I wonder if all post-surgical patients feel like this, so anxious to get back into life again? Tomorrow morning is my follow up appointment with Dr. El-Kadi and I'm a bundle of nerves...I've been Googling physical therapy protocols trying to figure out just what I'll be allowed to do and how soon I can start running again. That, sadly, looks like it's still another couple of months off for me, but I can walk all I want (avoiding black ice!) And I'm wishing I had a stationary bike since that's one of the earliest allowances--maybe I can find a spin class? Okay...that's probably not what they're suggesting...I so need to start burning some calories again!!
Hoping to get my weight back under control and fit back into my eights by summer, I've just signed up on MyFitnessPal. I've done SparkPeople for years and had great success with it, but I think I need to try something new to reinvigorate my motivation. Knowing how I obsess, I'll most likely end up tracking calories and fitness on both sites, just to see which works best--two is always better than one, right? I'm also joining up on another blog for 'Count Me Accountable Thursdays'. I need some sort of accountability and that can be my weigh in day (after I dust off the scale that's been pushed to the far back corner of the bathroom closet...) I'm also thinking that'll be part of my new blog schedule that I've been trying to put together...It's been so hard to concentrate the past couple of weeks or to set any kind of goals-I am definitely READY!
More to look forward to this week! Thursday night Bible study with my girls and a Friday morning beautification appointment with my friend, Jenn--the roots are coming in too grey, too fast and the eyebrows are needing some attention...I have no doubt I'll be feeling lighter, happier, and more eager to tackle life again come this weekend. And Michael's sister, Ashlee, is coming for a visit on Sunday-I'm hoping to have a little gifty by my favorite local artist, Marcia Furman, for her before she gets here...I'll post pics later this weekend if it arrives in time!
Did your parents ever teach you the adage: "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all."?
One of my goals when I started this blog was to not post anything negative or complaining, which leads me to apologizing for the past week of posts. There's just so much life-draining negativity in this world, the last thing I want to do is add to that and make it worse.
Ephesians 4:29 instructs us to "...not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen." Whining and complaining certainly does not fit into this description. Not only that, it really doesn't make anything any better. Do we not listen to our own words? They're in our heads before we spew them forth into the world--we hear them first, and during, and often regretfully for long after they've been spoken. Or at least I do--maybe that's an OCD thing, obsessing over those details...Nonetheless, shouldn't we be more kind even to ourselves, by carefully regarding what words we speak?
Believe me, I know it's hard to be patient. Anger quickly bubbles to a boil. But if we can more diligently apply Phillipians 4:8, "...whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things." to our daily thought processes, just maybe we can better keep that anger on a low simmer, remember to breathe, refocus on 'things above', and spare others and ourselves from our otherwise hurtful words. And wouldn't that make the world just a little nicer to live in?
I know I've been a bit whiny the past week or so, complaining about giving up my freedom, independence, and serene solitude. Yesterday I got to see a little gift in our current circumstances: Bug and his grandma.
We moved away from family when Michael was only fifteen months old. He's grown up without his sister, grandparents, or cousins. Over the years he's kind of adopted other grandparents and extended family through church and neighbors. Kind, sweet people who've embraced him and loved him and made us all feel like family.
When we had the opportunity to move home again a couple years ago, I was happy that Michael would actually have the chance to finally get to know his grandmother and cousins. No longer would we have to spend birthdays and holidays with just the three of us. Still, there are only so many of those 'special' days, and we've not had as much time with family as I thought we would and now we're moving on once more. Fortunately, this move will take us to be with Bill's family, and Michael will have his sister and more cousins around, and a chance to know that side of the family now.
Yesterday was the first day of a four day weekend from school for Michael. We have bowling plans the last three days of the break, but nothing was scheduled for Friday other than a trip to our favorite Chinese buffet: the Fortune Star. We stuffed ourselves silly, full of crab rangoon, stir-fry green beans, egg foo yung and more...Michael couldn't wait to show Grandma his dessert concoction of pudding, chocolate cake, cookies 'n cream ice cream, all smashed up with fortune cookies. Yeah, it looks pretty gross, but he makes it every time we eat there, and you kinda have to admit--what could be wrong with a combination like that?
After we came home, Bug and Grandma played a few games, then cuddled on the couch, gabbing away. Michael is as much of a talker as Grandma is, and the two of them prattled on most of the afternoon. It melted my heart to see him so happy. As frustrated as I have felt, I'm really thankful that the two of them have this time together--this gift in the darkness, a light of love...makes the rest seem easier to bear.
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." ~Matthew 11:28-30
I don't do well with noise. I am a huge fan of golden silence. Probably half my problem these past couple of weeks...Even when Bill was still here, he'd get up and head off to work, Michael would go off to school, the dogs would all settle down for their naps, and I'd have beautiful, sweet silence. Not so much now with another person in the house...
Mom's a talker. A constant talker. And a fairly negative commentator. I grit my teeth and shoulders tense, bury my face in my book...I don't like noise. And I can't get away from it right now. There isn't an off button. Deep breath, try another paragraph...
I'm sure I sound ungrateful. She did fly up from Florida to help me get through my recovery time, and I am thankful for that. It's just everything else that comes along with it is a rather hard pill to swallow.
