Too Emotional to Write

 

I've been neglecting my blog, and I apologize to my readers. Have you ever been too sad to do something? 

Rather than sit at my keyboard and write, I find it almost easier to talk to you. 

How long does grief last? I think it is always with us, but it grows lighter with time.

I got up late this morning. It was 6:00, but that is late for me. After I cooked breakfast, I went back to sleep. At 11:29, I awoke. This is highly unusual for me, but I guess I needed the rest. Probably still do.

I'm posting a video I made. You can see how tired I look, but it seems easier to tell you about my little daughter than to write details.

Thank you for bearing with me. 

Gay on Youtube

A Post from the Past

 

 

 Shelley and I on a Bluebonnet Trip 

I wrote the article below on September 9, 2018. That was six years ago. At that time, our daughter was in the middle of her dementia journey. She completed her passage on October 26, 2024.

With emptiness, I go through my blog and my YouTube posts to find comfort from my own words.

Odd, isn’t it?  I find past thoughts and Scriptures I’ve shared now soothe me. I didn’t consider the idea of searching for my own words, but a friend did. She sent me links to the words I had written.

It is difficult to cheer up a grieving person, and who would think your own words could have an effect?

A few people said to me, “She gained her wings.” Or, “She’s an angel now.”

These are sweet statements, but they aren’t Biblical.

She is in heaven now, and she’s enjoying the angels. In the last days, before she left Earth, her eyes grew large. I’d ask, “Who do you see, Shelley? Do you see the angels?”

She never communicated one way or the other. I believe we can see into the supernatural, and she must have seen things she couldn’t talk about.

I’d love to see an angel for real and receive a message, but so far, I haven’t. However, as this article says, I have the Holy Spirit, and He is also known as the Comforter.

 

From Six Years Ago.

 

 Angel Powers

Angels can physically perform what the Holy Spirit can't. 

Beg your pardon? How's that?

The Holy Spirit lives within a person. An angel does not. Angels exist outside human bodies in the natural and supernatural realm.

Angels are God's messengers. They deliver God's communication in a direct, corporal way.  For instance: the Angel Gabriel appeared and gave news to a stunned Mary. He said something like, "Fear not, you'll be the virgin mother of Jesus." Shocking news, right?

Gabriel later appeared to Joseph, Mary's intended, in a dream, and after the birth of Jesus, a body of angels filled the skies one night and announced the arrival of the Messiah to shepherds.

So, they can talk to us. Another role of angels is that of guardian.

People have reported seeing angels use their protective skills, as in the case of Elisha.

"And Elisha prayed, 'Open his eyes, Lord that he may see,' They the Lord opened the servant’s eyes and he looked and saw the hill full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha."  NIV. 2 Kings 6:17.

Angels can perform physical acts, mighty things that the Holy Spirit can't, but they aren't around all the time to give communication or protection. The Holy Spirit is! 

Upon an acceptance of Jesus, we begin a relationship with Him. He sends His Spirit to dwell within our soul. The Holy Spirit brings us evidence of our connection to Jesus.

The Holy Spirit takes up residence and never leaves us. His purpose is to lead, teach, comfort, and convict us of sin.  He also helps us pray. He knows God's language and speaks to Him in words we don't know. He interprets our thoughts and needs to the Father. 

I write about Sarah, an angel, sent to help and communicate with humans. She's a chaotic, bumbling, lovable misfit, and she relates well to mortals. She's funny and makes you laugh. Like all angels, she's limited.

Not so with the Holy Spirit.

I may not always have an angel nearby, after all, Sarah has others to help besides me, but I'll always have His Spirit with me.

And I have my memories.

Here's my newest Sarah book. It came out a few months ago.

Sarah Stalks the Wrong Stalker

Our Daughter Lives Now in Heaven

 

Shelley Lewis McGregor

1963 - 2024

 

Shelley Lewis McGregor passed away on October 26, 2024, at the age of sixty-one, in a memory care facility in Richmond, Texas. Born on March 6, 1963, Shelley was known for her vibrant and outgoing personality. Although tiny, she always gave a huge hug to everyone she met.

