The atmosphere at the hospital today was much more sober than yesterday. As they prepared Amanda for surgery this morning, she had a bad coughing spell. She arched her back and came up off the bed, then coughed so hard that she couldn't get her breath and turned blue. Her mother was present during all this and was really frightened. She also was exhibiting a great deal of pain which was hard for her mother and father to witness.
We were warned this would be a roller-coaster ride, and today was one of the down days. She came out of surgery fine and it only lasted two hours. But they have determined that her lung was filled with mucous again and tried to clean it out during surgery, unsuccessfully. Later today, they performed the procedure in the ICU unit.
They surgically implanted a feeding tube, changing the location from the original plan due to the amount of intestine (139 centimeters worth) that they have removed. They are concerned for the long term that she will not have enough small intestines to remove all the vitamins and nutrients from her food, but that's an issue to deal with later.
They also removed her packing and discovered that she was still "oozing" (we're not sure what that means - if it's another word for bleeding or not), but they were able to locate the source and sewed it up. They put the Wound Vac, a system with sponges that absorb moisture and a vacuum that sucks out any moisture along with infection, back in place and left her open once again. The orthopedic surgeon who consulted decided that her pelvic reconstruction is too extensive to be tackled by anyone other than a pelvic trauma orthopedic specialist. From what we've been told, there are only two in the southeastern U.S. - one in Columbia, and the other on his way to this hospital. The day of the accident, they talked about airvacing Amanda to the hospital in Columbia to be treated by the expert there, but that's never materialized. There's still talk about that being a possibility in the future.
My sister asked the trauma doctor if that might happen. He responded that Amanda's in no condition to worry about her pelvis just yet and that, if they even tried to helicopter her out now, she'd die. He said she would never survive the transfer, that she's "very, very critical". Her mother was concerned about that lung that keeps collecting mucous and asked about the possibility of pneumonia. The trauma doc said that she may very possibly get pneumonia because she can't move, but that they're prepared for that. My sister got shook and said that lots of people die in the hospital from pneumonia. He responded, "We don't know for sure that she will get pneumonia. If she does, I can't promise that she'll live through it. But when people die of pneumonia, they're usually elderly and have other health issues. She's young and can fight."
After being told yesterday that she's no longer on the critical list because of her injuries, but because of the tubing and apparatus attached to her, I was surprised by a lot of this information. I asked my sister about her take. She paused for a minute, then said, "I think they were just trying to give us hope yesterday."
We knew that this would be a long road, but we really had a bit of false hope yesterday that we were somewhat out of the woods. Those hopes were quickly dashed today. They are still just trying to keep Amanda alive.
If we focus on all the progress, perhaps we can keep from being discouraged, but it makes for a very hard day when you get the news we got today and you watch our precious girl struggle. We have four specific needs for prayer today.
They are: 1. for her lungs to be protected, for no pneumonia, for the one that keeps collecting mucous to be miraculously free of mucous - in general, pray for protection of her lungs; 2. for her fever to go down and stay down - it's up and down like a yo-yo, first due to the trauma, now due to the problem in her lung - she needs to stay free of infection which will elevate her temp and free of any other reasons for fever; 3. for her to not experience pain - it's so hard to watch her, so frail right now, and struggling with pain, she'll have lots of pain to deal with in the future, she needs a break right now; 4. for grace for the family to not look down the road, to only deal with today's challenges today, to trust God that He is planning for the future so they don't have to.
And pray that we can all hang in there for the long haul - my sister and her family, my parents, my family, and my other sister and her family. Over time, traumas like this tend to be forgotten and people intercede for it less often. We will need heavy intercession for a few more weeks as we struggle to support these needs.
God bless. Have a good night. And go hug your children, kiss them, and think about my sister who can't kiss or hug her child who so desperately needs it.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Fiesty!
Amanda is holding her own. It appeared that her lung had collapsed again today but the doctors, after much reviewing of the situation, decided that it might not be what it appeared and to give it more time before attempting a very invasive procedure.
A close family friend, whose away at college, came to visit today. He was the childhood best friend of Amanda's younger brother and practically lived at their house, harassing Amanda something terrible. She and Lance fought way more than Amanda and her own brother.
My sister took Lance into Amanda's room and spoke to her.
"Honey, I brought a special visitor. Look who's here - Lance has come to visit you."
Amanda jerked her eyes opened, looked at Lance and seemed to smile. He spoke to her, then Trina added,
"Lance needs to know if you want him to give you a hard time."
Amanda vehemently shook her head. Up till this point, she has only nodded. For a girl who's supposed to be deeply under (some drug-induced coma), she sure is frisky.
She goes into surgery at 7:30 a.m. Thursday. They will remove the packing and check to see how she's healing. They plan to implant a feeding tube and have two spine specialists and an orthopedic surgeon scrub in to review her situation in preparation for the initial plans to reconstruct her pelvis - with titanium.