Michael is having a difficult time right now dealing with our upcoming move. Facing leaving all his friends once more, and heading into the great unknown of another school and having to make new friends all over again is very daunting. Daddy's been gone almost two months now. Then he watched as I lost control during the tremors and was rushed off to the emergency room in an ambulance, followed a few weeks later by a stay in the hospital for surgery. How much more can be piled upon his shoulders? I'm in my forties and it's a struggle for me to handle...I can't begin to imagine how scary all of this is for a ten year old!
So he's been acting out and having meltdowns. And I'm getting lectured about how my child isn't normal and he needs help because he's too out of control. Everything in his life is not normal and out of control right now! She broadcasts to her friends his bizarre behavior and my apparent lack of parenting skills, as if my family's private business is hers to share and I fume inside.
So I cherish my few hours of morning time in silence. Pray for peace, strength, patience. Wishing my husband was here, wishing all of this was over. I need to get back to my routine, and find the quiet within. Soon...soon...
I went for a walk yesterday morning. A quick couple of miles around my usual running route. Made me really want to run, feel my heart pounding in my chest, cold air chilling my lungs, the beat of feet on pavement. But I contained my pace to walking, breathing deep of fresh, cool morning air. Waving as neighbors left on their way to work. It was freeing, being out on my own for just a little while. Restoring a tiny semblence of independence for just those few minutes away. Helped me hold on better the rest of the day.
The weekend will be busy, that will help. Bug has a four day weekend from school so I think we'll hit the Chinese buffet for lunch tomorrow to get us out of the kitchen. Saturday is bowling, and then Sunday he has a tournament--the first that Grandma has gotten to see. That's also our new pastor's installation service in the afternoon and I think I'm ready to brave church again, even with my choke, er, cervical collar--I'll sport my pretty purple paw-paw bling! Monday Bug is off for Presidents' Day, so we have a bowling date planned with friends and I need to get a couple quick X-rays done to take with me to my appointment on Wednesday with the neurosurgeon, hoping to hear I'm allowed to live again...please!! So close I can almost taste it...freedom!!
Who knew I'd ever really want so desperately to get on hands and knees and scrub my house clean again? Two weeks watching dirt accumulate has been as stressful as living with this collar strangling my neck. When did I become such a clean freak?? I need to get the house presentable for showing again, my realtor as anxious as I am to get things moving once more. The time is coming and I can feel it...Almost there...almost there....
Freedom and privacy. You don't realize how much you take simple freedoms for granted until you no longer have the ability to go and do whatever you want, whenever you want. I'm not allowed to drive for at least another week. I'm not allowed to clean my own house. Never in a million years would I have thought that would bother me, but it is driving me insane this week! Watching dog hair and water spots accumulate and I can't do anything about it...I have surrendered my laundry to another woman who doesn't fold the way I do and she keeps putting my pants in the dryer even after I told her not to. I can't just pop in my car and zip over to Walmart or run to the mall, swing by Sheetz for a quick cup of coffee...I want my house and my life back.
And all of my life is under her scrutiny. Everything I eat. Everything I watch on TV. Every piece of clothes I wear. Every text I get. Everything I do wrong with Michael. And I have to hear about it. Or I hear her telling others about it on the phone when her friends from Florida call, or my uncle who she talks to daily. As if my life is her business to share. It's pushing me to the very edge.
Tucker wanted to wake everyone up at five-thirty this morning, growling victorious at the baby gate with chewies crammed in his mouth. I whisked him outside with Ruby and sent the people back to bed. This is my time--my peace. I can't run away but I'm trying not to scream. I'm praying for patience to make it through another week...
It's hard having my mother here while I'm recuperating from surgery. Growing up, I was a rebellious child and couldn't wait to get out on my own. Now here I am at forty-four, being chased after and chastized again, only in my own home this time-humiliating and frustrating.
My temper has been on a low simmer since the surgery. First of all, angry that something was actually wrong with me that I had to allow another human being to cut me open and 'fix' that problem. Then, angrier that I wouldn't be able to run or work out, not just for a few days, they're talking a few months! Physical exercise is my therapy, it's how I cope and burn off stress. The low simmer started getting a little warmer. Putting the pot on a full boil came when I had to accept having my mother come stay with me and look after my house and my child while I myself had been deemed incapable.
I like being an independent person. As much as I'm not crazy about my husband being some six hundred miles away starting a new career while Michael and I stay behind waiting for the house to sell, I know it's a situation we can manage. We've done it before and survived quite well, and I knew we'd make it through this time, too. Then came the tremors and everything changed...
I'm reading Daniel right now. This morning's chapter was about King Nebuchadnezzar's dream of the beautiful life giving tree being chopped down and stripped, the stump chained and left alone in a field of grass. God wanted Nebuchadnezzar to acknowledge all that he had, his kingdom, his wealth, and his success had not been obtained on his own, but rather all had come from the hand of God. He wanted Nebuchadnezzar to swallow some of his pride and give proper credit and praise for all that he had been given. So God took away his kingdom, stripped him of all his power and wealth and left him to live on his own, wild, eating grass like an animal, until Nebuchadnezzar finally acknowledged God's graciousness and repented of his pride.