Throughout her life, Shelley was deeply committed to a work ethic. She won awards in her career in insurance sales, and she was respected by her colleagues and clients alike. After she married Don McGregor, she worked with him in the industrial coating business. She was a graduate of Alief Hastings High School in Alief, TX. She had two years of college before she began to shape her future.

She made a public profession of faith on May 5, 1971, at the First Baptist Church in Alief, TX, and was baptized by her pastor father. She and her husband, Don McGregor, later joined the First Baptist Church of Pflugerville, TX. Before going to Heaven, Shelley was a devout member of Second Baptist Church in Rosenberg, TX where she found great comfort and community.

 Her two much-loved Scriptures were: Philippians 4:6 and Colossians 2:6. Shelley quoted these two verses well into her illness with Dementia. She loved hymns, especially “In the Garden” “The Old Rugged Cross” and “Because He Lives.” She gave a big smile when we sang, “You Are My Sunshine.” Although memory faded with time, these hymns and Scriptures were the last to leave her.

Shelley treasured the outdoors, and her favorite hobbies were hiking and fishing. She found the sunshine enjoyable and liked laying outside to get a tan. Her dancing skills were admirable, so were her singing skills. Karaoke was a choice activity. She spent hours listening and singing along with the Beatles. Cooking and entertaining the family was a priority, and she was famous for her chicken and dumplings. As a sports enthusiast, she cheered for her team, The Dallas Cowboys.

Shelley married Rick Day in 1983, and although the marriage didn’t last, the friendship with Rick and wife, Gay, did. Later, in 1999, she met Don McGregor via the Internet. They married, blended their families, and Shelley moved from Katy, TX to Manor, TX.

Shelley was the loving mother to Richard Paul Day and wife Christine, and Courtney Richelle Reuther, son-in-law, James Reuther. Stepchildren Ryan McGregor and Molly McGregor. She was a cherished grandmother to Esperansa Day, Mackenzie Reuther, Jordan McGregor, and Addison McGregor. She is also survived by her mother, Gay Lewis; father, Rev. Paul Lewis; sisters, Christy Lewis Wilner and husband, Dirk and Lanissa Lewis Coker and husband Craig. Shelley was preceded in death by her beloved husband, Don McGregor, and mother-in-law, Mary McGregor.

Shelley McGregor’s legacy of warmth, kindness, and vibrant spirit will be remembered by all who knew her.

Memorials to the Alzheimer’s Association.

 

Don’t worry about anything; instead pray about everything; tell God your needs, and don’t forget to thank Him for His answers.

--Philippians 4:6

Just as you trusted Christ to save you, trust Him too for each day’s problems. Live in vital union with Him.

--Colossians 2:6

 

Pallbearers

Rick Day

Richard Paul Day

Dirk Wilner

Craig Coker

Nirav Shah

James Reuther

Alternate Jason Cappers

Daylon Durell

 Shelley

Obiturary

Decorate for Fall

As September ends, I think hallelujah! The hot, Houston summer is ending. Of course, it won’t cool down here until November, but the idea of fall brings excitement.

I usually put up a fall tree, and then decorate it for Christmas. I can’t do that this year. I threw away the artificial tree last year and haven’t bought a new one. That’s on my to do list, but they are expensive.

 Two Years Ago, I had a lovely tree.

We have traveled to New England several times in the past, and the first visit stands in my memory as the best. We rented a car and drove around Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine, and Massachusetts. 

As we journeyed through neighborhoods, the yard décor impressed me. People had pumpkins, mums, scarecrows, and they were creative with hay and wagons.

The scenery was inspirational. 

I wish more of us did that thing here in my area. We do a bit, but not at 

all like those New Englanders.

We go all out for Christmas, but that’s another subject.

Here's my mantle this year.

I decorated the entire kitchen, but here's part of it.

