About Me

My name is Beth (Hentschel) Scibienski.  I'm a wife, stepmom, pastor and friend.  I write, sing, play the guitar, cook and bake bread.  

This is me on my first and only segway ride.  I loved every minute of it.  I was in Chicago with a good friend with two things on our agenda:  fun and rest.  Two things incidentally that are required for a person who is a primary care giver to someone with a chronic illness.

So much of my life is spent balancing or doing triage of my current situation.  When I'm not facing a crisis, I fight my default position of chasing the future.  Tomorrow is not within my control.  Today wasn't in my control.  And yesterday... well, I lived and I learned.

If you or someone you love is suffering from a chronic illness or if you or someone you love cares for someone with a chronic illness, I hope that my musings offer you rest and fun.  You need those two things just as I do. 

This is my husband Pete with his bass.  In this picture, he's playing the processional for our son's wedding.  He chose, "There's a place for us" from West Side Story.  Pete likes the history channel and is currently reading a 1000 page book about the first three thousand years of Christianity.  He comes from a long line of story tellers.  He hears clever ideas in between the words being said.  Everyone loves Pete.  He's my first cup of coffee in the morning and my last conversation at night. 

Overall my life is wonderfully captivating.

I'm the proud stepmom of two of the most amazing men (pictured left).  They are loving and generous, witty and smart. I have a kind step-daughter-in-law who is one of my treasured companions (that's her pictured with me below at her wedding). 

And this year I became a grandma, her name is Julia Luz and my new name is mom mom.  She's pictured with me below.  Her birth, and life, adjust my sight and insight every day. 

It's because my life is so full that I find being a caregiver and sorting out the issues of chronic illness to stump me.  On one hand, I am rich and peaceful, happy and whole.  On the other, I am poor and agitated, sad and broken.


And I can't be alone.  I can't be the only one that lives with the tension of life bubbling up around such stark death.  Chronic illness creates so many mini-deaths, how does one continue to believe in resurrection?