I'm feeling a little like Nebuchadnezzar this morning. All the time I thought I had the strength on my own to see Michael and I through this move. You know, that 'Been there, done that' attitude? It certainly feels like I've been chopped down like that tree and stripped of all my strength, in an attempt to make me see that I cannot do all of this on my own. It is God who gives me my strength, patience, and endurance. It is God who holds together my marriage separated by so many distant miles, binding my heart to my husband's when we're not even able to hold each other's hands. It is in God's perfect timing that He will send us a buyer and provide us the means to pack up our belongings and move on to our new lives. And it is God who will heal me and restore my strength again, when He is ready.
And it is God who humbles me and allows me to let my mother take care of me while I'm not able to do so myself.
I had been feeling sorry for myself that my husband wouldn't be home for another Valentines Day this year until I read one of my favorite blogs, Make Me A Mary, this morning. The author's husband killed himself last year leaving her to raise their four children on her own. That certainly put a whole new perspective on my little self-pity party. My husband may not be home with me to celebrate Valentines Day as I'm slowly recuperating from this surgery, but he is alive and well and we will celebrate another day when we can be together again once more.
Then I started looking for ideas to celebrate Lent and Easter here with Michael. Fat Tuesday fast approaches and Ash Wednesday is next week already! My other favorite website, A Holy Experience, had a couple suggestions I really like: a Repentance Box for Lent and planting an Easter Garden. The garden is especially appealing to me this time of year. As much as I love winter and snow, I also love bringing a little greenery and life indoors as a reminder of the coming of spring. This is a beautiful little container garden that I think Michael and I will both enjoy planting together.
I'm also already looking forward to the morning sunrise service at Lake Arthur again this year. We sat under umbrellas last year through an early morning sprinkle, everyone softly chuckling through the readings as two geese curiously and noisly swam closer and closer to our gathering, then boldly joined us on shore, hoping for a little communion bread as we celebrated Christ's resurrection. Best Easter service ever! Second best we hiked to a Tennessee mountaintop at five-thirty in the morning to watch the sun come up over our little town of Oliver Springs...
I'm not sure if I'll plan an Easter basket for Michael or not, we certainly don't need the candy or the calories. He always loves dying eggs every year, though I'm the only one who eats hard boiled eggs and I'm not sure I want all that cholesterol either...Maybe we'll have to come up with some other creative ideas this year instead....
I truly have the best friends in the world. Yesterday morning as we were getting ready to head to bowling, two things bothered me: the snow covered roads, and having to be out in public with this ugly cervical collar.
It hit me how we unconciously stare (glare?) at people who are handicapped in some way--those in wheelchairs, crutches, slings, and, more so, cervical collars. For some reason, maybe due to too many TV shows about people trying to cheat insurance companies with fraudulous whiplash claims, I have associated people wearing cervical collars as liars and schemers. And here I am, stuck wearing this hideous thing for at least the next two weeks--liar and schemer screaming around my neck. Maybe God is trying to teach me a lesson about judging others by outward appearances?? He has quite the knack for teaching us humility...
He also has quite the knack for showing us love. As I was busy getting dressed, I received a text from my dear friend, Missy, telling me to have Michael or Grandma check the mailbox for a little breakfast and bling...Not what one typically finds in one's mailbox, but I sent Bug out into the snowy morning to find out what treasure she had left for us. Michael came back in bearing a Target bag filled with a variety of homemade muffins and an envelope containing the most precious gift: a purple knit cover for my cervical collar blinged out with paw prints in rhinestones--coolest thing ever!! I quickly slipped it on over my collar, grinning giddily--I couldn't wait to show it off at bowling!! How instantly my outlook had changed from shame to joy--that is a gift of love! And the muffins Missy made are pretty tasty, too!
We still had the snowy roads to contend with and my driver--my mother--hasn't driven in snow for at least the past three years. The last time she'd been home for winter was the year my father was diagnosed with lung cancer and they couldn't escape to Florida while he was undergoing treatment. My other dear friend, Jenn, came to our rescue in that regard. She and her boys, who both bowl on the same team with Michael, graciously offered to pick us up and bring us home, saving Mom and I both a huge amount of stress over Mom's lack of snow driving skills. And we even managed to squeeze in a Sheetz run for coffee, donuts, and free M&M's before heading to the bowling alley--definitely a bright way to start the day!
So, #94 in my counting of a thousand gifts, is love from friends, who I'm sure have no idea how much better they made my day yesterday with simple thoughtfulness and selflessness...I am truly thankful God has blessed my life with these women!
Well, it is five days post surgery. I've been home for two days and this is the first morning I hadn't woken up in the middle of the night needing pain medication and, in fact, haven't had to take anything since I woke up at four, a little over two hours ago! Progress! No doubt I'll need a little to get through the day but considering the previous nights' pain, today's outlook is already much brighter indeed.
So, unfogged by hydrocodone and muscle relaxers, I thought I'd take advantage of a clear brain to write a little before the rest of the house wakes up. And, actually, they already are awake--Bug and Grandma snuggled under covers in the office, talking and giggling, Tucker waiting patiently at the baby gate in the hall to be permitted into the little love party going on in the other room without him (how dare they!!)