 

Happy Fall, Y'all

Be sure to read my latest book!

Sarah Stalks the Wrong Stalker

A Hot July

 

July is hot in Texas. Very hot, but it is the month of my birth, so I usually celebrate it with joy.

Not July 2024.

My dear friend, Mary Vaeth and I began the month of June with optimism. She is a neighbor, and we met years ago at our monthly book club. We clicked at once. Even though Mary is twelve years or so older than me, we had much in common. She loved reading, visiting and writing. We often met for lunch.

One June morning, a few weeks ago, she invited me to her home for coffee. I arrived and followed her into the kitchen. She opened the fridge, removed her creamer, and added it to a cup of cold coffee sitting on the counter. She then took her mug to the table. She forgot to ask me if I wanted to make my coffee. I didn’t say anything, but we sat and talked.

My sweet friend repeated herself more than once, and I knew something was amiss. Mary’s memory and vocabulary were exceptional. I kept looking for unsafe behavior but found none. After our visit, I assured myself she was secure, and I left.  I’m not always with it early in the day, so I thought Mary might be like me on that morning.

Later, Mary’s daughter texted me to check on her mom. I cautiously related the coffee incident. Her daughter thought her mom should see a doctor. Her daughter cares about her mom, and Mary is fortunate to have her.

The doctor said Mary had health issues, but they weren’t severe. So that’s good, right?

Or so we thought.

Mary had talked about going to a retirement home, and she had found one she liked. It a matter of days, or so it seems now, her wise and sweet daughter moved Mary to a new location where people could oversee her care.

Mary was both happy and sad. A new challenge is like that, don’t you think? We are excited to pounce upon a fresh adventure, but reluctant to leave the old.

I visited Mary in her new home on June 18. We had a marvelous lunch.  She had met a few people there, and she introduced me as her “famous author friend.” These new friends invited us to sit with them, but there wasn’t room, and besides, we wanted to visit by ourselves.

Mary ordered meatloaf, and I ordered shrimp with pasta. We had soup and salad first, and we both had chocolate cake for dessert. The portions were small, but it was a scrumptious meal. Most of the residents were older than me, and I guess their appetites were waning. However, snacks were always available, and they had a happy hour with wine.

I found it was a good choice for Mary, but I knew she missed her neighbors and friends.

Toward the end of June, Mary developed health complications and was admitted to the hospital. She had too much fluid on her body. Mary opted for a procedure that had a better chance of keeping fluid from returning.

On June 24, my friend had the procedure. Mary survived and was on the road to recovery. Or so we thought.

On June 26, she was improving.  She was sedated and talking to someone. We didn’t know who. Sedation does that to a person, but on the other hand, people who are close to eternity often see and hear people we don’t.

Mary was Catholic, and she loved Saint Anthony. She often told me, “We are on a first name basis. I sometimes call him Tony.” She knew I was Baptist, and we compared our views. I’d call her at times, and say, “Ask Tony to help me today.” And of course, she would.

I visited her in the hospital on July 4, and she appeared in good spirits. 

She told me to bring our favorite sandwich and fries the next time I came. She passed four days later.

As Hurricane Beryl blew his way though Houston, and Mary decided to fly away with him.

How do we replace friends? Family? We don’t. We splice our hearts with inadequate band aids and live with broken spirits.

But our lives are better for having known and loved these valued people.

Old Friends and New Friends.

A Tumultuous July

 

July 2024 was roller coaster ride in this household.

July 1 - we discovered ice had accumulated in the refrigerator’s freezer section. We began working on it. A technician told us what was wrong, and we ordered the part. However, he was mistaken. When the device arrived, he installed it, but the gadget wasn’t the problem, so the ice is still accumulating. 

 

July 3 - we visited Shelley. I told her my birthday was the next day, and I sang the Birthday Song to me for her. Did she understand? I don’t know. I sang more tunes for her and told her it was also America’s birthday. Before we left, we quoted her favorite Scripture and prayed with her.

