#speaking of: i did v much enjoy what has frankly always been such a vital Arc from the start of the series lol s1e1min1sec1...

[unproduciblesmackdown]

see ppl would be like “lars would just wanna leave the planet again” and i would be like :///////// boy i hope that’s not what happens tho................lol

cuz idk for me it’s like. hmm i would have hoped that he’d be able to Find His Place amongst his actual home and like, find that sense of belonging there which was so important to him? out of maybe somewhere on the entire planet? and i def think there’s multiple ways of looking at / interpreting this but mine is like.....not loving this aspect of lars peacing off of the Entire Planet (i will just keep saying that lol...the wholeass world)

i mean first of all it was weird that like. lars dies and is entirely gone but there was seemingly way less of an impact back home than you would’ve thought? or i mean, maybe not more than you would’ve thought (just a random kid in a random shop) (but also! uh he died!!) but like, it’s seemingly confirmation that he Didn’t belong there and nobody cared that much? like he’d have reason to be upset about that lol......and then like. timing-wise it was also weird that finally being Back was like, a ten second deal lmao like uh where are his parents!!! somebody gonna tell them or. and speaking of, where are his parents when he’s all “yeah i’m leaving the entire planet again” lmaoooo like okay but they have no simple direct way of getting in touch with him!! bro you are in space.....bro

and like, it Did make sense that sure, lars could thrive Innnn Spaaaace in ways he couldn’t back home just cuz of like, hey everything’s completely different and you have these very solid goals and these people are totally new to you, there’s no pressure of what-ppl-expect-from-you and i don’t just mean that in an “achievement” way, but just like, ur established relationships with whoever and Performing How You Think They See You or etc etc.....and yes a group of weirdos who nobody likes is potentially gonna be real accepting to other weirdos nobody likes. and i think for a character like lars it can kinda make sense that like, such a drastic Fresh Start could even be welcome to him. and also it seems sort of like a portal fantasy situation? like, look you’ve left the Regular World and now you’re in some totally different scenario where you’re now considered remarkable just via being so unusual but also you kind of have superpowers, and nobody here knows you and you can be whoever and you have this new status and a purpose and etc etc etc etc etc etc like, imo for kids who Really Do Not Feel They Fit In for lgbtq and/or depressed-ass and/or nd reasons, etc etc, it’s like.......portal fantasy content hits different!!!!

but yanno, irl there’s no Portal Fantasy situation that hits (like, you can sure travel a distance and be in an entirely different situation / environment, but not like, narnia) and when you get older it’s obviously more like. lol okay but seriously how do i fit in Here...........and like, ppl aren’t always gonna Find that greatly improved sense of belonging or anything, definitely not always right away, but it’s still like.......i mean i was real :///// about the idea of lars being like “he’s totally fine now, this is his thing, he’s good” Before this, and maybe it will continue to Not have this be like, his ~end point~ but the idea that Lars In Space, Again, might be the “he’s totally fine now, this is his thing, he’s good” deal is even more ://///////////// cuz like. he doesn’t belong on the entire planet lol??? and once again it being not that huge a deal to ppl that he’s leaving the entire planet, except to the guy who’ll have the easiest time talking to him (but still not a Direct way)........i was all like oh hey lmao is buck gonna talk to him wow!! i’d be way into that!!!! but then.....no.....i’ll take “standing next to each other” for Something but like. idk to me it feels like it’s confirming that Lars Didn’t Really Belong And Couldn’t Belong and it’s like..................................well it’s very understandable that lars could end up feeling that way and have made some level of peace with that (when he has a Portal Fantasy option :|||||||||| ) but uhhhh like. not a .........good thing???? doesn’t seem like To Me????? like again maybe this isn’t the true final point of his arc but like. already it’s shown that him Leaving The Entire Planet is seemingly no more a big deal than going to medical school and like. maybe like, attuning the perspective on the situation re: fantasy elements, you could interpret this as the equivalent of just like, moving somewhere really far away, what with one person having his cell phone number and it not Having to be a one-way trip, but.................shouldn’t it still be a bigger deal than this. and idk he’s still Not Belonging Anywhere On The Entire Planet like. what if he hadn’t happened to land in this situation of intergalactic fugitive making friends w/ a few aliens?? he would just have never belonged? anywhere on the entire planet????????????? again like, i appreciate how like, for the most part the Places You Can Be options here are mostly “this one particular small-ish town” and “goddamn outer space” and i can also appreciate that yeah, maybe lars wouldn’t end up feeling like he belongs in this one small-ish town but like. even if he could never befriend the other Peers whom he was trying to befriend, there......are other peers even in this one town