I'm happily watching the snow accumulating outside. I confess I was disappointed when I awoke and was able to see the trees through the top of the bedroom garden window, it not being occluded by the snow I thought we would get overnight. I guess it was delayed a few hours as it's certainly coming down quite steadily out there now.
I have quite a bit on my plate to catch up on once again, especially after being indisposed for the better part of a week! Aside from the house being a hairy, dusty mess--which, I know! I'm not allowed to do anything about for another couple of weeks...But I'm trying to organize a regular outline for my blog; I did get a letter sent off to the prison ministry right before I went into the hospital and am waiting for my first inmate response; and I received my Child Ambassador package from World Vision with five beautiful little faces in need of sponsors and a deadline of the end of February to find said sponsors! I need to get on the ball! Easier said than done with my mom here 'helping', which also entails giving my time and attention that I would direct otherwise during the day...And! The best of the best, I got my first issue of Bible Study Magazine yesterday, which I've been so looking forward to--Ravi Zacharias is interviewed in this issue! I'm excited about new eyes into Scripture with this magazine!
But I know I have to take things slow and easy, even if I don't feel like I need any pain medication...I have follow up appointments with the neurosurgeon and my PCP, along with xrays and other tests to see how well I'm healing. I'd be much happier if swallowing didn't still hurt so much. All in time, all in time...At least I feel like I've got a foot back in the game today!
Today's the day...I woke up a little after one and the brain started racing with what lay ahead for the day. So I broke the doctor's orders and took a quick Ativan with a sip of water to help me get back to sleep for a few more hours anyway. Sitting here without coffee is the worst!! I hope someone will have a big hot cup of steaming sanity waiting for me when I get out of recovery--please!!
I got my pens and jammies yesterday. Everything is packed and ready to go....books, magazines, pens, tablet, notebooks, squishy socks, MP3 player, chargers, hubby's bathrobe (so I have something of him with me...) Phone and tablet are charged.
I just want to eat!!!
Thank you so much to everybody for your kind words of support and prayers--it really means a lot and has helped lift my spirits the past few days. If you don't hear anything for a few days, I left the laptop at home...still haven't decided...I could take my Harry movies....maybe....
I don't want to write today. There's so much jumbled up in my head facing the coming week, words all tripping, tangled. I will likely be taking a break for the next few days since I'm not sure if I'll bring the laptop with me to the hospital and I'd rather not try to blog on my tablet. Swype is fine for quick notes, not meandering paragraphs.
Surgery is at noon tomorrow. Bill flew home yesterday. Mom will arrive late tomorrow afternoon. I'm trying not to think about it, pushing it back out of the brain. Denial...
I want to shop. I used to be an emotional smoker. Squashing worries and anger and frustrations with cigarettes. Since I quit almost seven years ago, I waver between emotional eating and emotional shopping. Shopping is better than eating--at least it doesn't end up on your thighs. I want to shop. Buy pens and books and jammies for the hospital. Comfort in toys, things. Have you seen the commercial for Papermate's Ink Joy?? I need....I need....
I busy myself with packing, planning. Lists for home, lists for the hospital, rearranging my reading list, adding to the grocery list. Obsessing obscures worry.
Today will be errands and cleaning. Mess management to meet Mother approval. Super Bowl watching. Time snuggying with hubby, Bug, and puppies. Tomorrow will be here all too quickly.
The house is a wreck. I've been running here, there, and everywhere this week having some test or other done, and I've managed to keep up with most of the cleaning. But it's been damp out and the dogs have tracked in quite a bit of mud. So it looks dirty. And my mother is coming. To my muddy, dog hair covered house. I'll have to run the vacuum this weekend and whip out my Swiffer and take a coating of dust off the shiny things, swap out sheets, and wash comforters when I figure out who's sleeping where and when...
Sweet Pea is going to be my problem the next couple of weeks. She is a brat. Okay, I've made her into a brat by spoiling her rotten and catering to her every need and whimsy these past five years, never thinking it would turn around and bite me in the butt...but bite me it is...
Our morning routine when I wake up, the dogs all get up, let them out for pee ventures in the dark while I get the coffee brewing and organize my morning goodies: laptop, Bible, journal, coffee. Let the dogs back in, issue treats, vitamins, and chewies, and they all typically chomp away on their nummies in the livingroom before finding their way back to bed until the other folks in the house wake up several hours later. Ruby tucks her great white head back under my bed. Tuck is content either on the couch or he'll jump up on my bed, toss around the pillows and rearrange the blankets, possibly bury a chewie while he's in there for safe keeping. Pea, however demands assistance to be put back up in bed. She can quite easily jump on the futon in the office by herself, or on the couch or loveseat as well. Even so, knowing I am awake and available, she will park herself in the hallway, facing whichever room holds the bed she wants to sleep on, stomp her fat, bow-legged Basset paws, and whine until I come whisk her up and put her back to bed. No one else is allowed to touch her. She even runs from Bill when he's tried to help. Nope--Mama's job.
After my surgery on Monday, I won't be allowed to lift anything heavier than five or ten pounds, including a certain spoiled brat Basset...I can just imagine how well this is going to go over! I can't have her stomping her paw paws in the hall, waking up Grandma with her tantrums--I may just have to quarantine her to the livingroom where she'll have to content herself with the couch or loveseat for my time of incapacitation. The poor thing...how will she survive??