July 4, I visited my dear friend, Mary, in the hospital.  Mary had been ill for a short time, and we thought she was getting better.

While I was there, Mary and I joked with each other. As I left, I told her I’d bring our favorite sandwich on the next visit. She said, “And don’t forget the French fries.”  Then she said, “I love you.” I said, “I love you too,” and we left.

Paul then took me to dinner at the Texas De Brazil. It is in Town and Country, in Houston and parking is a challenge. We finally found a place in a garage and walked a good distance to the restaurant. I would never have found the car again, but Paul knows how to do those things.

This restaurant brings all kinds of meats on a skewer. I liked the lamb chops. Their salad bar was yummy, too. Those little cheese bread rolls were also delicious.  The lady’s restroom was interesting. Mirrors were everywhere.

July 7 - My son-in-law’s father passed away in New Orleans.

July 8 - Hurricane Beryl decided to visit the Houston area. The eye of the storm went over our house. Tree limbs came down in our yard, and it was a colossal mess, but none in our yard were uprooted. Many trees in our neighborhood were literally taken up by the roots and lay in a sad, disheveled heap.

Our daughter and family had just returned from New Orleans and came to stay with us because they had no power. We have a generator, and boy, were we grateful for it!

My son-in-law called his sister in New Orleans and helped plan their father's funeral while sitting at our table.

Death doesn’t wait for perfect weather, and there are no ideal times to experience grief.

July 12 – A church member passed, and we attended his funeral. We worried about the flooded streets, but we made it without too much difficulty.

July 18 - Shelley’s daughter, hubby, and baby arrived from New Hampshire. We met them for dinner. On the way home—devastating news.

Shelley's grandbaby. My greatgrand.,

Shelley’s hospice nurse called, and we spoke by phone for the thirty-minute drive home.  She told us Shelley wasn’t doing well, and she expected her to pass at any time. When we arrived home, Paul and I stood in the kitchen, put our heads on each other’s shoulders and cried our hearts out.  We’d been expecting such a call, but when it came, we found ourselves not ready.

July 19 - Shelley’s daughter and family, Shelley’s sister, and us went to see Shelley the next day. The sadness was profound. The family said their goodbyes.

July 20 - Paul and I went to see Shelley. She was in her dark room in bed. One of the caregivers sat with her. I didn’t see him at first, but he arose from a straight-back chair to say hello. He didn’t say, but I instinctively knew he was there to be with our daughter if she went to heaven.

Over the next few days, Shelley plateaued at this new level. Her hospice nurse said, “she’s a survivor.”  I replied, “She always has been. As a full-term baby, she weighed a whopping 4 pounds and 4 ounces at birth. The hospital nurses didn’t think she’d make it, but she did. I nicknamed her Tiny Tuffy.”

July 24 - We attended a late afternoon meeting with a hospice company and again visited Shelley. We ate leftovers at home and began watching television.

That’s when I collapsed. I told Paul, “I’m sick.” He caught me as I was fainting. After checking my blood pressure and heart rate, I decided to go to the ER. They admitted me, and I took an ambulance ride to the Methodist hospital.

July 25 - The day of my friend Mary’s funeral, and I couldn’t go. The rain kept people away, but at the 11:00 hour, the funeral time, I was in the OR having a pacemaker implanted.

July 26 - I came home. Yay!

July 28 - Lightning struck our home with a sonic boom. We were grateful the telephone was the only thing damaged.

July 30 - Doctor follow ups

July 31- More doctor follow ups.

Hallelujah July is over.

 

 

 

Reading My Book

 

Would you like to hear me read a portion of this book?

Here's the link. Gay on YouTube

Book Reveal "Sarah Stalks the Wrong Stalker"

Heaven's Little Goof up Angel, Sarah, really does it this time! The poor thing tries to help her charge, Laney, but Sarah can't help it. She's a disaster in the making.  There is an evil stalker who wants to kill Laney. Sarah's angel warrior friend, Tomas is sent to hellp, but Sarah can't resist getting involved. 

