Yesterday a family friend brought us a full meal. It had all the fixin’s and it was so wonderful to not have to worry about making a meal. In fact, there was so much food, we won’t have to worry about a meal for at least a few days. It reminded me of the two weeks Paul and I received meals after Derek was born. With little to no sleep and caring for a newborn, those meals were an absolute blessing. Or the day my dad died and a friend brought us Boston Market and organized a few meals for the following week. Another friend took me to lunch and provided me with a break from planning the memorial service. I’m also reminded of the time that Paul and I provided meals for families with newborns or that were going through difficult times with the death of a loved one.

It’s so hard to know what to do for a family in need. And frankly, being a family in need, it’s hard to know what to ask for. But having someone bring you a meal is a God-sent. For that one day you don’t have to worry about how you will sustain yourselves. You are given the gift of being able to focus on the task at hand without having to think, “What in the world are we gonna do for dinner/lunch/breakfast?”

All of these thoughts have really made me miss having a church family nearby. A church family rallies for you. They offer support, encouragement, comfort and prayer. Just like Ben and Aaron did for Moses, they hold you up when you’re too weak to go on.

I’m so grateful to our long-distance church family that reaches out to us while we’re away. Thank you for the phone calls, listening ears, comforting words and, most of all, prayers. When facing times like we are, it really highlights the need for a church family and creates a great sense of gratitude that could never truly be expressed.

Much thanks. We love you.

Sorry it’s been awhile. I came down with the flu for about a week. Boy, was this the worst time to get sick!

We finally found a pentecostal/charismatic church. It’s 40 minutes away which is quite a bit when your last two churches were 10 and 2o minutes away but it gives Paul and I some good chat time. The church is doing a series on how to be a contagious Christian and what that means. The summary of this message was to pray more and talk less, love more and judge less. It was the prayer portion that really touched us.

At this point, Paul and I sort of don’t know what to pray. We pray for healing, both spiritual and physical. We pray for peace. We pray for courage. We pray for comfort. We pray for grace and mercy and all of the things we’ve learned to pray. But at this point our prayers seem to be simply going through the motions of praying and praying all the things we know are the right things to pray. We both discovered that what we are struggling with this at this time is bitterness and disappointment.

We feel like whiny Jobs, “God we know you are who you say you are. But why does life have to suck so bad right now? Gah!” I’m aware of the admonishment that Job received after saying such things, but sometimes you just gotta be human and shake your fist to the sky.

Coming back to Pennsylvania to be with my mom in her last days has conjured up a lot of weird emotions.  Whether it is sleeping in the same room that I grew up in, walking the streets of the town that I rode my bike through as a kid or just visiting places that were a major part of my childhood, it is all a bit surreal.  But probably the most difficult emotions are the ones I experience as I watch Derek grow and interact with Teresa.  The way he gets angry with her when she doesn’t give him what he wants reminds me of how frustrated I have gotten with my mom over the years for the many times we have not seen eye to eye.  The way he lights up every time she walks in the room reminds me of the special place my mom has held in my heart my entire life.  The way he runs to her whenever he falls reminds me of how my mom has always comforted me in life no matter how hard I have fallen.  The way she loves him reminds me of the love that can only be shared between a mother and her first born son.  And as I sit with my mom every night watching this disease steal whatever life she has left, I pray, “God, please don’t rob my son of what I have been robbed of.”

Sorry it’s been a few days but there’s been very little to report. Thankfully, my mother-in-law is still with us. Her vitals have been good and stable and she’s been awake. It allows us to spend more time with her. Unfortuately, this time is bittersweet. Occasionally she is very lucid, she knows what is happening and she knows where she is. But those moments are very far and few between. Paul mentioned that the hardest part of watching this disease a second time is watching it steal his loved one’s dignity.The days are tiring. We do our best to get through our daily duties as fast as we can so we can rush to the hospice and spend time with her.

The light in the dark is Derek. She recognizes all of her family, but the person that lights her face up the most is Derek. The minute she sees him she says, “Derek Stephen Petroski, I your Baci (bah-chee) and I love you,” something she’s been saying to him since the moment he was born. He sits on the bed with her, gives her kisses and says her name over and over again, “Baci, Baci, Baci…” He even cheers up everyone else in the hospice. He runs around giggling, putting smiles on the families that are visiting their loved ones. He’s probably the best doctor in the place! Back at my dad’s memorial service someone mentioned to me that there should always be a baby at a funeral, because they have unimaginable healing powers. I think the same goes for hospices and hospitals.

Paul’s mom has been doing better the past two days. Now that her pain is being better managed, she’s been much more comfortable and alert, regaining some of that feisty personality. In fact, she’s been giving the nursing staff quite a lot of  trouble trying to pull out her tubes so she can go outside to smoke. But she is still confused as she does think that she’s still at home and needs to go smoke outside because the baby is in the house. We are also allowed to bring pets into the hospital so her dog, Gizmo, has been there quite few times to visit. Dogs must be able to sense these things, because he seems hesitant to go near her at times. Especially when she’s really struggling. But Gizmo and her grandson Derek will light up her face in an instant.

My mom has been in town helping out and she heads back today. It’s been nice to have a little bit of home here but soon I will be on my own. I have been picking up a couple hours here and there at the American Eagle out here, so that gives me an opportunity to get away for a little bit. It gives me a little time for myself and busy work to keep my mind pre-occupied.

