Ten... Twenty... Thirty... ... ...

My dad, Larry Bussa, has spent a lot of years in misery for a number of reasons. He suffered loss of very close loved ones from a very early age including the death of his own father when he was only 12 years old, all the way through his life; including the death of his mother, a brother and a son. As most of us, he never really was able to handle the passing of such close loved ones. Like we all struggle with, my dad was hurt by many people and he made some bad choices and paid dearly for those mistakes. But the last three years of his life have proven to be the most miserable for him and all that love him.

Dad had been in poor health for a very long time; but 3 years ago, his health started to decline drastically. He had known that his liver was failing and he knew that his heart was not in good shape. He was in pain from previous back surgeries and numerous other issues. But then they found cancer. Dad was so worn out, but he continued fighting. Staying true to being the trooper that he was, he fought the cancer. Surprising everyone who knew him (including the doctors!) he had surgery to remove the cancer and fought hard to get rid of it. It worked... for a little while.

After the fight with the cancer, dad's liver issues began to become an even bigger problem. Mostly because of this, he entered into Hospice while we watched helplessly as he slipped further and further into another world. He would have good days, but then he would have very bad days. We never knew when the last would be. Every time he got bad, we would assume the worst and fear that he was gone. There were so many times that I would get the news and rush down to where he lived. The entire three hour drive I would be praying that I could make it in time to hold his hand as he passed. So many times, I would get there in time for him to perk up and "come out of it" and he would "get better". We knew he really wasn't getting better but there sure were many times when he would seem like it.

These times when he would "come out of it" and seem to get better proved to be bittersweet. I lost count of the times both me and my sister would say "I don't want him to die but he is so miserable and it just breaks my heart to see him in such misery!" I would look in his eyes and see the pain and suffering. It dug deep into my heart and just shattered it. There comes a time when a person realizes that there is only one way to end the suffering and that one way has got to be better than what we have here.

One day his hospice nurse said that it might be time for me to make the trip down to see him again. Thanks to the gentle nudging from my husband, I made the arrangements and headed down south once again. Some how I knew that this would be my final trip to visit him. This was verified in my heart upon walking into his room and seeing him. His breathing was labored and he was non-responsive. His eyes would open periodically, but it was obvious that my dad was no longer there. Day one came and went and it became clear that it was a wise choice to bring an over night "just in case" bag. The only place for me at this time was to be with my dad.

Day two there were not many changes. He opened his eyes even less and we knew that he was slipping away. I had only packed my "just in case bag" for one night, but I knew I could not leave his side. My husband, my mom, and my mother in law all reminded me that this was where I was supposed to be. I made a quick trip to the local Wal-Mart and got some necessities and decided I was not leaving. I am sure that this was the nudging of an awesome God who had me there for a reason.

That night dad opened his eyes. But he was not looking at any of us. It was the most amazing thing I had ever seen. He looked straight to the ceiling with the most peaceful and amazed look I had ever seen on the man's face in my life. He had no strength to lift his finger, but somehow was trying to lift his whole body straight out of his bed, but upward. He smiled a smile that was out of this world. It wasn't a normal look, or a normal smile it was something that was completely of a different realm. I believe with all of my heart that we were allowed to see that to give us peace; and it did just that for me. I knew that my dad's time on this earth was done and that he would finally be out of pain; he would finally be happy, healthy and at peace. He hadn't had that in so long, but it was coming for him. And I knew that it was coming soon.

Through-out the next day I watched as things slid down hill. He had began to "mottle" which is what the Hospice nurses had been looking for to show that the time was near. He also developed some strange (to this day still unknown) black spot on his eye. Eventually, (and time seemed to not matter those three days, so I have no idea what time of day it even was), the Hospice nurse came in and stated that she could not find a blood pressure and that it would not be long. We all settled in, watching, waiting, trying to just deal with what was happening. Then, all of the sudden, he started to shake. It wasn't a seizure, but that is the best word that I can use to describe it. He opened his eyes once after this. Much to our surprise, the spot on his eye that we had discovered earlier was completely gone. This still baffles us all, including the nurses.