I want to say I'm not scared of today's appointment. I want to be bold and proclaim I know God's got my back. Not that I think for a second that He doesn't, but there's, if I'm really honest, that small part in my heart that asks if He did, why I am going through this? I'm human...I was a spoiled Daddy's girl growing up. And I am a spoiled wife by a loving, wonderful husband. But I have this precious little boy sleeping in the other room that is my life blood to love and protect from all harm and worry and I don't know what darkness waits for the two of us on the other side of this appointment today. I kinda hoped God would simply carry us easily, peacefully, through this move...I certainly didn't expect to bottom out upside down in this chasm along the way...
Maybe I'm being melodramatic, putting the panic cart ahead of the horse. But I don't know of any other circumstance, if there was nothing to be worried about, that they'd cram an appointment in between the surgeries of a neurosurgeon. Surgery days are for surgery. If it was nothing to worry about, my appointment could wait until he had office hours. Maybe cram me in between a couple other patients, but between surgeries? Come on--that's not normal.
Of course they won't tell you anything over the phone. Rushed in prescriptions that I had to start immediately. Then we have to swing by the hospital to pick up my films from the MRI and the report from the EEG, head to my doctor's office and get those records to bring along--I thought they faxed all this stuff or could send it over the computer?? When did patients become messenger services??
I am thankful they've postponed my TEE this morning so I can at least have my coffee and breakfast rather than starve and suffer through another caffeine deprived headache, and that I won't have anything slipped down my throat--today, anyway. I am VERY, very thankful for my friend, Missy, and my uncle who have graciously made time to take me to all these appointments and all my friends who are ushering words of encouragement and praying over me--I definitely couldn't do all of this without you guys!!
I found this quote from Stormie Omartian's Just Enough Light for the Step I'm On: "As you take one step at a time, holding God's hand and letting Him lead, He will get you where you need to go."
So, I'm taking one step at a time today...that's all I can do. And I'll let Him get me there, through His infinite grace and mercy. And I can still be scared....aren't we all scared of something? Just gotta keep hanging on...
The Spirit had put on my heart a few years ago to become involved with prison ministries. I wasn't so sure this was something I'd want to do. Prisoners? Sounded a little scary to me and I put it off, thinking this really wasn't for me. Surely God had other plans and I would happily follow whatever that might be. But that feeling remained and I was continually prompted to reach out.
I finally gave in and contacted a few different agencies over the past couple of years but never received any responses. Again and again I felt the Spirit weighing on me to keep trying and in December I contacted one more agency, the Cup of Water Ministries I had found online. They were looking for pen pals for prisoners, and this was right about the time I had begun in earnest my snail mail quest last year. So, maybe some of those letters and cards could go to a prisoner...I sent one more inquiry to Cup of Water. And heard nothing...
Until last week. I received an email from the ministry's president finally acknowledging my earlier request to tell me how to begin writing as one of their pen pals for prisoners. Last week. In the aftermath of all this seizure trauma and the resulting follow up tests and worries, the heartache of Bill leaving, and stress of starting to show the house. Life couldn't possibly be more hectic--this is when I'm supposed to begin writing. God's timing really astounds me at times...leaves me sitting here shaking my head. Really? Now?
So why get involved with a prison ministry? Because we are called to do so in the Bible. "Remember those who are in prison, as though in prison with them, and those who are mistreated, since you also are in the body." ~Hebrews 13:3. "For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’..."-Matthew 25:35-39
Don't we all deserve hope? Don't we all need encouragement? I am scared out of my wits right now, as so many prisoners are as well, I am sure. But at least I'm in the comfort of my home, surrounded with people I love and the freedom to come and go anywhere I want, whenever I want. All of us make mistakes. It's not up to us to judge but rather to offer hope, love, and to share Christ's peace. We are all forgiven in Jesus.
So I sent my first letter this morning. It's an email system so I can't really count it toward my snail mail goals. But personal address information is protected, mine and theirs. Email addresses are kept private as well. I'm interested to see where this will lead and look forward to sharing lives and hope with another friend in Christ.
Reading this morning's post on A Holy Experience about love and marriage made my heart swell. I have been through so many ridiculously bad relationships then God brought me Bill.
We are polar opposites. Him so bold, so unabashed--loud, out there, hungry for life. Me meek, quiet, longing to be invisible, happy to hide inside our comforting walls of home. People wonder how we ended up together...how we fit. All I know is how thankful I am that we do.
He would (and does) do anything for me. He lives to make me happy. He works so hard to let me stay home to be here for Michael. To write, to paint, to take care of our family, our fur and feathered babies. Always he encourages me. Even, and especially, when my own courage runs low. I know without the slightest doubt that he would never let me down.
How lucky am I? My soulmate...I love you!! Thank you for all that you are, all that you do...
Now his head's all gonna swell...look out! Miss you baby...
This morning is my sleep deprived EEG. Not only did I have to wake up at two (and stay awake...sooo tempting to pull up a pillow as I walk by one dog curled up on the couch and another stretched lengthwise across my bed--brats), I'm not allowed any coffee, either. At least I'm allowed to eat and I could have decaffeinated tea, but all I have is chamomile and I'm afraid that would only make me want to go back to bed all the more. Water it is...
