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.)
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
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.)
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.)
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
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.
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, January 12, 2009
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.
Friday, January 09, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
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?
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
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.
Monday, January 05, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, December 29, 2008
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!
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, December 19, 2008
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
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.)
Thursday, December 18, 2008
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.
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:
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
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.
Monday, December 15, 2008
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"
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"
Friday, December 12, 2008
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
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
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, December 06, 2008
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.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
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.
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.
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