Sarah knows the stalker hides in the woods. But who is he? What can she possible do to keep Laney safe?  The answer is chaos with a capitol C.

I wrote all previous books with my name. Gay N. Lewis. I will write future books as G. N. Lewis. The name Gay has brought me many hillarious moments. Maybe I'll tell you about them sometime.

Sarah Stalks the Wrong Stalker may be my favorite Sarah book.

 On Amazon

The Phone Call

 

She sits in the blue, comfortable chair. Cellphone in her hand. The landline stays nearby. She waits.

Minutes click by.

She stares from one device to the other. Will she hear today?

The landline rings. Picking it up, her voice wavers. “Hello?”

Is this the call she dreads?

“No, thank you. We give to other charities.” She returns the receiver back into the cradle.

And she waits.

She jumps when the cellphone sounds. “Hello?”

 Her greeting always sounds like a question. Is this it? The call she fears?

“Oh, yes, thank you for the reminder. I will call you tomorrow and make an appointment.”

Sigh. And then another sigh. What kinds of communication comes to her these days? Postal mail to junk? Emails to trash? Doctor appointments to make? Unknown phone calls to ignore, but she answers. It could be the one she expects. But it is not. If the unfamiliar caller is fortunate, she gives a polite, negative response.

Hope grows short with each passing minute.

Why not put the information devices away and work on something constructive?

She considers this.

But she doesn’t move.

She sits.

And waits.

The room is quiet. No television. No music. The surroundings are unusual in this regard.

Tears gather. She wipes them away.

Will it be today?

Tomorrow?

Moments continue to tick by. Can she sit like this every day?

Night falls.

Still no phone call.

The hour is too early for bed, but she needs to change positions.

She charges the iPhone. The cell and landline phones remain on the nightstand.

Wearing her clothes and makeup, she crawls into bed.

And then, she waits.

She stares at the ceiling.

Sleep fails to come.

The landline clangs. “Hello?”  After listening for a few moments, she interrupts the caller. “Sir, I don’t need political solicitors at this hour.” She hangs up and glances at the clock. The dial reads nine o’clock.

Why do politicians phone this late?

She turns over and stares at the window.

The moon’s light slips though the slant in the draperies.

Dozing, visions of a vicious creature prance behind her eyelids.

Other monsters join the first one.

They jeer. And laugh. They jump with joy. They point ugly claws at her.

She understands they wait to consume her.

With a pounding heart, she awakens.

The cell sounds off. The bedside clock reads ten minutes after three.

She knows this is it. 

 Gay on Amazon

Meltdowns and Birthdays

 

Birthday in Tennessee 2023

I'm a proud American, and I'm a firecracker born on the 4th of July. Yep, I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy. 

The doctor told my mom I would come into the world before Sunday School. Not that she planned to go, of course. She was rather busy.

The physician promised my early arrival, but not before my dad threatened to throw him out the window. My father wanted my mom free of pain. Of course, the man in charge of my delivery couldn't do much to hurry up the process, but I guess his prediction was satisfactory to my dad. 

I don't doubt my father, Sergeant Morton fully dressed in uiform, would have made good his threat to throw the man out the window, but the doctor got me here, and my dad allowed him to remain safe and sound.

Needless to say, that was many years ago, but a woman never tells her age. Not this one, anyway.

Do birthdays depress you?

Sometimes, they do me.  

For some odd reason, last year was especially difficult. On this particular birthday, it hit me that I might not outlive our daughter, Shelley.

If you read my dementia posts, or my dementia blog, you know Shelley has been ill with this horrible disease for ten years. My goal and prayer is to outlive her. I oversee her care, and this responsiblity is always with me. Last year, I was filled with anxiety as I thought  about age and realized I might not outlive her.

My family convinced me to take a trip to Tennesee, and I felt guilty for leaving Shelley. She's safe and well attended, but an unnecessay feeling of wrong doing lingered with me.