Even better, I'm not to use any hair products like conditioner, mousse, gel or hair spray today. They want your scalp clean and oil free. Guess the electrodes stick better that way? So, sleep and caffeine deprived, and untamed crazy hair. Better keep a low profile if I go anywhere near the psych ward....could be looking like an escapee!
Tomorrow I'm not allowed to wear makeup to my MRI...?? Apparently there could be small traces of metal in the cosmetics that would disagree with the giant magnet swirling around my head. You can bet I'll be guzzling my coffee, though!
Friday, then, is my TEE, which I'm not allowed to eat or drink anything for six hours before the test, caffeinated or not, since they have to put me under for this three hour joy ride. Who signed me up for Torture Week? I'm not liking this at all...
I stared into the darkness as my heart pulled away, tears welling, falling silent, feeling afraid of what the days ahead hold in store, heavy. I know I am blessed. He works so hard, always striving to better himself to give us the best life he can. And I know this is just as hard for him to leave, to face forward not knowing what he is leaving us to bear in his absence. I say a prayer of thanks for where the Lord has placed me, so close to friends who will see us through. He strengthens me, reassures me--He will never leave me. He holds us all close in His arms, whispering peace into worried ears. I breathe deep, dry cheeks, close the door as his tail lights disappear.
Gifts of joy this week:
74-Friends arranging to help with coming appointments
75-Sweet, strong husband hugs holding tight
76-Fears opening eyes to so much love
77-God's perfect timing
78-Belting out Adele at the bus stop with Bug
79-Blinkie & Skye popping in to visit Brodie's cage
80-A caring doctor
81-Internet friends offering smiles
82-Peaceful, silent sleep
83-Advice for a sick bird
84-Bills paid, generous provisions
85-Free wifi at the medical center
86-Lunch with family at our favorite restaurant
87-My Dad--I love you and miss you
88-A walk on the treadmill after a week of fatigue
89-New beginnings
Before we moved back 'home' here in 2009, (I use the term home loosely since as much as we move, home seems to be wherever we end up...but 'home' in this instance is PA, where we're originally from) we lived in Tennessee for five years. Oliver Springs was a small rural town, probably not much bigger than where we lived in New Bremen, Ohio, but living down south is a whole different experience than it is living above the Mason Dixon line.
Aside from the devastating fact that you don't see much of snow in OS (my least favorite aspect of southern living), the next biggest difference is openness regarding faith and spirituality. You're in the heart of the Bible belt there and folks aren't shy talking about church down in Dixie.
Growing up, our family always went to church and Sunday school every week. We said prayers at dinner and bedtime, but apart from that, folks up north don't seem to be very vocal about their faith life. The adage about not talking about politics or religion is taken very seriously (though that seems to have changed regarding politics in past years with Bush, Clinton, and Obama bashing...always good to get one's blood boiling!) Still, Yankees are relatively hush-hush when it comes to church talk.
I am thankful for our five years in Tennessee for what it did to my faith life. We found ourselves immersed in a wonderful church home at Faith Lutheran Church in Oak Ridge--a very warm and welcoming congregation unlike anything I'd ever known up north. The greeters hugged everybody--all the more so if you were visiting! Hugged! I'm extremely introverted and shy (my husband agrees when I call myself socially retarded...) I'm not a very touchy feely person, especially when it comes to strangers, and that first experience rather shocked my nervous system....but in a good way. The members there talked to you as if you were family and so happy you had come home to visit, and truly encouraged you to stay. Things that make you go, "Hmmm..."
We stayed. Michael's Sunday school teacher taught kindergarten and was super great with the kids. She was also very cute and Michael immediately developed quite a crush on Ms. Jessica! The adult Sunday school classes (yes, plural--there were at least two or three to choose from) were brilliant. They also had several small groups going on every month and we settled into the family Bible study group that met once a month over dinner at church, then the kids would all head off to play or watch a movie, while us 'grown ups' would have study time. We developed some great friendships during those years as well as found ourselves grown closer to God.
After moving back home, I miss that openness of talking about church and faith. It took us a while to find a new church home, but eventually found our way to Trinity Lutheran. We immediately liked our pastor, and our Aaron's minister, and the traditional services. Michael went to Sunday school and Bill and I joined the weekly adult class, which is a great bunch of people. I think we gab more than we actually study sometimes, but what is faith without fellowship, right? I joined the women's Bible study group and I laugh because they treat me like a youngster...I look young for my age, but I'm not that much younger than some of the ladies! They're a sweet group and we always have good yummies to snack on--food is always a plus! Now I'm engaged in another Bible study group run by our Aarnon's minister which meets twice a month (more gabbing and fun!) but it's wonderful to be back among people who are open and willing to share their faith rather than zip lips and change topics quick.
God encourages us to keep company with others in faith. And I am thankful for my church families, here and in Tennessee (miss you guys!!) May we all be more bold, regardless of where we live, north or south, to share God's love and grace with each other and not be quiet or shy. Those dark days will come and we'll all need to know we are loved.