In God's perfect timing, while dad was having this "seizure" my husband and daughter walked in. I sat on his bed, holding his hand, while my sister and my step-mom sat on his other side. All of these years I had prayed that I would be able to be there for my dad and hold his hands as he passed. It meant the world to me. I weighed heavily on me as I sat and watched. God in His goodness was granting my wish. He was allowing me to be with my daddy. I would not have wanted to be any other place.

I counted the seconds between his breathes. I had read of all the things that could happen. I knew that there could be periods of time between breathes of up to 20 seconds. So I counted. For the past three days his breathes had been 3 seconds apart. Now all of the sudden, there would be five seconds between breathes. Then it would go back to 3 seconds for a short period of time. Then ten, then back to three. Finally we got to twenty seconds. Then he breathed again. Then nothing for another twenty seconds, then another breath. Next, after another twenty seconds, there was a breathe but it was different, it was more of breathing out instead of breathing in. Somehow I knew that this was his last breath. I squeezed his hand and, in my mind, whispered "bye daddy, I love you." Then I went back to counting. As before, I tried to count to the normal intervals, realizing I was holding my own breath at each second. 3... 5... 10... 20... 30... my sister looked at me a mouthed "is he gone?" I simply shook my head, "yes".

All of his years of pain and suffering was finally over. He was no longer hurting, no longer sad, no longer in misery. My dad, Larry Bussa, was granted peace from this life and full entrance into a much better and completely amazing realm on Wednesday, January 29, 2014. I cannot wait until one day I can join him there myself. I know that one day, like him, I will go there and be with Jesus, and my dad, and so many other loved ones that have gone before me. While I miss him terribly, and can be sad that he is gone, I cannot be sad that he is there. He is finally at peace. He is happy. Until that precious day when I join him, I am left with these simple words, "Bye daddy I love you and miss you. I will see you again one day!"

God's Plan for Joshua

Jeremiah 29:11 for I know the plans I have for you. God has a plan for every single soul that He creates. No matter how long or short those plans are powerful and fit perfectly into God's perfect plan for everything. He weaves everything together so intricately that we can't always see it until He is done.

Sometimes a soul can even fulfill their purpose before they are even born. Such is the case for a young one named Joshua Daniel who died when he was just 17 weeks in his mother’s womb. His mom feared for her own safety because of his father so she decided she only had one choice; to keep herself and his older brother safe, she chose to have an abortion so she could safely break away from this man. She loved him and didn't want to do this, but felt she had no choice. So one October morning she drove to a hospital and Joshua's precious little life was over,

Even though he was physically gone, God's plan for his life was just beginning. His mother never stopped thinking about him. Though this was her "choice" she never stopped loving him. God started speaking to her, he used this awful event (along with others) to show her that she needed Him. He wanted her to give her life over to Him. While sitting alone at a Christmas play that very same year, she agreed with God that she needed him and gave her life to Him.

Things started changing quickly for Joshua's mommy. One night, she was at a concert where the artist was singing a song about a baby who had been aborted. It was a very sweet song with a wonderful message, but Joshua's mom felt nothing but guilt. All she could think of was that day that he died. She felt such guilt and shame that it literally took her breath away.

With the help of a good Christian man (who later became her husband and daddy to Joshua and all his siblings) she learned to give this guilt and shame to God. God took her pain and began to use it for His own glory. She helped start a local Bible study where God allowed her to show others His forgiveness and grace. God allowed her to use this one very short, precious little life to show so many other people who God is and how He can take even the worst of situations and use them for His glory. He took this one little boy’s death and used it to help many other people, including his mommy.

 I’m quite sure if you’ve read this far, and didn’t already know, Joshua’s mommy is me. I think of him every day and still have so many questions that I will never be able to answer. The “choice” to abort my child was wrong and I have paid a hefty price for that sin. However, Jesus paid an ever higher price and has shown me that His grace is sufficient for me. I know that I will get to meet Joshua one day when I get to Heaven, I know that he is there waiting to meet me and I cannot wait for that day. Until then, I will rejoice because I know that Jesus has him well taken care of and that he had a plan for his short little life and that He has used that little life to do good for His ultimate plan. I hope that God continues to use me in helping others deal with the guilt and shame that comes with this “choice”.

