Remind Me Dear Lord

The things that I love
I hold dear to my heart
They are borrowed and
Not mine at all
Jesus only let me use them
To brighten my life
So remind me, remind me dear Lord

Roll back the curtain of memory now and then
Show me where you brought me from and
Where I could have been
Just remember I'm a human and human's forget
So remind me, remind me dear Lord

Nothing good have I done
To deserve God's own Son
I'm not worthy of the scars
In His hands
Yet he chose the road to Calvary
To die in my stead
Why He loved me I can't understand

Roll back the curtain of memory now and then
Show me where you brought me from and
Where i could have been
Just remember I'm a human and human's forget
So remind me, remind me dear Lord

Just remember I'm a human and human's forget
So remind me, remind me dear Lord

(This is an old song that I love. Definitely has the country twang.)

How Appropre!

For those not living in Denver:
Just hours after President Obama signed the Stimulus Bill, the Democratic Congressional Delegation held a Stimulus Celebration & Explanation Party. Attended by mostly democrats, invited by Progress Now Colorado, the event was held at Hamburger Mary's.

For those unfamiliar with Hamburger Mary's, nightly entertainment includes:
"Drag Queen Bingo"-held on Tuesday Nights (which was last night)
"Dream Girls"
"Slut Bingo"
& one of their newest, "Beyond Drag-where fantasy hits the dance floor."

Recently appointed Colorado Senator Michael Bennet, former superintendant of Denver Public Schools, was there to answer questions about the newly signed bill.

Why does this not surprise me? It was quoted by President Obama, "These are the types of every day people we are out to help." Another pet project of the Democrats: promoting the homosexual agenda.

A Letter To President Obama

Dear Mr. President,

Please don't come to my state tomorrow to sign the infamous $787 Billion economic stimulus bill. What happened to your promise of change, reaching out to the other side and becoming more bipartisan? Your excuse was something needed to happen fast, pass this bill in a hurry. But you had no problem waiting a few days in order to make a public granstand by signing it in Denver? It could have been signed quite efficiently in the Oval Office. Come on, Mr. President, where is your integrity?

What will the cost be for you to board Air Force One, fly to Colorado with your entourage to sign a bill that creates an enormous debt for our children & grandchildren? How much money will our city fork out for added security to accomodate this ostentatious stopover of yours?

Please don't bring your pork-filled spending bill here to sign. Mr. President, you made several promises to the American public:

"To make it impossible for congress to sneak pork barrel projects into law."

Really? This bill is riddled with pet pork projects.

You promised to "make government more open & transparent, eliminating meetings where laws are written secretly, out of the public eye."

Seems like much of this bill was written in secret, shutting out Republican lawmakers.

Mr. President, I am trying hard to understand why you feel the need to come to Colorado for this historic event. Back in August, you accepted the Democratic Party's nomination as the first black man to run for president, in Denver. I was hopeful. Quite possibly, as a nation we could finally put race and its prejudices aside and truly become the United States Of America. Your own words were:

"I will restore our moral standing, so that America is once again that last best hope for all who are called to the cause of freedom, who long for lives of peace, who yearn for a better future."

But Mr. President, in office less than a month, you've already weakened that hope. Not only have you gone back on your promises, but you are about to sign one of the most contoversial pieces of legislation ever. You want to remind us of the historic nature of your nomination in an attempt to make this bill more palatable. Let's create historical & monumental moments to rally the American public together to make this bitter pill easier to swallow. As a Coloradan, I am not fooled by this attempt to sugar coat this massive, devisive legislation. Colorado is home to the National Renewable Energy Laboratory. You will sign the bill at the Denver Museum of Nature & Science which sports the largest solar panel source in our state. But what does this do to restore our moral standing for all who are called to freedom who long for peace?

I'm afraid I may find myself at the anti-stimulus rally: Barak Obama You Don't Know Stimulus

A Mother's Love

Christina & Ethan

The best way to give Ethan breathing treatments-while sleeping. He fights it a lot less.

A Week Of Love

I love and hate Valentine's Day. It's been a time of fun, creativity, giving, love & chocolate. The day has brought hurt, disappointment, tears, broken hearts, break-ups & sadness. I've talked to many who would like the holiday banned. Truthfully, I've felt the same way many times. But rather than focus on the negative this year, I'd like to set my heart on the joy of giving.

More to come on this!

Friendship

The Singing Owl at The Owl's Song gave me this Friendship award. Being the month with the Love/Valentine holiday, I thought I'd pass it along. Like Singing Owl, I am amazed at the friendships I've obtained via the internet and blogging. I am thankful for all of them. I'm supposed to give it to 8 other people. Instead, I'm awarding it to all of my blogging friends who are on my blog list. The comments and encouragement from each of you has been amazing. Love you all!

"These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award."

So if you feel so inclined, please grab the button/paragraph, and pass it along. Oh, and please check out the Owl's Song. Plenty of food for thought.

Thunk Thursday

I read labels on food. Ethan can't eat milk or milk protein. It can be tricky, as milk is often hidden in obscure ingredients. I appreciate labels that boldly print CONTAINS: MILK. Sometimes labels are a bit overdone. This one cracked me up.


I suppose if one didn't know it before, they know now. Tilpia is fish. I wonder if the milk jug reads "CONTAINS MILK" after the ingredients.

Growing Old Gracefully-Not Me

Don't get me wrong, Grace is a wonderful thing. Without God's grace, where would I be? It is an amazing gift to receive. Growing older happens whether I believe in it or not. You young people will have to trust me on this one. No matter how thin you are, how fresh and vibrant your skin looks, or how much you work out, your body is headed downhill. Fast. The cool thing about Grace is, your inward person can be renewed daily. The outside? Well, you can do a lot to preserve it, but it is going to age whether you like it or not.

When I was much younger, I loved reading the scriptures of gray hair being a crown of glory. I was actually excited to embrace that crown. My dad has beautiful white hair. As long as I can remember, he has had at least some gray. Even in his twenties. I inherited his curly hair, so why not his white hair? My hair would be glowing!