My sister was in a much better mood this evening. She was explaining about the titanium to me and commented that we're going to have a bionic woman on our hands. "Like Superwoman!" I added. "Perhaps they could make her titanium wristbands for deflecting bullets."
The doctors explained to my sister that she is no longer critical due to her injuries, but now it's due to the amount of tubes and monitors they have attached to her. They say the biggest risk to her health now is infection. We HAVE to be very careful to not impede her progress by spreading any germs. She's just not able to fight it off very hard.
The most immediate concern is that she's spiked a fever again. And, of course, she needs prayer for the surgery tomorrow.
In closing, my sister told me (with a sparkle in her eye) that she had some news. She was able to talk to one of the doctors on the team that's taking care of Amanda and was told that Amanda's fighting the ventilator. She's insisting on breathing on her own and won't relax and let the ventilator work. She's a fighter.
Apparently, the doctor also referred to her as "a monkey" and said that the last time they went in to reinflate her lung, she bit the camera. She must not have liked having that tube down her throat and was communicating her feelings loud and clear.
She may be a VERY sick young woman still, but she sure is fiesty! Go, Amanda, go! Give those doctors a good run for their money.
A close family friend, whose away at college, came to visit today. He was the childhood best friend of Amanda's younger brother and practically lived at their house, harassing Amanda something terrible. She and Lance fought way more than Amanda and her own brother.
My sister took Lance into Amanda's room and spoke to her.
"Honey, I brought a special visitor. Look who's here - Lance has come to visit you."
Amanda jerked her eyes opened, looked at Lance and seemed to smile. He spoke to her, then Trina added,
"Lance needs to know if you want him to give you a hard time."
Amanda vehemently shook her head. Up till this point, she has only nodded. For a girl who's supposed to be deeply under (some drug-induced coma), she sure is frisky.
She goes into surgery at 7:30 a.m. Thursday. They will remove the packing and check to see how she's healing. They plan to implant a feeding tube and have two spine specialists and an orthopedic surgeon scrub in to review her situation in preparation for the initial plans to reconstruct her pelvis - with titanium.
My sister was in a much better mood this evening. She was explaining about the titanium to me and commented that we're going to have a bionic woman on our hands. "Like Superwoman!" I added. "Perhaps they could make her titanium wristbands for deflecting bullets."
The doctors explained to my sister that she is no longer critical due to her injuries, but now it's due to the amount of tubes and monitors they have attached to her. They say the biggest risk to her health now is infection. We HAVE to be very careful to not impede her progress by spreading any germs. She's just not able to fight it off very hard.
The most immediate concern is that she's spiked a fever again. And, of course, she needs prayer for the surgery tomorrow.
In closing, my sister told me (with a sparkle in her eye) that she had some news. She was able to talk to one of the doctors on the team that's taking care of Amanda and was told that Amanda's fighting the ventilator. She's insisting on breathing on her own and won't relax and let the ventilator work. She's a fighter.
Apparently, the doctor also referred to her as "a monkey" and said that the last time they went in to reinflate her lung, she bit the camera. She must not have liked having that tube down her throat and was communicating her feelings loud and clear.
She may be a VERY sick young woman still, but she sure is fiesty! Go, Amanda, go! Give those doctors a good run for their money.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Last Night's Surgery
Amanda came out of surgery at about 10:00 last night. The doctors met with my sister and brother-in-law to explain the status.
Her fever is down to 98.2 (at least, it was after surgery). Her heartrate was down to 116. Although the doctors preferred to see a heartrate under 100, they were willing to settle for 120. 116 is VERY acceptable.
They found NO infection inside her. They now believe her temp was elevated just because of the trauma to her body. She was still oozing inside, so they removed her packing and repacked her innards. They reconnected her intestines and said things are beginning to heal up and look better. They thoroughly cleaned her intestines and abdominal cavity. They've left her open again and plan to take her back into surgery on Thursday (tentatively) to remove this packing and check on her progress. They hope to take an Orthopedic Surgeon with them into surgery, not to work on her pelvis at this time, but to get some idea how he is going to proceed in the future so they can begin to formulate a plan for repairing her pelvis. Her swelling is even beginning to go down. Her hands are noticeably less swollen. This was all very good news.
The challenges - one of the doctors talked with my sister and mother yesterday, trying to prepare them a little for what lies ahead. He explained that in severe trauma cases, like this one, you make a little headway, then encounter problems. We will never reach a point where it's a straight line of improvement. She'll go forward a little, then get knocked back a little as another challenge presents itself. We need to be prepared so the new problems don't throw us for a loop. At this point, we don't even know when they'll take her off the ventilator and begin to bring her out of the coma. Certainly not before Thursday.