Paul is doing as well as can be expected. Taking charge of the little details that his mom needs, which is a good place to pre-occupy himself. He’s given his mom his blessing on going home to be with the Lord. His biggest prayer is that if she is not healed, her suffering would not last long. But we spend a lot of time at the hospice with a bunch of Paul’s extended family and there is a lot of them! It’s a regular Petroski/Janiszewski family reunion. Joanie is central to this family and if we can’t gather in her home, we’ll go to where she is. This woman is incredibly loved and you can tell by all the people that are gathered by her bedside.

Yesterday Paul and his siblings had to make the difficult decision of putting his mom in hospice. They considered in-home care but with the amount of pain that she’s in it would be better for her to be in a hospice facility where she can have round-the-clock care. It’s a really nice place and very small so that she can get a lot of attention.

Paul spoke to the doctor yesterday and the prognosis is very grim. They’ve given her maybe a few days. She can no longer really communicate. She wakes up every once in awhile and recognizes people. But she mostly rests which gives her respite from the pain. The family priest came in to give her her last rites. She lit up when we took Derek to see her. She reached out to touch him and we sat by her side for awhile so she could see his beautiful face as she came in and out of consciousness.

As hard as all of this is, everyone seems to be at peace. Mourning, but at peace. Hurting, but at peace. Knowing that their mother/friend/sister/aunt is going to be at peace soon and will no longer suffer.

In 2001, Paul lost his sister Kristi to a brain tumor after an 11-year long battle. As the tumor and its affects began to overtake her brain, her mental and physical abilities began to decline. Paul and his extended family are now forced to watch his mother go through the same thing at a much faster rate due to the aggressiveness of her brain cancer.

Last night, Paul’s mom was taken away by ambulance and admitted to the hospital. We found out that the tumor has now grown to 6 cm and is dislocating her brain. As we finished the admission process last night, we discussed medical care for Paul’s terminally ill mother. Much of the conversation was very similar to the conversations my brother and I had for my dad a little over a year ago.

I have no spiritual insight. I cannot see the beauty from the ashes quite yet. I know that I will. I will know we will eventually see the lessons to be learned and our character will grow. But at this moment taking comfort in God’s sovereignty doesn’t feel like enough. As Paul said last night, “God we know you’re great. We know you’re sovereign. But sometimes you seem like kind of a jerk.”

A lot of people have mentioned to me that it’s pretty incredible that I uprooted my life to support my husband in moving out to Pennsylvania. This is odd to me because, quite frankly, Paul is my life. Our lives became one almost six years ago. His family is my family. His needs are my needs. This isn’t a “sacrifice” for me. This is merely me being his wife and that is the promise I made on our wedding day. For better or for worse.

I think that losing my dad opened my perspective to the need a child has for a parent at any age. I mourn that I didn’t spend much time with my dad in the last two years of his life. I don’t want Paul to have any regrets as to what he could have done or didn’t do. And I would never want to be the thing that stood in the way of his ability to be near his family during this hard time.

Of course, I’m hesistant to say what the doctors say is happening. I know that this brain cancer in my mother-in-law’s brain is a reality. But I now that God trumps reality. Actually, God is reality and His reality isn’t always what we see or feel here in our lives. Our prayer is, “God, we know you can heal her. If it is your will to heal her, we have no doubt that you can. But, we submit to your sovereignty. We just ask that if it is not your will to heal her of this tumor, that you take her home to be with you quickly so that she does not suffer.”

I hope and pray these are all healthy and Godly perspectives to have.

As many of you friends and family know, the CO Petroskis have temporarily moved to Wilkes-Barre, PA, for family reasons. Many of you know what those family reasons are. I decided to blog again to keep you posted on our travels.

That is all I have for now. I’m tired from getting our house ready for a renter and travelling with a toddler. Derek says hello, BTW.

Around 2:30am Paul and I were awakened by one of Derek’s toy. It’s this laugh and learn puppy that’s pretty cute. It sings songs and such. But it randomly started up… at 2:30am… waking us up from a sound sleep. Paul and I just stared at each other. Then after it finished singing its song, it said, “Peek-a-boo, I see you!” And then it said, “Bye-bye.” Normally, this is how the toy works. If your kid stops playing with it it’ll say the peek-a-boo thing and then says goodbye. But not at 2:30am, when no one is playing with it.

I know what you’re thinking and you’re wrong. It was not our dog. He gets locked up in the basement for the night.

15 minutes passed and it continued to do this off and on. I wanted to get up and turn it off, but I was scared out of my mind. Flashes of Chucky from Child’s Play kept going through my mind. You know the scene where the mom threatens to throw him the fire and he comes alive with a look of pure evil and bites her. This scene kept replaying itself in my mind. What can I say? Toys that randomly start talking in the middle of the night and wake you from a sound sleep will do that to a person. After the third time of this happening I turned to Paul and said, “Can you please turn that off cause it’s really freaking me out.” Apparently he was too freaked to get up as well. But he had to. That’s clearly the man’s job. He goes into the other room to face the monster while the woman remains safe. I didn’t write those rules, that’s just the way it is. Needless to say, he got up and went and turned it off.

This morning we woke up and compared notes from our weird night. We were both thinking about Chucky and really freaked out. He was hoping that it wasn’t effecting my sleep. How could it not? This freaky toy’s singing was echoing through the house!  We also discovered that after he turned it off we were both laying there, unable to sleep, almost expecting it to start singing again.

Moral of the story: No horror movies for my child… EVER! What was an innocent incident turned into the making of a Petroski Home horror flick.

This toy now scares me.