As I grew closer to the mature age of 40, I changed my mind. When someone mistook me for being Hilary's grandmother, that did it for me. I ditched the white hair for some color. I will continue in my inward renewal, even though my outward self is deteriorating. But why shouldn't my outward appearance reflect what's on the inside? I choose to add as much life and color as possible as long as I'm able. One day, maybe I will be ok with the proverbial crown of glory. For now, I'm keeping it fired up red.

(For anyone interested in my hair saga in pictures, I've posted them here. A friend is nearing 40 and in a quandary as to what to do with her own hair. So I shared my obsession with her.) If you feel dead inside, ask God to ignite the fire.

Super Bowl Menu

Not sure why I am having such a hard time with my superbowl menu. I add items, subract, scrap the whole plan and start over. But now I am stuck One item will adorn our menu no matter what. Brisket. Because even if I wanted to, it wouldn't fit in my freezer to save for a later date. Who buys a 13 pound chunk of meat? I doubt I need anything else on the menu. There is no way we could eat all of that. I don't own a pan large enough to cook it either.

So we are having Beef Brisket Sandwiches. I hope it isn't a huge failure. I'll be posting the rest of the menu and how it turns out on my recipe page. Wish me luck. It's a beast.

My Favorite Season

Summer has always been my favorite month. Think about that for a moment. Yes, someone did say that. (Anyone from Minnesota?)

My inlaws were here for dinner on Sunday, as they always are. Often we sit on the front porch before we eat, and eat our meal on the back deck. I love being outdoors. My father-in-law came in and said, "I don't think I'm going to sit outside. It's too hot!" I had to chuckle. This is the same man who lived in Phoenix for the past 40+ years. I recall visiting him in the summer. In the late afternoons, when I thought it couldn't possibly get any hotter, he'd grab himself a frosty mug of ice cold beer, go outside in the heat, and read the newspaper.

Now for some, this might not seem like a big deal. If that is the case, you've never been to Arizona in the summer. Barefoot in the park? Nobody goes barefoot, except for a visitor to the area who doesn't realize that one step on the hot sidewalk is equivalent to standing in a frying pan while it is heated on the stove. I tell you, Phoenix in the summer is hotter than hot.

For Sarabeth's 1st birthday, we were in Arizona. We planned an outdoor party at my inlaws. With the backyard pool, those who wanted to could cool off. That's another laugh. The water temperature in the pool is easily in the upper 80's, so it isn't terribly cool or refreshing. It's like diving into a deep bath tub sauna. The day of her party, the temperature soared to 119 degrees. But we sweated it out. I can't believe we were out there for hours. The following day, it was 122 degrees. I do believe we could have cooked an egg on the sidewalk had we tried.

So that my friends, it why I love Colorado. My favorite season doesn't encompass 7 months. I appreciate the heat of summer after the snow in winter. Life without change is boring.
(This was written in July, but was never posted. With the stretch of cold weather, I enjoy thoughts of summer.)

What Not To Do

What not to do when it is 3 degrees outside.

1) Forget to check what the temperature before choosing a short-sleeve shirt to wear.

2) Be late for an appointment and leave you hair a little damp and rush outside.

3) Brush snow off the car with a bare hand, then use your wet hand to fasten the metal seat belt. (It was reminiscent of trying to get ice out of the old fashion metal ice cube trays and getting my fingers stuck to the metal.)

4) Try to use the power windows.

5) Rush from the car to your appointment, with plenty of snow underfoot. Sure, the snow down your backside won't melt while you are outside. But just wait until you warm up inside.

A Walk

I took a stroll down memory lane
I went as far as I could go
But every memory I did pass
told my hurried feet to slow.

Tears of joy filled my eyes
Each tiny baby I beheld.
I watched as every one of them
grew taller, wise, on wings they sailed.

But then I found a curious thing
I stopped to look more closely.
There before me laid a dream
A faded, unborn fantasy.

I stood there for a moment
Not knowing what to do.
Should I take this lifeless thing
That once held much allure?

And while I mused I didn't see
My heart embraced entirely
The hope of one forgotten dream
It brought to life indulgently.

My hands began to close the doors
On happy memories.
With quicker steps my legs did run
To reach this neweset destiny.

Happy Birthday Laurie!

(Someone told me he was concerned that the steroids might be affecting me adversely. He asked that I NOT blog about body parts again, lol. So I promised I wouldn't.)

Today is my sister, Laurie's birthday. She mentioned last week that she would be turning 45. There is no way! I'm 45. Remember my 44th? I do, and I so now I am 45. When my sister and I were little, we were about the same size. People were always asking my mom if we were twins. I wanted to tell them, "we most certainly are not! I am almost 2 years older." But I never did. I was too shy. But maybe I was mistaken about the 2 years . Afterall, we are both 45, so we must have been twins.

A sister is a wonderful thing. A sister is better than a friend. A sister will tell you the way it is, even when you don't want to hear it. Back when I thought my hair was growing out with beautiful, natural blond highlights, it was my sister who screeched, "aaaah...your hair is completely gray!" I didn't believe her. But when I looked at pictures, sure enough. She was right. That was when I started coloring my hair.

Another time Laurie was in Denver. We were at my home, chattering away in the bathroom. We were giggling & gossiping while I applied makeup & fixed my hair. It felt like we were teenagers again, sharing the bathroom mirror, primping before we headed out for the night. Laurie loves to talk and between breaths, in a loud sucking in noise she gasped, "Joanne, you have a mustache!" As sisters sometimes do, I wanted to say, "yeah, but have you seen how big your hair is? Big hair isn't in anymore." But I didn't. That would have been childish. And I wasn't about to mention anything about big backsides. Afterall, we weren't 15. We were both like 35.

(Oops! Sorry Christopher. I know I promised I wouldn't talk body parts. Maybe I do have a problem.)