The other question I have is about sewing her up. After her initial surgery on Saturday, her tissues were too swollen to sew her interior back up. Plus, there was no reason to reconnect her muscles and tendons only to have to cut through them again for the next surgery. They put clamps on her skin to pull it across her body, but everything inside was still open. Obviously, they won't be able to close her up while the packing is in her. The question seems to be if they can close her up with so many pelvic surgeries pending and, if they leave her open, how long is that safe and does she have to stay in ICU the whole time? Her father seems to think they'll start slowly closing up parts, starting at the top (chest) and closing down a little more with each subsequent surgery. He thinks they may leave the pelvic region open, but that seems a little improbable to me.
In any case, this will be a VERY long process, with many surgeries, joys, and discouragements along this road. My sister just wants her to open her eyes, look at her, and say, "I love you, Mama." But we don't even know when she'll be able to talk - could be a very long time.
Pray for our relationships - we're all stressed and I spoke inappropriately to one of my sisters yesterday, upsetting everyone. When you throw 4 strong-willed people together (my mother, myself, and my two sisters that live here) in a 3' X 3' square under unimaginable stress for 3 solid days, things are bound to happen. But I want to behave and we all NEED to behave, for the sake of my sister, the mother of the child walking through this terrible ordeal. So pray that ALL of us can be charitable and choose to not take offense. This is about Amanda, not us.
And pray for my sweet baby whose body is so damaged. She needs a huge portion of grace and strength to deal with what's ahead for her. Her mother and father need even a greater portion of grace.
My sister got to take a shower in an empty patient room at the hospital last night and fell in the shower. She hasn't slept since Friday night when she was awoken at 4 a.m. by the call about the accident. She's exhausted and dealing with her own health issues. She's GOT to get some rest. She does seem to be eating a little - many friends have brought food and snacks up to the hospital and that has been very helpful.
So, we hold on and continue to pray - knowing God will bring healing but, also, that he expects us to ask and ask often.
Join us in the asking.
Her fever is down to 98.2 (at least, it was after surgery). Her heartrate was down to 116. Although the doctors preferred to see a heartrate under 100, they were willing to settle for 120. 116 is VERY acceptable.
They found NO infection inside her. They now believe her temp was elevated just because of the trauma to her body. She was still oozing inside, so they removed her packing and repacked her innards. They reconnected her intestines and said things are beginning to heal up and look better. They thoroughly cleaned her intestines and abdominal cavity. They've left her open again and plan to take her back into surgery on Thursday (tentatively) to remove this packing and check on her progress. They hope to take an Orthopedic Surgeon with them into surgery, not to work on her pelvis at this time, but to get some idea how he is going to proceed in the future so they can begin to formulate a plan for repairing her pelvis. Her swelling is even beginning to go down. Her hands are noticeably less swollen. This was all very good news.
The challenges - one of the doctors talked with my sister and mother yesterday, trying to prepare them a little for what lies ahead. He explained that in severe trauma cases, like this one, you make a little headway, then encounter problems. We will never reach a point where it's a straight line of improvement. She'll go forward a little, then get knocked back a little as another challenge presents itself. We need to be prepared so the new problems don't throw us for a loop. At this point, we don't even know when they'll take her off the ventilator and begin to bring her out of the coma. Certainly not before Thursday.
The other question I have is about sewing her up. After her initial surgery on Saturday, her tissues were too swollen to sew her interior back up. Plus, there was no reason to reconnect her muscles and tendons only to have to cut through them again for the next surgery. They put clamps on her skin to pull it across her body, but everything inside was still open. Obviously, they won't be able to close her up while the packing is in her. The question seems to be if they can close her up with so many pelvic surgeries pending and, if they leave her open, how long is that safe and does she have to stay in ICU the whole time? Her father seems to think they'll start slowly closing up parts, starting at the top (chest) and closing down a little more with each subsequent surgery. He thinks they may leave the pelvic region open, but that seems a little improbable to me.
In any case, this will be a VERY long process, with many surgeries, joys, and discouragements along this road. My sister just wants her to open her eyes, look at her, and say, "I love you, Mama." But we don't even know when she'll be able to talk - could be a very long time.
Pray for our relationships - we're all stressed and I spoke inappropriately to one of my sisters yesterday, upsetting everyone. When you throw 4 strong-willed people together (my mother, myself, and my two sisters that live here) in a 3' X 3' square under unimaginable stress for 3 solid days, things are bound to happen. But I want to behave and we all NEED to behave, for the sake of my sister, the mother of the child walking through this terrible ordeal. So pray that ALL of us can be charitable and choose to not take offense. This is about Amanda, not us.
And pray for my sweet baby whose body is so damaged. She needs a huge portion of grace and strength to deal with what's ahead for her. Her mother and father need even a greater portion of grace.
My sister got to take a shower in an empty patient room at the hospital last night and fell in the shower. She hasn't slept since Friday night when she was awoken at 4 a.m. by the call about the accident. She's exhausted and dealing with her own health issues. She's GOT to get some rest. She does seem to be eating a little - many friends have brought food and snacks up to the hospital and that has been very helpful.