Numb

I am the type of person that holds everything in. I am the strength for everyone else, so I never let out my burdens because that would mean needing strength from someone else. Deep down I wish that I could let it all go to someone, but usually it's more of just exploding every once in a while. I  guess this is safe to let it out here because I'm pretty sure that no one even reads my blog anyways. If you are reading this, please feel free to comment and let me know. I would love to know that someone actually does read this :)
I haven't been able to post for a while, but I really would like to start posting daily. I have been extremely busy lately. On top of my every day craziness, I have been driving back and forth to help take care of my dad and my grandpa (who I will from now on refer to as Popaw, because that is what I have always called him) who were both dying. I had the pleasure of getting to go see him last Friday. Things worked out just perfectly for me to make the trip, so I did. I am certain that this was a gift from God. He passed away early the next morning. This past week has been a heart-wrenching journey.
It has been wonderful being able to see family members that I haven't seen in a very long time. I have missed them all greatly and was very happy to be able to see them and catch up a little. My kids had never even met two of my cousins who I consider my little brothers because I lived with them during my teenage years. I love them so much and they mean the world to me but the live in Alabama and I live in Ohio and we just don't get to see each other anymore. So that part was nice.
But Popaw's funeral, ugh! This man was my hero. I always considered him more of a father figure than a grandpa. I just plain adored him, as did anyone else who ever met the man! He was truly an wonderful man. I know that he was in pain and is now in Heaven and I praise God for that and cannot wait to see him again one day. But selfishly, I am sad. I miss him.
I thought that I would be ok with this because he was in so much pain, but I am taking it even harder than I expected. I just can't seem to get back into life.
I guess there will need to be a part two to this, as with anything else, life calls, it is time to go to a ball game...

Slippery Slope

Falling, falling, falling.
It seems that the last few weeks, for some reason, my emotions are just falling into depths unknown. There is no reason for this. Nothing bad has happened. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just typical, busy, crazy life.
So what is wrong with me? I have no idea. All of the sudden, back from wherever I buried it before, I'm crying at the drop of the hat.
...A stupid commercial comes on tv, tears.
...I don't get dinner done in time, tears.
...Oversleep because I'm so exhausted I can't get up anymore, tears.
...Look in the mirror, flood of tears!
I thought that I had this beat. I guess some would call it depression and tell me to take a pill every day. Some might tell me that I'm not right with God. Others will tell me that I need to do this or that. They probably would all be right.
But I've been down this road many times before. I don't understand why I keep coming back to this place. I don't feel like I belong, don't feel like anyone even cares, like why should I even matter. I know this is all wrong. I know that I'm a child of The King, yet I can't escape this pit. I just want to scream, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!?"
I'm just tired. I just don't have the energy to fight this anymore. I'm tired of crying. I'm tired of feeling helpless and alone. I'm tired of fighting, why bother when it just keeps coming back?! I don't understand this. But nothing that I can do. Guess I'm meant to just be sad. All I can do is make sure that I don't bring my loved ones down with me. Here comes the front. The hard outer shell that has been a part of me all of my life. It's fake and I can't stand it, but maybe it's the only way?