i also appreciate that probably the “probably living for millennia” thing was going to make Feeling Like He Belongs difficult but like, that’s another thing he’s not alone in nowadays. and like wow a new way it’s difficult to feel comfortable in The Way Things Are? what else would be new. like, why would we expect him to feel like “trying not to die twice in space” fixed everything forever.....which is why i was :/// about the idea that yknow, prior to this we could assume he was totally gucci. i guess the thesis statement i wandered to is that like, it seems like lars’s sense of alienation was only affirmed? like, litchrelly bro you fit in better with these actual aliens........and like, i can see how that can be interpreted as validating, and i’m not saying i think that that interpretation as wrong, but for me yeah it’s like. oh so lars really did Not belong, and all that time he spent beating himself up over thinking that nobody was gonna want him around? well!!! he is leaving the entire planet it’s kinda a “c’est la vie” matter apparently. like, i can assume he Does want to leave, but it’s still ://///////// like well lars every time you self-sabotaged b/c you thought you couldn’t fit in? you didn’t have to have done that but you were right to think that you weren’t gonna find the connections you wanted. like, god damn. is how i feel about lars going into space :///////////////////

[godsizemylife-blog]

  Lost – and Found

Rose Jackson ©7/24/2009

You may have noticed my posts are distinctly lacking in the “God is in the flowers and rainbows” flavor. In fact, more of my posts are about trials I face or disappointments in myself. This no doubt comes from the fact that, while I am every bit female, I‘ve never been a “frou-frou” girl. I look like death warmed over in pink, I simply look silly in ruffles, and though I love jewelry, the beautiful blingy cocktail rings my sweet friend Patty has given me look like a contradiction on my thin, veiny hands. An frankly, my life has been so challenge-filled since 1995 that I find little comfort in stress-busting articles that advise me to take a bubble bath or have my nails done. God IS in the flowers and rainbows, and probably in bubbles, too, but I need a God who is there to be found IN my pain, loss, anxiety, disappointments, grief, and frustrations. If He isn’t to be encountered and experienced there, then what hope do any of us have?

After I take the bubble bath and have my nails done, what has changed? Have those admittedly fun exercises changed my circumstances? If they haven’t changed my situation, have they changed me? No. And while I love bubble baths, I need something more substantial in my life. A stress-buster to me means seeing God’s hand moving to transform me in the middle of the messes my life seems to step into again and again like the ubiquitous gum in a Wal-Mart parking lot.

I long to dance in the rain – not because I’m a pessimist, but because I know rain will come. I need a God who isn’t afraid to get wet, who can transcend, transfigure, translate and transform, as the lyrics in John Mark McMillan’s moving, anointed song, “How He Loves” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Chx6s3qXKt4&feature=related powerfully declare: “When all of a sudden, I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory, and I realize just how beautiful You are and how great your affections are for me.” I need a God of grit and guts and glory. That’s who I’m encountering in this deepest trial of my life – a God of incredible, deep compassion and love – and that’s who I pray you find within these thoughts and discoveries of mine.

This post is about my father, but Susan Miller and everyone who’s lost a loved one, this one is for you, too.

“Uuuuhhhh . . . uuuhh . . . .” Dad’s mouth opened as he tried to speak. His eyes still held that “deer in the headlights” look of incomprehension so typical of Alzheimer’s patients, but I caught a spark of – what – hope? Thanks? Love? Mom, Bonnie and I were gathered around him holding his hand, once so strong and steady as he guided wood through the saw blade, but now so forceless and weak, and touching his now thin shoulders. We’d come to say good-bye.

Two days earlier Dad had developed pneumonia. This Monday morning, the day before Dad’s 75th birthday, a nurse in the Alzheimer’s unit of the nursing home had called my Mom to tell her to come quickly, as this might be Dad’s last day. I’d thrown the car into gear and flown to Mom’s house to pick her up and quickly dash up to the home. “Oh, Rosie!” was all she could get out through her sobbing. The past five years of grieving as we watched Dad steadily decline still hadn’t prepared our hearts for this day.

Surprisingly, when Mom and I arrived, Dad actually looked pretty good. He was sitting up in a chair looking apparently healthy and pretty much like he usually did. Mom and I chatted to him while the nurses worked around us. “To him” was all we could do, because Dad hadn’t been able to speak for the past two years; in fact, he hadn’t even uttered so much as a syllable on the many Sundays when my husband, our ten-year-old son and I stopped in to see him after church. Ethan had never really known Grandpa when he was well, this man who made wagons and pedal fire trucks and doll houses and so many treasures for his grandchildren before dementia robbed him of his considerable talents.

But he was still Grandpa, still my Dad, and I thought back to treasured evenings in our back yard sitting on his telescope mount as he twirled me around the stars, or standing beside him in the garage redolent with the fragrance of newly sawn pine as he showed me how to drive a nail and drill a hole in a scrap of lumber. He was still the man I loved and respected, somewhere inside there. I dared to believe that, fought to hope it was true. Mom and I stepped aside to let the nurse take Dad’s vitals. The door opened and my sister Bonnie walked into the room. The nurse gave a slight gasp as my Dad’s vital signs shot up. Bonnie hadn’t seen Dad in two years, not since he moved from his home into this skilled nursing facility. She did live quite a distance away, but it was just too painful for her to see Dad in his continually deteriorating condition. I understood completely. Bonnie had always been there for Dad and Mom over the years, and she still helped Mom every way she could.