So, we hold on and continue to pray - knowing God will bring healing but, also, that he expects us to ask and ask often.
Join us in the asking.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Just a Quick Update
Between 1 and 1:30 a.m. Saturday, my 24-yr. old niece, Amanda (who shares her birthday with me), was coming home from a date. Her boyfriend was driving when a deer ran out in front of them. He swerved to miss the deer and, somehow, Amanda was thrown from the truck.
She's in the Trauma Unit at the Medical College. She has no brain or spinal cord injury, but that's the only good news. Her pelvis was crushed from the front, then opened up like a book. Her bladder was cut in half. Her lungs are bruised and a portion of one has collapsed twice now. There is nothing separating her abdominal cavity from her pelvic cavity and some of her intestines dropped out of her body and had to be removed. When the orthopedic surgeons got into the O.R. (she was in surgery for 7 1/2 hours), they found twigs, leaves and dirt inside her abdomen. She is in very critical condition.
This will be a very long recovery, most likely a year in length. They are keeping her in a drug-induced coma for the time being as they work on the more critical injuries. I just got word from my sister that they're taking her back into surgery right now (6:30 p.m. EST) because the level of fever she now has indicates a good amount of infection and they need to open her back up, irrigate her insides and try to get rid of all the infection.
I guess it's stating the obvious to ask for prayer, but first AND last, that's what needs to happen. She's a fighter and we have a world-class facility and physicians working on her.
Please pray specifically for the fever to abate, for an end to infection, and for the surgery to go well. Her heartrate also needs to drop dramatically from the 140 she now is sustaining to below 100.
It goes without saying that her family needs prayer, as well. Her mother has been ill for 4 months and is very weak. She's handling this well, but she needs grace and support, sleep and rest.
I'll post more as I'm able. Trying to spend as much time as possible at the hospital and still meet my family's needs, so Posts may be few and far between.
God bless you.
She's in the Trauma Unit at the Medical College. She has no brain or spinal cord injury, but that's the only good news. Her pelvis was crushed from the front, then opened up like a book. Her bladder was cut in half. Her lungs are bruised and a portion of one has collapsed twice now. There is nothing separating her abdominal cavity from her pelvic cavity and some of her intestines dropped out of her body and had to be removed. When the orthopedic surgeons got into the O.R. (she was in surgery for 7 1/2 hours), they found twigs, leaves and dirt inside her abdomen. She is in very critical condition.
This will be a very long recovery, most likely a year in length. They are keeping her in a drug-induced coma for the time being as they work on the more critical injuries. I just got word from my sister that they're taking her back into surgery right now (6:30 p.m. EST) because the level of fever she now has indicates a good amount of infection and they need to open her back up, irrigate her insides and try to get rid of all the infection.
I guess it's stating the obvious to ask for prayer, but first AND last, that's what needs to happen. She's a fighter and we have a world-class facility and physicians working on her.
Please pray specifically for the fever to abate, for an end to infection, and for the surgery to go well. Her heartrate also needs to drop dramatically from the 140 she now is sustaining to below 100.
It goes without saying that her family needs prayer, as well. Her mother has been ill for 4 months and is very weak. She's handling this well, but she needs grace and support, sleep and rest.
I'll post more as I'm able. Trying to spend as much time as possible at the hospital and still meet my family's needs, so Posts may be few and far between.
God bless you.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Non-hereditary
One of the coaches who also happens to be the Middle School Principal at my children's school started an Elementary Basketball League. Last winter, he started a boys' league. This year he added girls.
Both Deanna and Dane play. Practices are after school one day a week and games are usually on Saturday morning. Tomorrow, however, there's scheduling conflicts so this week's games were tonight.
I sat in the stands and cheered for both teams, yelling congratulations for good guarding, stealing the ball, and basket attempts and providing lots of encouragement. At one point, Deanna shot from the far side of the basket, a really long shot, and sunk it. I screamed. All the other parents turned and looked at me. The Mom sitting next to me elbowed me gently as if to say, "That's your girl!" I hollered to Deanna and continued to root long after the other parents had finished recognizing the great shot.
Later, as I thought about the response of the other parents, I snickered. There wasn't a one of us present that didn't understand the pride we all take in our children. We congratulate each other whenever one of our children does well. But, truthfully, Deanna hasn't learned any basketball skill from me. I never played basketball. It was the one sport I avoided. I couldn't stand the noise reverberating off the walls and ceiling. Even as a child, it was just too much for me. I could kick a football further than any boy I knew (many asked me to teach them the tricks of the trade) and I was a great softball player. I played tennis, badminton, soccer, volleyball . . . almost any sport, but NO basketball. Periodically, I played a rousing game of H.O.R.S.E. or P.I.G. with my brother, seven years my senior, which could be done outside, and I was a pretty good shot, but I never learned to dribble and was a traveling expert. So I take no credit for Deanna's ability on the court. Anything she knows she's come by naturally. She actually is fairly good - way better than I have reason to expect. But it wasn't inherited.