My sister is my friend & biggest cheerleader. She listens when I talk. She makes me laugh. I wish we could share a bathroom and laugh together more often. Happy Birthday Laurie! And I really don't believe you are 45, as that means I'm only 46 for a little bit longer. And I still don't believe I could be 46. Wish I was there to celebrate. I'd leave you a pillow present. I'm going to have to tell your boys all about pillow presents.

Anyone See A Theme Here?

After posting this pic of my hair it got me to thinking.

I'm in love with Rich Reds.

Slow Part 3

Through the years, I occasionally try to pull a fast one over on my body. Nothing slips past these watchful organs. It objects to things that I think it should like. In the Spring, it sniffles over the beautiful blossoms. It itches and becomes teary or sneezy over the pollen. It doesn't like to be overloaded by anything seemingly foreign. It objects to foods, even ones that I find to be delicious. And what's with disliking fresh fish & seafood?

The displeasure of the latter took awhile to figure out. (Because maybe I'm slow?) I experienced violent backlash it seemed, around special events: my anniversary, my birthday. On these occasions, Michael and I enjoy going out to eat. Because I have kids who won't eat fish, I refrain from cooking meat with fins. So it is a treat to go out for fresh fish, shrimp, lobster, crab smothered in garlic butter...yum! But each and every time I endulge, I am most miserable. While most people's digestive systems have no problem with this, I am sensitive to the bacteria that is killed by freezing fish, but not merely cooking. So while others digest this foreign stuff, I cannot. (Hooray for me! My body works the way it was designed. It likes purity.)

Do you remember this post, where I shared my sad dental tale? Not only did I hate my new crown, but I think my body hated it too. It never could get used to this porcelain imitation. To protest, it became inflamed, trying to root the darn thing right out of place. The dentist's solution? Root Canal, as if it was the root that had brought about this misery.

It all happened so fast. I went in for a consultation and walked out without my roots. What I didn't realize ahead of time was they don't just drill the tooth out. The cavern is then filled with plastic. Well, it's actually a cousin to latex, gutta percha.

Within a couple of days, I experienced difficulty breathing & chest tightness. My asthma inhaler didn't seem to help. I took Benadryl and phoned the endodontist to inquire if I might be having a reaction to the antibiotic he'd prescribed.

Since that fateful November day, I've had breathing problems. The doctors can't figure out why. I use my albuterol inhaler several times a day, inhale a steroid, but it isn't improving. Two weeks ago, rather than undergo another root canal, I opted to have another tooth drilled out and a fancy, new filling inserted. The next day I broke out in hives, and the next day, and the next for 5 days. The dr. prescribed prednisone.

So where am I going with this long, drawn-out 3 day post? It finally occurred to me that quite possibly I am allergic to the gutta percha in my root canal. My immune system is working overtime trying to rid my body of this foreign substance, which is why I can't breathe. I don't know what the answer is, but I can quit googling "shortness of breath, chest tightness, swollen lymphy nodes, fever..." in an attempt to figure out what mysterious disease I have.

Possibly, I am completely wrong. But with so many people today with autoimmune diseases and the rate of kids with autism skyrocketing, there has to be a reason. I can't help but wonder if it isn't chemicals and other declared safe products on the market that we ingest and put in our bodies that never should be. Immune systems become overloaded by so many foreign invaders that they can no longer distinguish the good guys from the bad.

In my case, it could also be some sort of bacteria. Afterall, I know I react to bacteria in fish.
My dentist said if the tooth (or the filling) is causing my breathing problems, it is an easy solution. Pull the tooth. And then what? Oh, then I can get a tooth replacement and an artificial dental implant. Like my body is going to be happy with that???

So if anyone out there has any suggestions or opinions, I'm happy to hear them.

Fiery Red

I needed a change.

Fiery red sounded hot, so I revved it up. It won't last long, as my blondeness fights with a vengeance to take back it's rightful possession. But for a few days I'll live boldly.

It's better than dull gray.

Slow Part 2

After my tonsillectomy, life became fuzzy. Ok, maybe it was complicated by the fact that I was a teenager. My body was wildly producing things like hormones. I doubt I was feeding it properly or taking care of it properly. It functioned as well as it could under the circumstances. For some reason, that whole monthly cycle thing spit and sputtered. I didn't deal well with the fluxuations.

Along came another medical professional who decided I had one more undesireable body part. An ovary had to come out. Once inside, he declared I was a mess, cut out pie-shaped pieces from each ovary, cleared out my clogged tubes, and delivered his grim message that I would probably never have children because my body didn't like me. What he really meant was my body didn't like being altered. He just didn't know it at the time. Oh, and while he was inside, he spied this little organ named appendix. Foolishly believing it to be a useless appendage that would later cause me problems, he cut that right out too.

I'm sure he thought my body would be elated and celebrate with top notch health. Instead, I noticed I was sick much more often. My body did not fight off bugs very well. Each organ in my body has a function. Sure we can live without many, but optimally, I believe I personally function best with them. I need my tonsils & appendix to do their job in fighting infection and keeping my body clean. The same way my lungs, kidneys, & liver do their job. I have this amazing cleaning system that functions in conjunction with everthing else. Without all of the components, this fine machine deteriorates.

Miraculously, I went on to get pregnant after my ovarian surgery. I was pleased with how well my body functioned with its newfound fertility, so went on to have 5 children. In the middle of my wonderful fertility, my other half began questioning whether my body really new what it was doing by producing all of these children. I tried to assure him, that I was thrilled with whatever and however it chose to reproduce. He didn't agree.

So in our attempts to come to a compromise, I allowed myself to let a doctor tweak with my almost-still perfect body. I quickly discovered hormones not produced naturally by my body caused terrible confusion. My parts just don't know how to handle chemically produced substances. I wised up quit altering my body with hormone pills.