Fuzzy this morning. Up early, just past three. But I have this sleep deprived EEG coming up on Tuesday, so I thought it would be good practice to stay awake rather than lay back down and try to sleep more.
Listening to the rain, wishing it was snow, though it's peaceful, the patter on the skylights. Soothing. Curled around upside down, twisted Tucker, stretching strong, skinny legs, begging belly rubs, kissing whiskery chin. Ruby snuffling in her sleep half under the bed.
Hubby comes home today--our last weekend together before he goes north for good until the house sells. Always this house selling...the waiting...my heart some six hundred miles away. We've done this before, just not with this added twist of complications in the mix. Trying to reclaim the wind in my sails again...
God comforts me. Surrounds me with friends who encourage me, strengthen me. Holding me up when everything underneath me is falling, slipping, raining away....He has me. They catch me, carry me, help me bear this burden...I am humbled and grateful.
In the unknown of tomorrow, I am reminded of His plans, His provisions. My desktop calendar quotes Jeremiah 29:11. This morning's blog post at (In)Courage declares the same. The past few years God has drawn me ever closer knowing this time would come...that I would need Him to see me through and He reminds me once more I am His.
I don't know if this is from stress or perimenopausal or just another symptom of whatever is going on with me, but I've not been sleeping well at all lately. I head to bed around eight, light a vanilla spice tea light, read a little, play a little Words With Friends, squeeze in between Tucker and Sweet Pea, burrow under the covers, and off to la-la land...for a few hours.
Eleven o'clock rolls around and I'm awake and burning up. I don't want to open my eyes because I'm afraid of the clock. I don't want to see I've only been asleep a few hours and have the entire night yet ahead of me. I give in, force my eyes open. Evil clock angrily glaring a little past eleven back at me. I groan. I push down the covers and swap out pillows for one that feels cooler, try to turn over between the two dogs pinning my legs under blanket and comforter. I shut my eyes, offer up a prayer for some help to fall back to sleep, then toss and turn until finally drifting off again for another few hours.
Same thing happens all over again around two. Burning up once more and even angrier, I don't know if I'd be better to get up for a little while, or to just stay in bed. I look at my phone, maybe somebody left me a text in the middle of the night. Not usually. Everyone else is sleeping. The dogs are snoring. The heat comes on and blows raucously. I've given up my ear plugs since Bill is away, just in case Michael would need me during the night. Maybe that's part of it. Maybe the noise of the dogs snoring and the heat blowing is what's waking me up.
I resign myself to try to get back to sleep. Drink whatever remains in my water bottle from bedtime. Lay half covered, half uncovered, crookedly wrapped around and between the dogs-no wonder my back protests in the morning. Hoping the clock will read some time after four the next time I look upon it...I don't like this getting old business, not one bit.
Everything is calling me to 'be still' lately. Bible studies, blogs, devotionals, life-in general-calling me to stop, just stop. Enough so that I am trying to be still. I created my peace retreat, though, I have to confess I've yet to really retreat. It's pretty. And that candle smells oh so good. I pop in for a prayer. I scribble a few lines in the journal. I've not really stopped to linger. There's so much going on...I feel restless if I slow down for just a minute, let alone five--who has five minutes??
Just writing this post, I had to get up and drain the chicken stock I've had simmering on the stove all afternoon, then toss on a pair of jeans before it's time for me to head to the bus stop to pick up Michael. From there I have to run back to the doctor's office to pick up the paperwork for the slew of tests they want me to have done to begin testing for MS, then head over to have a chest X-ray and blood drawn before my appointment with the neurologist tomorrow morning. Then it'll be home and homework and dinner and bathtime, then finally, exhausted, dropping into bed. Then I'll be still. I won't be concious, but I'll be still...
So, so thankful God has a sense of humor....
But God is certainly telling me to make Him a greater priority in my day and in my life. I'm trying. I've started praying at set times throughout the day--even though I've had to set my alarm to remind me! At nine, noon, and six my phone goes off and I kneel down in my little retreat space and offer up a few words of gratitude and praise. Today's been sprinkled with a few tears looking ahead at the coming week, praying for strength to see us through. And I know He will...He always does. He gives me words of encouragement and reminds me of all the times He's carried me in the past, He won't leave me now.
I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot slip—
He who watches over you will not slumber;
indeed, He who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
The LORD watches over you—
the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.
The LORD will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;
the LORD will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.
I haven't talked to my brother in almost a year and a half. After he made some pretty poor personal decisions that have gravely affected his family, his children...scarring deep. I tried talking to him then, to make him see what he was doing wrong, how he was hurting those around him, but he refused to hear. He's always had all the answers and he's never, never wrong. So we've simply shut each other out of our lives. He'd gone his way, I went mine.
In that time I've raged angry, judging him, condemning. And at other times, calmer times, I've notioned that I've not lived the perfect life. I've made some pretty poor personal decisions in my forty-four years. And I'd been pretty stubborn when others tried to steer me back in the right direction. Had to crash pretty hard before picking up scattered, shattered pieces, put myself back together. Thought I knew it all, too. Oh, how little I knew....
So, I thought maybe I should try to reconcile before we all head to New England. I don't know, at least talk it out. But I don't have his number anymore and he no longer has mine. I can't message him on Facebook because he has me blocked. I sent a message to his girlfriend and got back a less than welcoming response. Bitter pills we have to swallow.