I'll continue to act like I passed along some amazing basketball gene to my daughter and whoop and holler at every good move on her part but, secretly, I know it's an ability she's developed completely on her own. God forbid the other parents stop congratulating me.
Both Deanna and Dane play. Practices are after school one day a week and games are usually on Saturday morning. Tomorrow, however, there's scheduling conflicts so this week's games were tonight.
I sat in the stands and cheered for both teams, yelling congratulations for good guarding, stealing the ball, and basket attempts and providing lots of encouragement. At one point, Deanna shot from the far side of the basket, a really long shot, and sunk it. I screamed. All the other parents turned and looked at me. The Mom sitting next to me elbowed me gently as if to say, "That's your girl!" I hollered to Deanna and continued to root long after the other parents had finished recognizing the great shot.
Later, as I thought about the response of the other parents, I snickered. There wasn't a one of us present that didn't understand the pride we all take in our children. We congratulate each other whenever one of our children does well. But, truthfully, Deanna hasn't learned any basketball skill from me. I never played basketball. It was the one sport I avoided. I couldn't stand the noise reverberating off the walls and ceiling. Even as a child, it was just too much for me. I could kick a football further than any boy I knew (many asked me to teach them the tricks of the trade) and I was a great softball player. I played tennis, badminton, soccer, volleyball . . . almost any sport, but NO basketball. Periodically, I played a rousing game of H.O.R.S.E. or P.I.G. with my brother, seven years my senior, which could be done outside, and I was a pretty good shot, but I never learned to dribble and was a traveling expert. So I take no credit for Deanna's ability on the court. Anything she knows she's come by naturally. She actually is fairly good - way better than I have reason to expect. But it wasn't inherited.
I'll continue to act like I passed along some amazing basketball gene to my daughter and whoop and holler at every good move on her part but, secretly, I know it's an ability she's developed completely on her own. God forbid the other parents stop congratulating me.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Maturing
James Dobson has a program that he encourages parents to do with their 11 through 13 year old children. It's called "Preparing for Adolescence" and it involves the same sex parent taking the child off, preferrably for a weekend, and reading through (or listening to the CD's) a book about what will be happening to them over the next 5 to 8 years. The purpose is to open channels of communication between daughters and their mothers or fathers and their sons while preparing your child for the hardest season their will ever tackle. He recommends doing a chapter in the book, then reviewing the discussion questions in the accompanying workbook, then breaking and doing some fun activity together. Later, the next chapter in the book should be tackled in the same way - work, then play. During the playtime, children often feel much less threatened and will ask more questions as they ponder what they've just heard and discussed.
Don and I bought the materials from Focus on the Family when we visited there this past summer. Deanna and I are planning a weekend trip in March for our "Retreat". In preparation for our time together, I've been reading the book. Last night, I started the chapter "What's Happening to my Body?" Since the material can be used with either sex child and Dobson believes that girls need to better understand the challenges boys face during this time in their lives and boys need to have the same understanding about girls, there are sections on the changes both sexes with experience. He addresses boys first.
I read about how their voices will begin to deepen, their strength and agility will greatly increase, and their bodies will begin to look less child-like and more manly. I've watched as Deanna's body has metamorphoused from a darling, chubby little girl into a beautiful young woman with a very curvaceous figure. That transition has already occurred. But I hadn't given any thought at all to the boys. Reading the book reminded me that they'll experience a change, as well, and I'd better be prepared.
Dane had his 8-yr. old check-up with his Pediatrician today. As he laid on the table, the doctor laughed.
"Patti," he commented to me, "look at how tall he's gotten!" Sure enough, Dane was almost as long as the treatment table. He's been fairly healthy the last couple of years and we haven't needed to take him to Dr. Miller too much, so it was a shock to both of us to see how much he's grown. Dr. Miller had him remove his shirt and walk across the room, checking his gait. I was struck by the sweetness of this little boy's body. He's chubby (although really quite thin - it's just that childish rounding) and just looks like a little boy still. I told Dr. Miller about our plans to take Deanna away and work through the Workbook with her. He was very pleased that she and I were doing that.
"Won't be long before Don will need to schedule a weekend with him and Dane," he said. It's true. I hadn't thought about that until last night, but it will be here before we realize. Dane will begin to change and mature, he'll be less open with Mama and not want anyone in the bathroom while he's in there. His body will lose its roundness and his muscles will become more obvious. This season of childhood is SO SHORT!
Somehow, realizing that the boys will someday grow up hit me very hard. For Deanna, it was an adventure - my only girl, my precious daughter, someone to share everything with. One day, I'll be there as she labors to birth my grandchildren. Puberty for Deanna was an exciting time. I can't say I feel that way about the boys. It seems to me that puberty for boys drags them away from their mothers, not towards them, like girls.