My next attempt was an IUD. It was this little plastic T-shaped device. It's mission, once inserted into my uterus, is to keep out any occupants. This was a newer invention without copper or chemicals. So how exactly was it supposed to work? My guess is being plastic, my body would fight to reject it, making my womb a hostile environment for life. Gosh, this sounds like a good idea? It goes against the natural function of this particular organ.

Foolishly, I agreed to let MR. Dr. talk me into using one. The army of militants within my body rose up and fought against plastic IUD. I went back to my Dr. to tell him of the dissent. He asked my how I knew my body was rejecting this little, tiny piece of plastic. I handed it to him. He was impressed. He agreed that the only way for my body to expel it was it had to contract and push it out the same way my uterus contracted to push a baby out. Impressive how my body functions, isn't it? It likes things normal, so why do I try to mess with it?

Maybe I'm Slow

I should have figured this out a long time ago. Oh wait, I think I did. It must have slipped my mind. I should be thankful for gentle reminders. But I'm not. So here it is: My body was created perfectly.

What? Is that laughing I hear? Go ahead and chuckle. I'll wait. But it is true.

So what does this perfect status mean for all intents and purposes? In order to maintain this flawlessness, I have to keep everything in working order. I cannot allow substitutions, alterations or changes. To do so creates a substandard machine. Seriously. If I remove parts or add new ones, my physical body rises up in rebellion. It fights to keep out foreigners. I am filled with tiny insurgents who know how to get the job done.

Dramatic? Yes. But it is the only way I can explain why my physical self does the things it does. Currently, I am living in all out revolt mode. I should have seen this coming. It isn't as if I didn't know better.

Do I sound like I've had a revelation? Because it feels like I have. I suppose I should back up a bit. When God created my very being, he gave my all of the parts necessary to have a smooth running life. I'm talking about my physical being. I am designed to operate efficiently. My intricate parts work together in harmony for the health of all organs-without foreign assistance. All are necessary.

Around the time I was 15, a medical doctor deemed that I should have my tonsils removed. I don't recall that they were a problem. Sure, they would swell from time-to-time. But that was part of their job. My tonsils were hard at work trying to remove foreign substances like viruses from my body. Because they performed so well, some dr. guy decided they were a problem. He wanted them out.

Truthfully, from what I remember, the real reason was because my sister was having hers removed. We sort of had a family history that necessitated tonsil removal. My brother was 3 when he had his yanked, my older sister was around 15. She had a terrible time with it. So when my younger sister presented with whatever symptoms the professionals judged "fix by surgical removal," they also decided to kill two birds with one stone. Let's go ahead and pull out Joanne's tonsils while we are at it. She will likely need it done sooner or later.

My first indication that my body wasn't happy about this intrusion, was immediately after I was given an injection of morphine. In violent protest of the impending surgery, my stomach attempted to rid my body of this nasty chemical. It didn't realize, this was not a normal ingestion. It had entered unnaturally via a vein. In spite of its valiant attempts, it couldn't do what it tried in vain to do. In the end, the medical profession won out. My tonsils were removed and I was sent on my merry way.

My body did not like the loss of one of its members. It was sad and rejected.

(Not being fond of overly long posts, I've decided to extend this epiphany over several days. I do think it will all make sense if you can make it to the end. Thank-you for your patience.)

Change

I wasn't sure I could make the trip yesterday. The steroids have provided relief from the hives and breathing comfortably is nice, but averaging 3-4 hours of sleep each night isn't as grand. As a mom, it just doesn't matter. You do what you have to do regardless of health, lack of sleep, or any of the other ailments that plague mothers. A mom's job is never finished.

Sarabeth and I were out the door by 7 a.m. Driving through thick, heavy fog for over an hour felt a bit eery. It wasn't the pleasant drive I remember from nine years ago, when Christina and I made the trip for her college orientation. In 1999, we passed miles and miles of beautiful, green cornfields. A calming peace of being out in the country settled into my soul. We were leaving the big city and I'd deposit my daughter in a smaller, slower-paced college town where she'd be safe and people were friendly. (A parent needs a bit of deception to deal with the separation anxiety of losing your first child to a big, scary world.)

Sarabeth is our 4th child to leave our lovely home to live in cramped quarters, spending an insane amount of money, in order to gain a proper education. It should be an easy task to accomplish, what with the experience we've had.

(Grr...I'm not sure what happened. When I hit publish, I lost the entire second half of this post. I don't have the time or emotion to try to re-write my thoughts. Maybe I can pick it up tomorrow or in the next couple of days.)

Wordless Wednesday

Not sure which looks worse:

My Insides Are Jumping

I remember as a kid, having "butterflies in my stomach." It usually happened before I had to stand in front of the class to give a presentation. I was very shy. I was also blessed with a great imagination. I could never figure out why I was told I had butterflies. Every butterfly I'd ever seen had delicate wings. There was no way something so fragile could wreak such havoc in my midsection.

My youthful butterflies have been replaced by marbles, my stomach turned into a trampoline-like bouncy substance that propels the marbles around. Pinging around my insides, catapulting my heart into overdrive. I have no speeches to give. Nobody would say I'm shy. So why the indoor gymnastics?

I'd like to blame the steroids. Okay done. But I have a feeling I'd be left with a few stray marbles even with the drugs out of my system.

Tomorrow I'm going with Elisabeth to see a surgeon. She had an utlrasound last Friday. The doctor thinks she has a hernia that will require surgery. She's supposed to start back to school next week. I'm concerned, as she is feeling so poorly. I don't know much about hernias.

Thursday I'm driving North with Sarabeth. It is orientation at the college. She'll move into the dorms over the weekend. We're both having flashbacks of the little girl who had trouble starting new a new school year.

I'd like to trade my marbles for butterflies.

Monday

I read this post and I've been smiling ever since. If you have a chance, check it out. And leave a comment to encourage more frequent posting, will ya? I'd greatly appreciate it!

In other news....it's snowing with lots of wind. Not much fun going outside.