I found an old bookmark the other day that has 1 Corinthians 13: 4-6 on it: Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It keeps no record of wrongs...Oh, but I do. Tally 'em up tall and high. And I hold on tight. Justified. I thought I was in the right, not forgiving because the wrong wasn't done against me, it was done against his family, against God. I didn't have to forgive him. He has others to answer to when that time comes calling.
Still, are we not called to love others as God loves us?
"So now I am giving you a new commandment: Love each other. Just as I have loved you, you should love each other". ~John 13:34
God loves me in spite of my mistakes and bad decisions, and I certainly haven't come up all sparkly, shiny, and perfect all of a sudden. I've got my share of ugliness still happening--working on it, but have a long way to go...
Whether he decides to talk to me or not, I tried. I am offering love. As I am loved.
How do your find your way back to normal once normal's beat a hasty retreat out the back door? I really need to know. I made an appointment with the neurologist for next Monday, the soonest they could get me in unless the doctor looks at my chart and thinks I need to be seen sooner. So I'm waiting...hoping for a cancellation so I can get some answers a little quicker...
Meanwhile, the world seems to have slid off kilter. I don't feel like me. Maybe that's the Ativan. It's almost like an outer body sensation...I'm going through the motions but I don't feel attached to the activity. And my short term memory seems to have taken a vacation without me (rather rude, I think...) I tucked a few 'valuables' away before our showing Sunday, then for the life of me, I had zero recollection of where I had stashed everything! Michael wanted his PSP but I couldn't remember where I'd put it, along with my digital camera. I knew I'd tucked my Kindle in the nightstand--for some reason that stayed with me, but we ran frantic all around the house that night trying to find the missing electronics! Finally I discovered them safely stashed with my Kindle--why I didn't look there in the first place is beyond me--I truly thought I had put his PSP in his room...
Yesterday morning it was my MP3 player that evaded me. Spent a good half hour digging upstairs and downstairs, emptying purses, rummaging through drawers--no, that hadn't made it to the safety of the nightstand...Drove me bananas as my pressure went up trying to recall where I'd put it. Now, when I'd run, I kept it in my dresser with my pepper spray, whistle, and phone case--but I haven't run outside in months. I decided to take a look anyway...and there it sat, tucked away with my new matching earbuds I'd gotten for Christmas. I wanted to listen to Adele...something to calm me down.
Bill flew off yesterday morning to Long Island for the week, and this coming weekend will be the last that he'll be home until we get the house sold. However long that might take...He's feeling guilty for leaving and I'm feeling guilty for making him feel guilty--he shouldn't have to worry about us here at home. There's no reason I shouldn't be able to take care of Michael and the house, the birds and the dogs, and life be smooth sailing--for the most part, there's always a road bump or two, but not a head on collision like this. I just want to wake up, shake it off, whip on my running shoes and hit the road for a few good miles, and life be back to normal. Where did that go?? How did I lose that?
Then Michael and I had to have a fight before he got on the bus to school...as if the stress of moving isn't enough for him, now he's got a mom freaking out with seizures to wig him out even more. Yet somehow I expect him to get his act together and try to make this whole situation a little easier on us--no pressure for a ten year old, right??
I probably should've posted this before my mention of the Newfie yesterday...I've been trying to write some posts ahead of time during the birds' playtime (two birds, one stone...) Hoping to free up more of my morning since exercising has been taking a backseat to blogging...So this was a post I'd written the other afternoon and might help make some sense of my 'purse puppy' comment in yesterday's post. Bear with me folks, I'm having brain issues this week *wink, wink*....
I love dogs. Big, small, hairy, fluffy, even nekkid dogs--though they feel really weird to pet…yick! I keep saying I want a little dog, a teeny, tiny pop in your purse and go shopping kinda dog, that I can buy all sorts of cute little outfits for and play dress up…Take to the groomer’s and have cute hairdo’s done and nails painted…Buy little bitty furniture for and fuss and coo over my itty baby puppy.
I saw this video posted on Facebook the other day and fell in LOVE!! I want a cute little pool playing Chihuahua!! How adorable is this guy?? The noises he makes and his precious prancing across the table! I could just eat him up!!
But somehow I keep getting bigger and bigger dogs…Dogs that barely fit in the car, forget your purse!! Haha! But big dogs are pretty cool. I like a dog that I can lay my head down on and wrap my arms around him and know I’m not gonna squish the poor thing. I feel safe, especially with Bill being away, having dogs that can protect Michael and I and be more threatening than maybe nipping an ankle. Pool puppy up there? Yeah…not gonna intimidate many burglars. Tucker and Ruby? Folks would definitely think twice before inviting themselves in to our house after seeing those two! Pea--she’s about as much threat as the pool puppy, but she’s really good for cuddling and smells like Fritos when she’s happy--who doesn’t love Fritos??
Maybe someday I will get my little dog. Miniature Bull Terriers are pretty awesome…but not really purse puppies. I seriously want a purse puppy, like a Maltese--are they not the cutest things EVER??? All white silky fur and big brown eyeballs--adorable!!! Someday…when we get settled in New England…then I can shop for my pretty little purse puppy…