Children and Christmas

I've already discussed my family tradition that has been going strong for over 30 years, but I'd like to add a "younger" tradition that has been added to my family. My children have made their own tradition to carry on, which I think is just absolutely precious! I think that traditions are important, and apparently, I've passed that on to my kids and didn't even know it, priceless!
I'm not sure how many years this has gone on, like all good things, it started small and grew to what it is today, but it has been a good number of years. I believe it started with just some television viewing and giggling, to keep themselves from exploding from the excitement of the following morning. Another joy my children have taken from me, we love Christmas!!! It's not the getting, it's the giving. We love to see faces light up as someone opens a gift that was chosen specially for them. It is just so exciting to watch everyone open presents and being so happy and excited. One of my kids, I won't mention which one, literally shakes from the excitement! Christmas morning is just so precious!
The weeks before Christmas are filled with such excitement, as well. All the kids have either saved money, worked for money, or just wanting to "borrow" money because they just can't wait to buy gifts for all of their family. Of course, being such a big family, we don't have much money, so we're not talking extravagant gifts, we usually go to the Dollar Store or Big Lots, because it doesn't really matter the amount, its the idea. We always talk about why we give gifts, how the whole reason of Christmas is because God gave us the best gift of all, Jesus Christ! We give, in remembrance of what He has given us.
Christmas is the whole month of December for my family. The togetherness and the thoughtfulness are precious. However, Christmas Eve means the day is almost here! The kids can no longer take the excitement! So they developed a way to help them. That is where their new tradition starts.
They send themselves to bed early. (What parent can complain about that?) But, of course, they are not "really" going to bed. They all meet in one bedroom, and play games that they have been preparing just for this occasion. The bedroom is, of course, decorated for Christmas. This room has become a Christmas party room just as good as any professional could do; colorful lights, cut out snowflakes all around, and of course, a Christmas tree with gifts underneath. The gifts are for a gift exchange that will come a little later in the evening. After the games and the giggling. Any other night of the year, they are not allowed to take food or drinks in their bedrooms, but for this night, some snacks and water bottles are approved. The children are having so much fun that they almost forget that at any minute, Santa could be leaving gifts for them under our family tree. Almost.
When I go to bed on Christmas Eve, I can hear sweet little "hushes" and giggles in the room. The children pretending to be asleep, because, "mom doesn't know any better". I let them keep their deception. I thought I was getting away with everything when I was a kid, too. I try to get a few hours sleep because I know that at any minute they will be waking me up screaming, "Come on mom, we've waited long enough!!" Christmas morning has arrived!

This I Believe

An assignment in my class last week was to write an essay following This I Believe guidelines. I had never heard of it before, but This I Believe is a website (and books, and radio spots) that have people write essays about things that they believe. Apparently it started in the 50's where famous people would read their essays on the radio each week. Pretty cool!
I did my essay as a tribute to my brother, who died 8 years ago. Anyone who knows me knows that I was very close to him and have been devastated since his passing. It was a joy and an honor to write this for him. My professor liked it and suggested that I submit it to the This I Believe website, I just finished doing that. I cant wait to find out if they accept me or not. I'm soooo excited!!!
I decided to share the essay here, as well. So here is my essay, I hope you enjoy! And please feel free to comment, I would love to hear what you think!!

Boys are trouble.  They are mean and yucky.  But when you share the same parents they also become something special and wonderful.  You develop a bond that will never be understood by anyone who doesn’t share in it, a love that no one else can comprehend.  Sibling relationships are a precious gift of God, and no matter how much they may annoy you at times, one day their importance will become very clear.

My brother, Robb, was five years older than me, and much cooler than I was.  He was popular, outgoing and athletic; he seemed to have it all.  But of all the things that took his attention, he loved me the most.  I was just a baby compared to him, painfully shy and friendless. I thought very low of myself, but he thought the world of me and I could do no wrong in his eyes. 

I didn’t always make things easy for Robb.  I would brutally pick on him at times.  I would do things just to get him fired up, just to be a little troublemaker.  But he took it like it was just his job as my brother.  Through it all, I knew that no matter what I needed, all I had to do was call on him and he would be there, and there were many times that I did.  Whether it was to borrow money, or go talk to a boy that had been mean to me, he stood beside me.

As we grew older, we just grew closer and closer.  Robb was at my house so much that he basically lived with me for many years. I would get frustrated at times, but deep down in my heart; I just loved having him around.  We would play video games and stay up all night long talking. We shared a love for the same kind of music and had such fun listening to it together. Of course, we always had to have pizza and chips around, or run to whatever burger joint he might be craving at the moment.  He also loved being an uncle and spending time with my children.  He would always say that they, especially my oldest daughter, reminded him of me when I was younger.  

Robb was human and made his mistakes. I got mad at him more times than I could count.  But I knew he loved me; I just never realized how much I loved him until one day when it was too late.  One horrible Thursday in August, a day I will never forget, he died too young, just shy of his thirty-fifth birthday.  He’s been gone eight years now, and my life will never be the same.

Although I live a very full life, with many precious people in it, there will always be a hole in my heart.  It will never be whole again, because it was meant for just him.   I have many close relationships: my husband, my parents, my children, and, I adore them all. But they cannot be my brother.  I didn’t realize just how much he meant to me until he was gone, and now it’s too late.  All that I can do is to teach my children to appreciate their own siblings, to help them see how precious they really are to each other.  They may not see it now, but they really do love each other more than they themselves are able to understand.  I would give the world to have five more minutes with Robb.  I would absolutely love to give him a few more hugs and tell him how much I love him and how much he means to me.  Nothing is quite like that bond shared by siblings. I know from experience, a bond between siblings is so very precious.  This, I believe. 