This is something I need to commit to prayer. It's probably the Lord bringing this up now to prepare me for the eventuality. And I sure know I need some preparation time.
I'm going to watch my nephews real closely as my sweet James prepares for his wedding in April. Maybe I can glean some hope from that as I recognize where my sons will one day be.
But, for now, I'll cherish the little boys and the sweetness that stills rests between us. These are days I never want to forget.
Don and I bought the materials from Focus on the Family when we visited there this past summer. Deanna and I are planning a weekend trip in March for our "Retreat". In preparation for our time together, I've been reading the book. Last night, I started the chapter "What's Happening to my Body?" Since the material can be used with either sex child and Dobson believes that girls need to better understand the challenges boys face during this time in their lives and boys need to have the same understanding about girls, there are sections on the changes both sexes with experience. He addresses boys first.
I read about how their voices will begin to deepen, their strength and agility will greatly increase, and their bodies will begin to look less child-like and more manly. I've watched as Deanna's body has metamorphoused from a darling, chubby little girl into a beautiful young woman with a very curvaceous figure. That transition has already occurred. But I hadn't given any thought at all to the boys. Reading the book reminded me that they'll experience a change, as well, and I'd better be prepared.
Dane had his 8-yr. old check-up with his Pediatrician today. As he laid on the table, the doctor laughed.
"Patti," he commented to me, "look at how tall he's gotten!" Sure enough, Dane was almost as long as the treatment table. He's been fairly healthy the last couple of years and we haven't needed to take him to Dr. Miller too much, so it was a shock to both of us to see how much he's grown. Dr. Miller had him remove his shirt and walk across the room, checking his gait. I was struck by the sweetness of this little boy's body. He's chubby (although really quite thin - it's just that childish rounding) and just looks like a little boy still. I told Dr. Miller about our plans to take Deanna away and work through the Workbook with her. He was very pleased that she and I were doing that.
"Won't be long before Don will need to schedule a weekend with him and Dane," he said. It's true. I hadn't thought about that until last night, but it will be here before we realize. Dane will begin to change and mature, he'll be less open with Mama and not want anyone in the bathroom while he's in there. His body will lose its roundness and his muscles will become more obvious. This season of childhood is SO SHORT!
Somehow, realizing that the boys will someday grow up hit me very hard. For Deanna, it was an adventure - my only girl, my precious daughter, someone to share everything with. One day, I'll be there as she labors to birth my grandchildren. Puberty for Deanna was an exciting time. I can't say I feel that way about the boys. It seems to me that puberty for boys drags them away from their mothers, not towards them, like girls.
This is something I need to commit to prayer. It's probably the Lord bringing this up now to prepare me for the eventuality. And I sure know I need some preparation time.
I'm going to watch my nephews real closely as my sweet James prepares for his wedding in April. Maybe I can glean some hope from that as I recognize where my sons will one day be.
But, for now, I'll cherish the little boys and the sweetness that stills rests between us. These are days I never want to forget.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Roof Pecans Taste Better
On the way home from Deanna's Little Sister's meeting this afternoon, we stopped at Grandma and Grandpa's house to pick up Daelyn. As we pulled into the driveway, I noticed Grandpa on the roof. Don's extension ladder was leaning against the front of the house. Grandma was standing at the bottom of the ladder and I realized my father was PICKING PECANS OFF THE TOP OF THE HOUSE.
Now, some people may think I'm a little fanatical about pecan picking . . . but I have yet to climb up on top of anyone's house to pick the pecans that have fallen there. I rolled down the window and hollered some pithy remark to my father, then yelled to Daelyn, who was climbing a tree in the front yard, to hop into the van since we needed to hurry home and eat so I could get them to church on time for choir.
Daelyn hopped in, then I remembered that I still needed to pick up Dane. He was a few houses up from where Deanna's meeting had been held and I should have swung by there on the way home. We took off back up the road, got my other son, then headed home again. As we approached my parents' once more, I could see the arm of a dark jacket on the roof. I was sure it wasn't my father's arm, since he had on a red flannel shirt. As we got closer, I could see that the man on the roof had dark hair and a mustache. This was certainly NOT my father. Then the humor of the situation struck me. Not only was Papa picking pecans on his roof, he had invited a guest to join him.
I giggled. Deanna heard me and asked what was so funny.
"Grandpa's holding a prayer meeting on the roof," I explained. Deanna looked out the front window and scanned the roofline.
"Who IS that?" she asked.
"I think it's Uncle Bill," I commented, in reference to the father of the family that lives next door to my parents'.
"Yep," Daelyn said. "It IS Uncle Bill."
"Grandpa must be having a prayer meeting," Deanna snickered. "He's actually invited people to climb on the roof with him!"
I don't know how many pecans he found on the roof, but I'm sure he must have had some great fellowship.