So, without warning, I had a meltdown.

The mountains have always been my favorite, and we had rented a beautiul house on top of the Earth's surface. The home had three stories.

Without much notice, I sobbed. My sweet hubby said, "How can I help you?"

I couldn't say because I didn't know. I went downstairs to the first level and stayed there until the meltdown ran its course.

Did I pray? Probably. However, I was too angry to confess my thoughts. I feared I might spout off something to God that I would later regret.

In His kindness, He understood and consoled me as I sat alone in that cool, quiet, restful place.

I love mountains, and the Smokies are my favorite. I also love the Rockies, but God keeps me in Texas.

This year, 2024, hubby and I stayed home alone. We visited Shelley. I told her it was my birthday, and my hubby sang the birthday song in place of Shelley doing it. In years past, she sang it to me, but this year, it didn't register.

I didn't have a meltdown this year, but I'm sure one will come again. It happens.

My Dementia Blog

Gay on Amazon

Gay on YouTube

From Turbulent Skies to Rainbows

 

Are your skies turbulent? Rainbows are coming.

How do you feel about endings? The Merry Month of May is concluding.  Are you happy to see it go?

Perhaps it wasn’t so merry for you. Many experienced pain and sorrow.  A family said goodbye to their mother, and then a few days later, they suffered their first Mother’s Day without her.

Spring storms damaged homes across the country. Owners are cleaning up debris and their repair expenses are gargantuan. 

Tornados killed people and the remaining family bears overwhelming grief.

A friend moved into assisted living. A man transferred to Hospice with three months to live. Their families are undergoing chaos.

When Jacob, AKA Israel, found out his son Simeon had been left in the Egyptian prison, he exclaimed to the other ten sons, “You have deprived me of my children. Joseph is no more, and Simeon is no more, and now you want to take Benjamin. Everything is against me!” Gen 42:36. NIV

Jacob didn’t know God was working behind the scenes.

The storms of life bring challenges, but God is faithful. After Noah and his family left the Ark, God gave them a rainbow.

As with Jacob, circumstances aren’t always what they seem. Your rainbow is coming.

Take courage and believe.

Lamentations 3:21–23: “Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.” NIV.

Memorial Day

 

June 6, 2024 will mark the 80th Anniversary of Dday.

The Allies hit the beaches of Normandy, France on that day. My dad went in on June 7, a day later, it is known as Dday Plus One.

Seargant Edward Earl Morton

The sites he must have seen. All the dead heroes lying on the beach and in the water from the day before. He is one of the blessed ones, he made it through and came home.

 

 Mr. Tom Moore and me at church.

Another friend, Mr. Tom Moore, became a POW in a German camp.  He came home too.

I don't have his picture, but Mr. Jim Mathis was a friend and church member of ours too.

Many of my relatives fought in WWII, but these three, my dad, Mr. Moore, and Mr. Mathis were in actual battles.

These men who returned home brought horrible memories with them. None of them would let me interview them, and I tried many times.

I read an article today that reported 30% of America's current young people aren't patriotic. I wish they would take a moment to read the reasons they have that freedom.  Start with this article.

                                                         World War II

All three of the guys I mentioned above are in heaven now, but I will give thanks for them on Memorial Day.

Numerous Americans will gather today in backyards for barbeque, beer, margarita's, play games, and swim in pools—for them, it will be a fun and a relaxing time away from work. Grills will smoke with meat and the aroma of hamburgers and brisket will tantalize the taste buds.

Smoke on the battlefields was part of a soldier’s life during every war.  The smoke did not arise from a backyard grill and fun times.  Men and women fought on foreign shores for our freedom. It was not pretty, nor did it have a fragrant aroma. No fun in this scenario.

The three men I mentioned above came home, but Memorial Day is set aside to remember those who didn't. Let us pause at this solemn interval to give thanks to those who shaped our freedom in the supreme way. 

Fly the flag. Decorate the graves. Pause to give thanks.

 

Gay N. Lewis on Amazon