decisions. Now, he was bed ridden, afraid of the hospital staff, confused and in extreme pain. Much to my relief, he knew exactly who I was and was actually glad to see me. I spent the next eight hours reassuring him, talking him back down from aggression and reading to him. At one point I was able to feed him ice. The nurses discouraged it, but he loved it. To have something succumb to the force of his jaw, and wash over the painful ulcers in his moth, he was distracted temporarily, and actually enjoyed it. It brought me to tears. I tried desperately to hide this from him, but much like the failing state of his health, my resilience was fading, and it was obvious to him, that this was more than I could hold in.

Our trip to the sates as a family, began in Dallas, Texas, then heading to Abilene, and a brief stop in Wichita, Kansas before pushing on to St. Louis, MO.
We spent a little over a month trying to cram 12 months worth of missed family time, dinner engagements, and down time.
We returned back to Guatemala in mid October, with many things just as we left them. The new medical facility was continuing to support more and more outpatient care, and our new house was getting closer, but not necessarily going to be ready for Christmas.

We had just begin the adjustment back to Canilla life, when I received another call that Kevin was not doing well again, and was in a comma like state, yet somewhat responsive, I began making arrangements to head back to St.Louis, alone. Two days later, we began to make arrangements to bury my little brother, Kevin, next to my mother.

 I could not shake the memory of the last time I saw him. We both new that 'good bye' could really be good bye, yet I had a cold and Kevin asked me to keep my distance. There we stood, misty eyed, and all too aware of the future that lay ahead, and the changes that would unfold.  I told him not to worry, that it was all okay, and to take care of himself, mostly out of habit. Now I know that this was a failed attempt to not be caught without words to fill the space between what I was showing and what I was feeling, but didn't want to expose.

The weeks that followed have become a blur in my mind. But now, after almost three months, I can relive some of the more beautiful moments for what they were, and remind myself that the other excruciating memories will never be able to replace them. From the first to the last time we were together, and all the times in-between, we were really good at irritating each other, and ganging up on our father. We survived adolescence in north county, the death of our mother, and Y2K. Now, its just me, or so it feels...

Here we are starting a new year here in Guatemala. My oldest son will turn 10 this calendar year, and my youngest, for now, keeps reminding me that she is growing up fast. Its hard for me to believe that I have kept them alive this long... and remained some what gathered. I pray they will learn to cling to one-another in life, and become friends as adults. We continue to make new memories and new 'firsts' in our lives here in Guatemala. getting the old white Ford running, the first birth in the new facility, and hopefully moving into the new house in the next 3 months.

We look forward to meeting all the people who will make the trip down, and we ask that you would continue to hold our family closely in prayer as we continue to serve here in Canilla.