Anyone know what would cause difficulty breathing, low-grade fever, and now hives? The hives are new and are driving me crazy. The other symptoms have been hanging on for 2 months.

And just for fun, Sarabeth and I have been playing with my new camera. I am not camera savvy and thought one could only do these adjustments with photoshop. I didn't realize with a few clicks I could take such fun photos.

Looking Back At 2008

The Singing Owl had this Meme on her blog. What you do is take the first sentence of the first post of each month in 2008 and see if you notice any pattern or common theme.

January: Oh my, where have I been?

February: My dad found a Christmas letter dated December 1970 Title: Nothing Has Changed

March: For those who asked, no I wasn't in the hospital.

April: After I posted Birthing, I received an email from my dad.

May: My friend Heth has a great May Day tradition.

June: Congratulations Sarabeth! You have finished K-12 well

July: Ethan didn't keep the wires attached for the full 48 hours.

August: An invitation arrived in the mail: A Lingerie Shower

September: Sigh. Can I just sigh big sighs over and over???

October: I'm sitting here on pins & needles.

November: The day has finally arrived.

December: Growing up, my mom never insisted that I make my bed.

When I finished, I wasn't sure if I noticed a theme. So I tried it again. This time I used the first sentence of the last of each month.

January: My To-Do List for Today:Take Hilary to School for her trip to Florida
February: A little girl, who loved ribbons and bows and is still as cute as ever, turned 21
March: (Due to my continued battle with this illness, I didn't get photos of everyone.)

April: I phoned the attendance office at the high school and left the following message: "Hi, this is Joanne."

May: So I had this nagging feeling.

June: I woke up to loud banging this morning.

July: This is blurry.

August : What is the saying about fish & houseguests?

September: I must be losing my mind, or something.

October: In case you missed these wedding photos:

November Outside everything is blanketed in snow.

December: On the day we said "I do",we embarked on an amazing journey.

Okay, I'm not sure what to think. So if anyone else wants to try, let me know. I'd like to see what your posts say about you.

Ethan Update

For Christmas, Ethan received a new truck. I think he wanted a train.

Other Ethan news: Can you believe his neurologist wants to try another extended EEG??? I guess she doesn't remember the 48 hour EEG and how that turned out. They don't trust us to monitor him, so will conduct it in the hospital. It should be interesting.

He's happy to be back at school, after his one week break. He has plenty of "T" things to talk about: trains, trucks, tractors, & transformers. Do you think the hospital will let him drive his truck, err train down their corridors?

Quiet

When did my home become so quiet? Don't get me wrong, I like quiet just as much as any librarian or museum curator does. But I don't want to live in one of those places. Home should be a place of learning & wonderment such as happens through reading and observing. But it needs to be full of life. More like a zoo or aquarium where living happens, strange creatures doing curious things.

No, I don't want to live in a zoo, but it would be ok with me if we had a little more life here.

A New Year

I had a picture post running through my head all weekend. With the photos I took on Friday, I thought it would be fun to play "guess what this is." But when I went to upload them, poof! They were gone. Someone tried out different settings on my camera, taking random pictures. When he was finished, he thoughtfully deleted them along with the ones I'd taken.

So I'll go in another direction.

Last week, as I pushed my grocery cart towards the car, I noticed my legs felt a bit weak. This is what happens when you finally drag your tired body to the gym when you haven't worked out in over a month. Parked next to me was an elderly gentleman. He was standing at the back of his car, knocking on the window. I surmised he was trying to get his wife to open the trunk so he could load his groceries.

As I packed my grocery sacks into my trunk, I noticed this man fumbling with his in the back seat. He struggled with the heavy bags & stopped to catch his breath with each one. Closing the trunk, I paused before returning the cart. I wanted to help, but I'm often afraid of offending an older man. Men from his generation are men. They've spent a lifetime opening car doors, lifting heavy objects, & openening tightly sealed jars for their female counterparts. Would he feel humilation at a lady offering to help him?

I pushed my empty cart. When I felt the twinge of sore muscles, I silently thanked God for my health and strength. When I returned, the gentleman was still wrestling. "Sir, may I help you load these things?" I was grateful, when he stepped aside, leaning against his car to catch his breath. From the front seat, his wife turned to thank me. Her voice trembled as she told me how she was too weak to help and that her husband had difficulty lifting heavy things.

I wondered why nobody had helped this man with his groceries. The sackers were always offering to carry my groceries to the car. Had no one offered? Or had the man clung to his last bit of dignity, declined the offer, and tried to manage on his own? I wanted to follow this couple to their home. Afterall, how in the world were they going to unload these bags and put the food away? Was there no one to help?

People from this generation have lived very different lives. Possibly they could afford to pay to have their groceries delivered. But that would seem way too extravagant. Maybe they truly can't afford to pay for help. But asking for assistance from a volunteer is too much like an admission that their strength & independence is diminished.

The rest of the day I spent wondering how this couple managed upon arriving home. But even more so, what will I do if I am elderly and in need of assistance. Will I lay aside my pride to ask for help? Will the finances to be there if needed? Or will I just do it regardless of my ability? If my extended family members are any indication of my own ideas and attitudes it will be the latter. More on that later.

Twenty-Five

On the day we said "I do",

We embarked on an amazing journey.

We ventured into unknown territory,

Courageously faced mountains,

But stopped to enjoy the mountaintops.

Occasionally we walked through low valleys.

Soared high, Keeping the Blue Side Up,

But no matter the course, you worked hard to keep us going.

Along the way, we laughed,

A lot,

Managed Mishaps,

Hung on tightly, when necessary.

Changed our looks,

At least a few times.

Together we work,

And often play

Even get silly

But all-in-all

It's been a thrilling adventure

Filled with love

Joy,

Great times

While watching our family grow.

I love you more today

Than when this journey began.

Happy 25th Wedding Anniversary Michael!