Dad hadn’t seen her in two years, yet something in him rose up in recognition of a face he loved, and rose up so powerfully that his heart rate and respiration increased immediately!

“Should we pray with him? Should we tell him . . .?” I honestly don’t remember now which one of us voiced what we all were thinking: should we give Dad permission to go home to Jesus? Should we give him our blessing and love? Wordlessly we all agreed, gathered around Dad, and began to pray. “Thank you so much, Father, for our father, for his love, for the faith he shared so freely . . . . “

Then we said it, every eye awash in tears that flowed to the nurses in the room, too. “Dad, if you’re ready to go, we give you our blessing to go home to Heaven.” That’s when it happened: Dad tried to speak! He looked directly into our faces and said, “Uuuhhh . . . uuuhhhhhh.” Those might have been babbled syllables to anyone else, but to the tree of us, they were the voice of a beloved husband and father, struck dumb by a disease advancing brain cell by brain cell for five years, but the man still alive and vital inside, somewhere, somehow!

One by one we bent down and kissed him, hugged him, squeezed his feeble hand, and left, fairly confident that his healthy appearance meant this might be a false alarm. Two days later he died, sweetly and quietly and I believe liberated to leave the prison of his disease and go meet his fellow carpenter, his Savior Jesus.

Some people might understandable dismiss this as coincidence to which we attributed too much significance. I might, too, had it not been for a comment from one of the nurses after Dad died, and the same scene repeated exactly four weeks later over the bed of Dad’s sister, my Aunt Cine. Francine developed Alzheimer’s two years before Dad exhibited signs of the disease. She had been bedridden, fallen away to 80 pounds, unable to walk or speak, at death’s door for over a year. Mom and I went to see her on her birthday. We took her some balloons.

“Should we tell her?” Mom asked, and I agreed. “Should we tell her that her brother died?”

“Yes,” I concurred without hesitation.

Cine was in much worse shape than Dad had been, but the day Dad died, one of the nurses on Dad’s floor at his nursing home had said to me, ‘Your father was such a sweet, wonderful man. We enjoyed him so much.” How had she known that? How can you know that about someone who can’t communicate . . . unless Dad’s spirit had been able to break out of his silence and communicate somehow, quite apart from words?

So my mother and I bent down on either side of Dad’s sister, took her hands, and I softly said, “Aunt Cine, we want you to know your brother has gone on ahead of you. He’s waiting for you with Jesus. If you’re ready to go, we give you our permission and blessing to go home.”

“Uuuhhh . . . . uuuhhhh.” Her face turned up to mine, her wild yet shallow eyes looking directly into mine, and I knew she was there. She saw me. We kissed her and went home. So did Cine, the very next day.

I never gave much credence to the notion that sometimes people need permission from their loved ones to leave. I always thought your body had the deciding voice in when you die. Now I’m certain that is not always the case.

Two intelligent, resourceful, achieving, loving people, struck down by a disease so heinous and hideous that it strikes terror in the hearts of most people. Any way but that one! What could possible be the sliver lining in my father’s and my aunt’s deaths? Simply and profoundly this: no matter what disease does to our bodies or our brains, God’s Spirit never leaves our spirit. We remain, whole, intact, filled with all the life and love we’ve known and given away, whether the outside world can access it or not. And is that a meager comfort in the face of such deep loss and pain? No, even though my sister, brother and I know we live in the shadow of DNA that may spell the same end for us, especially now that our mother has vascular dementia from numerous small strokes. It is somehow a great comfort and source of hope.

Yes, I pray researchers will home in quickly on what causes and what can cure and prevent Alzheimer’s, but while I wait, I rest in the knowledge that who I truly am, who we truly are, endures above and beyond all else. Count that as an incredible, joyful, overcoming blessing!

Note as of May 5, 2010: My brother, age 67, has just been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s. Note January 27, 2018: Its wasn’t Alzheimer’s, but undiagnosed bipolar disorder, and  lung cancer took Dave in January 2013. Five years later, I’m remembering the amazing time I had with my brother just weeks before he went home to Jesus, and I thank God even more passionately for the certainty that this life isn’t all there is, and Heaven truly awaits all who know Jesus as Lord and Savior and the Lover of their soul.  Dave,  I can imagine the smiles on Mom’s and Dad’s faces as they ran to greet you!

GOD IS LOVE, and He still proves it to us.

SONY DSC

SONY DSC

  Just a thankful amen!

Revisiting Lost and Found Lost – and Found Rose Jackson ©7/24/2009 You may have noticed my posts are distinctly lacking in the “God is in the flowers and rainbows” flavor.