Family Tradition

This is my favorite time of year. I absolutely love Christmas. I love the lights, the decorations, and the celebrations. I love giving gifts and seeing people's faces (especially my kids!!) when they open the gift that they were hoping for. I love to see their excitement! I love to celebrate that Jesus came to this earth to live and die here to save us from our sins! For so many reasons (except for the temperature! I hate being cold!) I absolutely love this time of year!

But, anyone who knows me knows that there's another reason that I love this time of year. My mom and her sisters started a tradition in our family when I was a little girl that I'm sure they never saw it going as far as it has. They would all meet at my mom's house and go shopping. Not a big deal, everybody does that, right? Well, every year it grew. They decided they were going to start wearing Christmas shirts. then they decided (as my mom is known as "sparkle sister") that they needed to glitter up the shirts. I'm not sure of all the different things that happened at the beginning, because I was not allowed to go. There were no men and no kids allowed. Since everyone met at my house, I would have to get up and get ready to go to school while they were getting ready to go shopping... KILLER!! I remember I used to beg my mom, asking if at least she could call me off school and my cousin could just come hang out with me at our house. Nope, no kids allowed! At least, not back then...

In due time, my cousin and I grew up. We were the first "non-sisters" allowed to come. I was 18 my first year. By that time, what was now known as the "Sister Shopping Trip", has become a huge deal. Everyone wears sweat pants (because we do A LOT of eating, and I mean A LOT!!), our shirts all match (with the same theme, it's a new theme every year) and we all wear a fanny pack. Now, let me make this very clear. I never liked the fanny pack!! Always kinda thought they were for "old people" and I was only 18 years old!! But I wore that thing proudly once a year. Never even considered it any other time of year, it was still goofy, but it was a part of this tradition that I fought so hard to join. We decorate the room at my mom's house called "the shopping trip room" to go along with whatever the theme for the year is. We bring gifts and we make up games to play, with prizes, of course. We all make certain foods to keep at my mom's house while we're there. Especially my mom's chex mix and my Aunt Barbie's butter cookies!! A must-have every year!

The day we meet, we all stay at mom's and eat and laugh, then we eat and laugh some more, and then... you guessed it, we eat and laugh some more. Then, we finally pass out and go to sleep and prepare our bodies for the next day. Then, let the shopping begin! We get up early and hit the town! Shop all day until the stores close, and then we visit the stores that are open 24 hours. When we just can't take any more, we go back to my mom's house and go to the Shopping Trip Room and play more games and eat more snacks. Finally, we go to bed and get ready to do it all over again the next day. By the final day, we are beyond exhausted. As much as we hate to, it's time for the fun to end and we pack up and head home. Let the countdown begin for next year!

Through the years, many "newbies" (or as we affectionately refer to them as "babies") have joined us. It started with sisters, grew to nieces, and now includes great-nieces. I was very proud to have my daughter join us last year for her first year, even though she is not yet 18. The new age, I guess, is 13. Normally, I would complain, seeing how such a big deal was made that I had to be 18 to attend, but I love having the babies with us. Oh, and everyone's first two years of the shopping trip they are "in training" which means they have to carry everyone's bags and get picked on a little bit too, hee hee. We tell them in training means that they have to buy everyone's lunch, but we don't really make them do that. But they do have to have "shopper in training" written on their shirts. It was a very proud moment for me last year, when we found my very first Shopping Trip shirt and my daughter wore it. We scraped my name off and added hers to it, and it already had her "in training status written on it so she was good to go!

Obviously, the Shopping Trip is about so much more than shopping. We were once a very close family, but now we all live spread apart. We don't get to see each other very often. I miss my family and love them very much. I hold this tradition very dear. Some people say it's great and some people just don't get it and say we're nuts. But I feel very lucky to be able to take part in such a great tradition. I wish everyone could have such an awesome thing to look forward to!

The Sisters, Founders of this great tradition!

This is the whole gang that went in 2008.