Happy 55th Birthday Michael

Top Ten

I spoke with a friend today who mentioned she was madly trying to finish making Christmas presents. With finances so tight, she made a lot of her gifts. I couldn't help but notice the joy in her voice. I hope the recipients of her gifts will appreciate the love and effort she's invested in them.

Handmade gifts often require a chunk of time, but not always. I smile when I think of some of the treasures I've received or ones I'd like to have. Making your own gifts won't always be free, but can be less expensive and more meaningful than searching the stores or internet for the perfect gift. It's too late for these to be of any value this year, but maybe if I plan ahead for next year...one of these days it's going to happen.

1. Homebaked goodies. I'm not sure why these get a bad rap. I'm not much of a baker (I blame the altitude.) A plate of cookies is delightful. A loaf of bread is nice too.

2. Recipes, especially those secret ones that were handed down from your grandmother.

3. What would be nicer than a homecooked or ready-to-cook freezer meal? It's the perfect future gift. On one-of-those-days when I'm busy, tired, or stressed out, I can pull that present right out of the freezer. I'll open and enjoy when I need it most. Plus, my family reaps the benefits.

4. A music CD with meaningful, fun, or interesting music/songs. Personally, I love music. An incredibly romantic gift could be one song, packed full of sentiment, burned onto a CD.

5. For my younger nieces and nephews, I've always thought a fun gift would be that of a card or note once a month for a year. I'd try to include stickers, pictures, or a dollar occasionally and words of encouragement. What child doesn't enjoy receiving mail? Email is overrated in the eyes of a child.

6. A CD/DVD with a photo slideshow, especially fun put to music. Include fun and goofy photos. Perfectly posed photos become boring. Laughter & tears blended together create wonderful memories of joy.

7. The gift of time. Give a card with a date on it. It can be simple or extravagant.

Join me: January 31st, at 4:00p.m
Location: Starbucks
Occasion: A time to kick back, conversate, enjoy a warm drink & good company

To make it even more interesting, give the same gift to 2 or 3 friends and plan to meet at a time when the holidays are over. Catch up and have a great time.

8. A memory, love note, prayer, or blessing written out.

9. Kitchen/Dining things, tablecloths made to fit my extra-large table, napkins, placemats, table runners. (This one is extra exciting for me.) I asked my mom for a tablecloth this year. Have you ever tried to find a tablecloth to fit a table that is 120 inches long and 54 inches wide? Or buy 12-14 matching placemats at 6 dollars a piece? Add cloth napkins in and it isn't going to happen here. I know these aren't cheap to make either, but what a wonderful gift.

10. Service Gifts-A promise to wash a car, make a meal, sweep a floor, do a load of laundry. But don't give an empty promise, follow through. If necessary, give a specific date that you are available to do this.

So there it is. My top ten list of gifts that don't require you to get out your credit card, wander the malls aimlessly, or search the internet for hours on end trying to find the perfect gift.

I'd love to hear your top ten.
(Edited to add, scrapbooks, notecards, artwork, photocards, etc. to number 6. And to number 9, potholders, aprons, kitchen towels and the like.) Just in case. I'll try not to add to this list again today, but please do add your ideas.

Let The Little Children

Sitting in church yesterday, I was overwhelmed once again at God's plan of salvation. Meditating on how much was accomplished at the cross, how much he gave and provided for us, and how we can have a relationship with the Father because of this gift.

But while sitting there amazed at this incredible gift, another thought crept into my head. What if Ethan is never able to grasp this simple truth? Will he ever understand how much the Father loves him? Although we are born into sin, God sent Jesus to pay the penalty for that sin so a relationship with the Father can be restored, we can be forgiven. What if Ethan goes through life never knowing?

Tears began to flow. This just cannot be...but what if? And then, it was as if I could see the Father reach down with a smile across His loving face. He cradled a little child in his arms and began singing to him. It was a love song as the Father gently rocked.

I know that when a baby dies they are swept away to heaven. (Even those yet to be born.) I believe that we are not held accountable until the age of accountability. I do not know what that magical age is, because all of my children seemed to comprehend the simple truth before they were 6.

It's possible that Ethan may never reach this age of accountability no matter what age he becomes. But the Father in heaven will still take him up as a little child and hold him. At that time, Ethan will know. He will understand how very much he is loved.

"But Jesus said, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of heaven." (Matt. 19:14) 10/31/05

(This is another repost. Three years later, this boy is just as sweet as ever.)

Just Five More Days

It's been awful quiet in blogland. I'm thinking everyone is busy with holiday preparations. Thanks everyone for your comments. Sarabeth arrived home safely-so I can now concentrate on my Christmas shopping and festivities.

What??? I only have 5 more days? How did that happen? Yikes! Ok, I need to do what the rest of you are doing...staying off the computer and enjoying the season. I had to laugh. My sister freaked out a few days ago because she didn't have her Christmas cards out yet. I told her I still have Christmas cards from the last 4 years that haven't gone out yet. Oh to be organized, what must that be like? Tell me your secrets.

And just for fun, here is a recent photo of my oldest, Christina andDanny:

What We Did Last Night

It must have been the very cold temperatures. I was on the computer when our electricity went out-4 times. Thankfully, the last shut off was only for an hour. Hilary worked on her homework by candlelight. (After the accident, I thought she deserved a break, but she needed to study for finals.)

I cozied up in front of the fireplace. What else was there to do? In the eery quiet, I sat waiting to hear that Sarabeth had quit driving in the snow for the night and had settled in to a nice hotel, when the doorbell rang. It is heart-stopping to see 2 sherif officers standing there. What in the world were they doing on a bitter cold night, when I have children out on the road, looking for my neighbor's son???? Sheesh! (Ok, one more thing to be thankful for.)

Sarabeth took her wise mother's advice and stopped in New Mexico for the night. Can't wait to see her.