Now, some people may think I'm a little fanatical about pecan picking . . . but I have yet to climb up on top of anyone's house to pick the pecans that have fallen there. I rolled down the window and hollered some pithy remark to my father, then yelled to Daelyn, who was climbing a tree in the front yard, to hop into the van since we needed to hurry home and eat so I could get them to church on time for choir.
Daelyn hopped in, then I remembered that I still needed to pick up Dane. He was a few houses up from where Deanna's meeting had been held and I should have swung by there on the way home. We took off back up the road, got my other son, then headed home again. As we approached my parents' once more, I could see the arm of a dark jacket on the roof. I was sure it wasn't my father's arm, since he had on a red flannel shirt. As we got closer, I could see that the man on the roof had dark hair and a mustache. This was certainly NOT my father. Then the humor of the situation struck me. Not only was Papa picking pecans on his roof, he had invited a guest to join him.
I giggled. Deanna heard me and asked what was so funny.
"Grandpa's holding a prayer meeting on the roof," I explained. Deanna looked out the front window and scanned the roofline.
"Who IS that?" she asked.
"I think it's Uncle Bill," I commented, in reference to the father of the family that lives next door to my parents'.
"Yep," Daelyn said. "It IS Uncle Bill."
"Grandpa must be having a prayer meeting," Deanna snickered. "He's actually invited people to climb on the roof with him!"
I don't know how many pecans he found on the roof, but I'm sure he must have had some great fellowship.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Spwain
Daelyn just hopped down the hallway to me.
"My leg is spwained," he hollered to me.
"How did that happen? I thought you were at Grandpa's."
"My leg got stuck between two bwicks by the manure and I had to reach down and pull my foot out."
"Who told you your leg was spwained?" I asked.
"Me."
At least he has himself to diagnose his problems.
"My leg is spwained," he hollered to me.
"How did that happen? I thought you were at Grandpa's."
"My leg got stuck between two bwicks by the manure and I had to reach down and pull my foot out."
"Who told you your leg was spwained?" I asked.
"Me."
At least he has himself to diagnose his problems.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Snow!
It snowed last night - quite a good bit. It was very hard at times and began accumulating on the deck and in the yards. We had a nice dusting just ripe for snowman- and snowangel-making when the rain started. I stood in the kitchen, eyes clenched shut, head bowed, in front of the sink (as always) praying, oh-h-h-h so hard, praying that my children would make it home from church before all the snow was gone. I ran outside and rolled 3 large, hard snowballs from the white flakes on the deck and put them on the side of the gas grill, just in case all the snow was gone, at least they would each have 1 snowball.
Then I ran back inside, hands red from cold, ran them under hot water in the sink and prayed some more.
"Lord, help me not be resentful of Don. Let the children get home in time, please, Lord. This means SO MUCH to them."
There's a story in this, you see. But, of course there's a story. There's always a story.
When I picked Deanna up from school yesterday (Dane stayed after for basketball practice), I said something about taking something to "school tomorrow".
"There isn't school tomorrow, Mom," Deanna corrected me. I looked in the rearview mirror at her. I knew that classes had been canceled for Monday coming, but tomorrow? Didn't know anything about that.
"What do you mean? Has school been canceled?"
"Not yet. But it will be. It's going to snow. I prayed. We ALL prayed."
I started getting a little nervous. Deanna doesn't usually talk like this, but she has an unshakable faith and it does seem that the Lord answers her prayers.
Like last year in England. We had rented a car when we heard we had been extended for another three weeks. I had reached a low point and was very nearly depressed. When I heard we would have to get through another three weeks, I cried out to the Lord. I clearly heard him tell me to rent a car. The thought of getting out of the house and seeing more of England cheered me immediately. The children and I pored over maps of England and picked out several places within a day's drive that we wanted to see. We planned itineraries and gave them to Don for Mapquest driving directions.
On Monday, we picked up the rental car and headed for the Lake District. I knew so very little about England. The Lake District is mountainous. Had I known that, I wouldn't have chosen it for our first day - driving on the wrong side of the road, sitting on the wrong side of the car, shifting with my left hand, getting used to new traffic symbols, roundabouts, speed limit signs, Motorways . . . the list went on and on. But we blithely for the mountainous region of northern England.
It was amazingly beautiful and COLD. As we drove along, we could see snow at the top of the hills - it was only a few hundred yards away - straight up. I told the children that I would take them up if I could only find a public road to the top of one of the peaks, but, alas, there were none. The peaks were all private property and grazing land for sheep.
The children could hardly contain themselves. They were bursting to touch the snow. Daelyn didn't remember ever having seen snow before. But they had to look longingly from a distance.
The next day, we planned on hitting Scarborough and Whitby. The children prayed at dinner and again at bedtime very specifically. Their prayer went something like this: "Lord, we really want snow, but not on the tops of mountains where we can't get to it. And not on the roads where it'd be dangerous for Mom to drive (I interjected several exclamations of driving concerns) - just on the side of the road, and enough that we can make snowmen. We know you'll do this for us. Thank you."
