New Start

Okay. I'm tired of wearing my heart on my sleeve so I'm just typing a new post.
This is our first weekend home in about a month. It feels good. We ordered pizza tonight, and I did so good with my calories today I could've eaten 3 pieces! But, of course, I didn't. I also rented a couple of movies. I haven't rented a movie in about 8 months! woohoo! ;-) I shadowed my teacher friend, Amy, this week. I will be teaching her 3rd graders when she goes on maternity leave in 2 weeks. I will be their teacher for the remainder of the year. That will be fun (I think I'll like 3rd grade curriculum) and much better pay. We could use that. I am also studying for a Praxis exam in April which will give me certification to teach from birth through 3rd grade (if I pass it) in addition to my ElEd certification. And I'm looking forward to going back to our Ward and my little nursery friends at church. We have all kinds of good things happening that we can focus on. So I better get off this computer and watch that movie with my sweetie. See ya! :-p

Honoring Dad

Dad often said, "Once a Marine, always a Marine."Semper Fidelis! . . .

. . . "always faithful."

"Brightly beams our Father's mercy from his lighthouse evermore, but to us he gives the keeping of the lights along the shore.

Let the lower lights be burning; send a gleam across the wave. Some poor fainting, struggling seaman you may rescue, you may save.

Trim your feeble lamp, my brother; some poor sailor, tempest-tossed, trying now to make the harbor, in the darkness may be lost.

Let the lower lights be burning; send a gleam across the wave. Some poor fainting, struggling seaman you may rescue, you may save."
Hymn #335

My dad followed our Father's lighthouse and let his light burn for those struggling along the shore. Even in his last week of life, he gave priesthood blessings to branch members, shared much needed messages from Heavenly Father, and taught us the importance of eternities through temple service. He rescued many "fainting, struggling seaman" and continues to save me. I have a new, stronger commitment to honor both my father and my Father in Heaven.

Theo Dewayne Hamblin 12/16/37-2/8/10

My dad passed away tonight at 8:20 pm. Here is his favorite poem about death:

I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side, spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts for the blue ocean.

She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then, someone at my side says, "There, she is gone." Gone where? Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast, hull and spar as she was when she left my side. And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port. Her diminished size is in me -- not in her.

And, just at the moment when someone says, "There, she is gone," there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, "Here she comes!" And that is dying.

~Henry Van Eyck

Early Morning Thoughts

My dad's sister is two years older than him and just arrived with her husband and youngest daughter. Sitting on my dad's bedside, holding his hand, my dad says, "I can't believe it. I just can't believe I'm going to see mom and dad soon." Aunt Donna says (and I wish you could hear her tone--disappointed, I suppose), "I know. . . . You just have to rub it in; you'll get there before me." Everyone laughs loudly and the conversation continues on the serious topic but with a calm and natural air that includes the humor we all share. I smirk as I listen, shaking my head, thinking, "always sibling rivalry--even in death." And that's a comforting thought because it means nothing changes.

I'm glad I'm here for moments like these. And oh the reminiscing! I never thought I would laugh so hard at my father's death bed. Last night Ben and I were laying in bed and he says, "there are a lot of funny stories here." "Yes," I said emphatically, "There are!" Like Jeff's story of a fight he had with Becky that involved a pitcher of water and him on a toilet. LOL :-D Thanks for sharing that one! It made Dad's laugh shake the water bed, that deep silent chuckle. He's checking his messages frequently everyone. He was flipping out and had us all looking for his glasses because he had received a text. And when he is too weak, we read them to him. He checks facebook easily on his iPhone and even asked us how to reply to messages on his wall. He likes to read them and being surrounded by his extended family is making him stronger. Not physically stronger, not really. But spiritually and emotionally stronger, which does affect his energy and skin tone.

He was feeling good and said yesterday, "I can't believe I'm going to die." I smiled . . . and thought about the help he needs to sit up, or the way he gets winded rolling over to take a sip of soda (the one I didn't spill ;-). Or the way his body looks older because of the dramatic weight loss. He felt good enough to eat dinner in the kitchen, but had to be wheeled to the kitchen after getting help into his wheel chair. Sitting there across from him at the dinner table, I thought, "he looks like Grandpa Mackley." And I knew. So keep the messages coming. They strengthen him a lot. He doesn't understand what's happening, really. He knows this is the end, but he doesn't understand the effects on his body. He just knows love. And he needs lots of it. And love is what he feels from his big sister as she banters with him. And love is what he feels as his mom and dad prepare for him. And love is what he will feel when they embrace him. And love is what we'll feel as we let him go. Such overwhelming love.

Dad: A Photo Journal

"How beautiful is that home where lives a man of godly manner, who loves those for whose nurture he is responsible, who stands before them as an example of integrity and goodness, who teaches industry and loyalty, not spoiling his children by indulging their every wish, but rather setting before them a pattern of work and service which will underpin their lives forever."

--Gordon B. Hinckley