What A Day It Has Been

I squinted to try to see more clearly. This can't possibly be right. My indoor weather station said the temperature on my back porch was -34 degrees. Impossible! I knew we were supposed to have record cold temperatures, but not this cold. I pushed the button to see the temperature reading for the front of the house. Thirty-one degrees below zero. Typically, our porch readings run a bit warmer than the official temperatures for our area. So how could this thermometer be accurate???

I was a little embarrassed when Michael pointed out the tiny dot between the 3 & 4. So it was really only negative 3.4 degrees outside my window. I quickly dressed as warmly as possible. Normally I don't have to go out so early, but I was taking Christopher and Lauren to the airport. Their best friends are being married in Mexico. They were quite excited to be getting out of the cold of Denver.

Since I was driving Christopher's 4 wheel drive, I handed Hilary the keys to the Suburban. The roads were icy and I was glad she would be driving a 4 wheel drive vehicle also. We left at the same time, headed the same direction. I glanced at the time. Even though the drive was slow going, I thought I would pick up the wedding party in time to get them to the airport.

All of the sudden, an SUV from a side road came flying past the stop sign. I watched in horror as it hit the back of the Suburban Hilary was driving. Life in front of me began moving in slow motion. On impact, the Suburban spun completely around. I began to brake the vehicle I was driving. Everything came to a stop. I'm not sure which is worse, getting a phone call that your child has been in an accident, or witnessing the whole thing.

Thankfully, nobody was hurt. Poor Michael. I ran home and got him out of the shower & dropped him off at the accident. I proceeded on to the airport run. More than 3 hours later, I arrived home. Still shaken.

In a few minutes, another daughter, Sarabeth, will begin driving home from Arizona. Did I mention how cold it is outside? Or how icy the roads are? In Phoenix it might be warm, but once she gets out of town, it is bitter cold and stormy. I will be very happy when I know she is safe at home. In the meantime, I'm going to imagine Christopher sitting on the beach somewhere in sunny Mexico-completely relaxed. And in the background I hear the words to a familiar tune,

"Every blessing you pour out,
I turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say...
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be your name"

A Christmas Child

(Revisiting a previous post)

It was nearing Christmas and I was 32 weeks pregnant with my 3rd child. The hustle and bustle of the season was wearing on me. My focus was not on the true meaning of Christmas but the busyness of a holiday. On that particular morning, I was up extra early. I was determined to have some quiet time before my children awoke. I needed that quiet.

I shivered in the cold morning air. As early as it was, it appeared to be light outside. I opened the drapes of our picture window. I stood in amazement. Snow had fallen overnight and the grass and trees were blankets of white. The sun was not yet up, but the snow glistened in the moonlight. It was one of those moments I wanted to share with others but didn't dare move for fear of missing out on it.

After a bit, I cozied myself into an overstuffed chair by the window to spend some of the quiet. I asked the Lord to help me keep the stillness inside so I could reflect on the true meaning of Christmas. My thoughts drifted to the first Christmas. What was it like to be pregnant with Jesus? Was it a cold night when his mother gave birth, outdoors in a stable? What were her thoughts as she neared the end of her pregnancy? Being with child myself, I knew the hours I spent wondering about my unborn baby. What would she look like? Would she be all girl wearing lace socks and frilly dresses or would she be more of a tomboy preferring to stomp in puddles in mud-stained jeans?

How did Mary deal with the anticipation of the awesome task before her? She was to raise Jesus, the Son of God. God himself. Did she worry about the mistakes she'd make? No parent is perfect. Even if her little boy was without sin, that didn't mean being his parent was easy. She would have sleepless nights, her baby would cry. It was her responsibility to teach him right and wrong, to guide and direct him. Ultimately she would train up her child to be the Savior of the world. I was completely overwhelmed at the thought of what it would be like to be the mother of Jesus. The task was daunting. Just as I imagined my inability to perform this duty the words of Jesus flooded my mind:

"Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."

The gravity of it pressed in on me. I could not move, I could hardly breathe. My child, my unborn child, and each one of my children, was no less important than Jesus himself. Being a mom and raising my children right was every bit as serious as it was for Mary to parent Jesus. I sat there for a good long while. I was pregnant with my 3rd child. I wasn't aware that I would be blessed with 2 more precious children. Five. At that moment, 3 was almost terrifying.

But then, just as the snow had blanketed and softened the outdoors, the Lord's presence enveloped me. I knew I was not alone in this task. I was partnered with God. He already knew everything about my unborn child and what she would need for her future. I would surely make mistakes. But if I spent quiet times with Him, silencing the noise around me, God would guide me. He knows the best parenting plan for each one of us

Christmas Memories

Growing up I looked forward to Christmas with great anticipation. The scent of delicious homebaked goodies, mingled with the crisp pine of the tree as we adorned it with freshly strung popcorn. Each day was filled with excitement. I'm not sure how mom and dad kept it going. By the time my parents were 24 and 25 years old, they had 4 children. It wasn't that they started any younger than others of their generation, but they did have 4 children in 4 1/2 years. Consequently, money was tight. But that didn't keep our home from being magical at Christmas time.

Back then gadgets and electronics didn't fill our time. We enjoyed simple things. One of my favorites was listening to music-especially while my dad strummed along on his steel guitar. I loved the Christmas carols on black vinyl records, played on the phonograph. It wasn't often, but sometimes, when dad wasn't playing, he took me in his arms and we danced. I wasn't like my sister, who desired to take ballet and tap dance. I enjoyed waltzing along with a partner.

One particular occasion my dad attempted to show me the foot moves of a dance. I'm sure being so young, I wasn't getting it at all. He told me to step up onto place his black leather shoes so he could better show me. I placed my chubby bare feet atop his warm shoes and we glided and swung around the room. It was glorious!

After that, all I wanted to do was dance. For Christmas I asked for a big doll. Since I also loved baby dolls my mom asked if that was what I wanted. No. I wanted a life-size doll, one as big as me so I could dance with her. Mom told me big dolls were very expensive and she doubted they actually made them that big. That didn't stop me from dreaming.

That Christmas morning, as always, we were up before the sun. I think part of the magic was getting up while it was dark outside. Walking bleary-eyed to where the Christmas tree lights sparkled and shined their glowing lit up the beautifully wrapped packages. Santa usually left a few things unwrapped. That morning as I rubbed my sleepy eyes I could hardly believe what I saw. Not only was there a stroller I'd long coveted, but sitting inside was a huge doll. I never thought that this gift might not be mine. I pulled the life-size doll from her chair and hugged her to my chest. My mom had lovingly made a doll nearly my size. She had blonde curls like mine made from brightly colored yarn. She wore a beautiful dress. ( I later found a matching one for me.) But the best part was under the doll's fabric shoes, my mom had sewn in loops of elastic.

I didn't wait to get dressed. Still wearing pajamas, I quickly put my shoes on. I then slipped the doll's elastic bands over them. My dolls feet rested perfectly atop my shoes-the way mine had on my dad's. Holding her up, I lovingly wrapped my arms around her, and we danced the morning away.

New Faces

Monday morning I sat at my computer as I like to do. I was a bit surprised when my screen no longer looked like this:

Instead what I found is this:

Can you guess who was on my computer over the weekend? I think it was an accident. But I wonder if he deleted anything.

Fifty Sounds Old

The year was 1979. We met through a friend, actually a guy I was dating. I was in high school, my boyfriend wasn't. He lived in a studio apartment that had been converted from an old hotel. Those rooms were tiny, smaller than dorm rooms. The beds doubled as couches.

On the top floor of this complex lived four guys in adjacent apartments. Actually, one of them lived on the other side of the pool, but it's easier to assume they all lived on the same floor. They might as well have, as they hung out together a lot. Being in such cramped quarters, I got to know these guys quite well. None of them were dating at the time.

One of them I liked more than the rest. Larry had a great sense of humor. He was just finishing college, was ambitious and seemed like an all-around good guy. We got along well so I wasn't surprised when one day he asked me if I had a sister. "As a matter of fact, I do. Would you like to meet her?"

On November 28th, Larry and my sister celebrated their 28th anniversary. Today is Larry's 50th birthday. So to Larry, Happy 5oth Birthday! Thank-you for being a wonderful husband to my sister and for the years of joy you have given her. You are a blessing to our entire family.

Music To My Ears

You have no idea how excited I get when I hear the 'T' sound. Ethan's latest love is trucks. We'd be driving along and he would begin making noises and pointing. Each time I turned, I didn't see anything. The problem was, I just looked past the big semi-rigs. I had no idea that these large machines fascinated him so.

His mom noticed. So she set out on teaching him how to communicate this. I don't know how she did it, but she taught him to say 'Tttttt.' So now when I hear the 'T' I look with enthusiasm to see what he is referring to. And I try to reinforce the 't'ruck when I see it. The only problem is he also likes Trains, Tractors, & Transformers and has found the 't' sound works for all of those.

But it brings such great pleasure hearing him 't', 't' 't'ing. He is communicating.

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

Growing up, my mom never insisted that I make my bed. She had more important things to think about. Besides, if I'd made my bed, it would have taken the fun out of jumping on it. As an adult, I love having a nicely made bed. It makes my bedroom look clean and tidy.

Sometime last year, I made a deal with Michael. Whoever crawls out of bed last makes the bed. This sounded like a perfect arrangement to me. You see, 5 days a week, I get up first. On the weekends I sleep later. Plus it makes sense. If I get up first, I can't make the bed right away. It's a chore to come back later just to make the bed.

It never ceases to put a smile on my face when I walk into the bedroom & find the bed made. For me, it looks like a beautiful gift, wrapped in perfect packaging. Michael makes the bed so much nicer than I do. I've never actually watched him do it, but it looks like it takes him a long time. The pillows aren't just thrown, but neatly placed. (I figure throw pillows should be tossed and land where they may.) The comforter hangs down evenly. The sheets and blankets are tucked so they don't fall below the comforter. A simply delightful gift that brings joy each time it is presented.

The bed makers gift? He gets to sleep a little longer.

Thanksgiving Leftovers

Outside everything is blanketed in snow. I love how it clings to the bare tree branches, as if to clothe their winter nakedness. It's a perfect day to put on a pot of homemade soup and bake bread. So soon after Thanksgiving, one would think I'd whip up turkey vegetable soup. And I would. If I could.

After a lovely Thanksgiving dinner, our wonderful guests cleaned up everything. It wasn't as if I just kicked back and did nothing. I put a few things away. But as I looked at the paltry leftovers in the refrigerator, I couldn't recall stripping the last of the turkey meat from the bones. Nothing was saved for soup-making. Michael, as usual, carved our bird. He removed only as much meat as he thought we'd eat, and saved the rest to be removed later. In their zeal to help, someone must have ditched the carcass without realizing how much meat was left. Sigh. Oh well. I did feel sorry that we had no leftovers to share with our guests. There was only enough for us to enjoy sandwiches the next day. Selfish, I know.

When I awoke the next morning, I found a dirty pan sitting on my clean, kitchen counter. Sometime during the night, Michael had awakened. I don't why, but he remembered putting the turkey back in the oven when we sat down to eat. And there it sat for the next 12 hours or so. When he remembered at 5, bagged it up and threw it out. I chastised myself for mentally accusing my dinner guests of disposing of the remaining turkey. I really feel guilty for not sharing the leftover bits.

So instead of turkey stew, a big pot of chili is in the crockpot.

On a more positive note, I do have a leftover can of whipping cream. MMMM...my mocha mint coffee was delicious topped with whipped cream, and a dash of red sprinkles.

Thankful

I wish I'd cleaned my oven before today.
I wish I'd cleaned my refrigerator out too.

But I'm thankful that I have a lovely oven and a refrigerator full of food.

I wish I hadn't gotten a root canal right before Thanksgiving.
I wish I didn't have to get another root canal.

But I'm thankful I can still chew, just very carefully.