Such expectant faith. Such faith, period. They were certain God would do this small thing for them. I was certain they would be disappointed. I tried to reason with them, to explain that we wouldn't be in the mountains and, even in the mountains, it was only on the peaks. Nothing worked. There was no reasoning with them. They trusted God would hear their prayers and respond.
The next morning, they prayed again as we hopped in the car and headed out. I breathed a prayer myself. "Lord, please shield them from disappointment."
They were not disappointed. Snow! Enough for snowmen and snowball fights and snowangels and none on the roads. Their very specific prayers had been answered to a word.
So, last night, I prayed. And they made it home. By the time they were here, it was pouring down rain but the snow was still playable - wet, but playable.
Deanna's quite certain anything they ask the Lord for will happen. And with good reason.
Lord, let her never be disappointed. At least, not by you.
Then I ran back inside, hands red from cold, ran them under hot water in the sink and prayed some more.
"Lord, help me not be resentful of Don. Let the children get home in time, please, Lord. This means SO MUCH to them."
There's a story in this, you see. But, of course there's a story. There's always a story.
When I picked Deanna up from school yesterday (Dane stayed after for basketball practice), I said something about taking something to "school tomorrow".
"There isn't school tomorrow, Mom," Deanna corrected me. I looked in the rearview mirror at her. I knew that classes had been canceled for Monday coming, but tomorrow? Didn't know anything about that.
"What do you mean? Has school been canceled?"
"Not yet. But it will be. It's going to snow. I prayed. We ALL prayed."
I started getting a little nervous. Deanna doesn't usually talk like this, but she has an unshakable faith and it does seem that the Lord answers her prayers.
Like last year in England. We had rented a car when we heard we had been extended for another three weeks. I had reached a low point and was very nearly depressed. When I heard we would have to get through another three weeks, I cried out to the Lord. I clearly heard him tell me to rent a car. The thought of getting out of the house and seeing more of England cheered me immediately. The children and I pored over maps of England and picked out several places within a day's drive that we wanted to see. We planned itineraries and gave them to Don for Mapquest driving directions.
On Monday, we picked up the rental car and headed for the Lake District. I knew so very little about England. The Lake District is mountainous. Had I known that, I wouldn't have chosen it for our first day - driving on the wrong side of the road, sitting on the wrong side of the car, shifting with my left hand, getting used to new traffic symbols, roundabouts, speed limit signs, Motorways . . . the list went on and on. But we blithely for the mountainous region of northern England.
It was amazingly beautiful and COLD. As we drove along, we could see snow at the top of the hills - it was only a few hundred yards away - straight up. I told the children that I would take them up if I could only find a public road to the top of one of the peaks, but, alas, there were none. The peaks were all private property and grazing land for sheep.
The children could hardly contain themselves. They were bursting to touch the snow. Daelyn didn't remember ever having seen snow before. But they had to look longingly from a distance.
The next day, we planned on hitting Scarborough and Whitby. The children prayed at dinner and again at bedtime very specifically. Their prayer went something like this: "Lord, we really want snow, but not on the tops of mountains where we can't get to it. And not on the roads where it'd be dangerous for Mom to drive (I interjected several exclamations of driving concerns) - just on the side of the road, and enough that we can make snowmen. We know you'll do this for us. Thank you."
Such expectant faith. Such faith, period. They were certain God would do this small thing for them. I was certain they would be disappointed. I tried to reason with them, to explain that we wouldn't be in the mountains and, even in the mountains, it was only on the peaks. Nothing worked. There was no reasoning with them. They trusted God would hear their prayers and respond.
The next morning, they prayed again as we hopped in the car and headed out. I breathed a prayer myself. "Lord, please shield them from disappointment."
They were not disappointed. Snow! Enough for snowmen and snowball fights and snowangels and none on the roads. Their very specific prayers had been answered to a word.
So, last night, I prayed. And they made it home. By the time they were here, it was pouring down rain but the snow was still playable - wet, but playable.
Deanna's quite certain anything they ask the Lord for will happen. And with good reason.
Lord, let her never be disappointed. At least, not by you.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Hunts or Doughtys?
Dane has been complaining - alot - about stomach aches. Every evening, every morning, after school, before dinner, after dinner . . . basically, all the time he's home. Last Friday, I kept him home from school and took him to the doctor. I had decided that I was going to beg for some relief for my son. I was positioned to NOT LEAVE THIS OFFICE until they did something to help him.
Interestingly, my doctor was unavailable (I think I remember him telling me that he was going on a Mission Trip) so we saw one of his associates who took my concerns VERY seriously. He asked a lot of questions, felt around Dane's mid-section a good bit, then told me he thinks it's Dane's colon. He quadrupled Dane's dosage of medicine for reflux and asked me to start him on a laxative and increase his intake of fiber. Today, Dane says he's still having stomach pain but not near as bad. He also says he goes to the bathroom all day long. Apparently, the child inherited my stomach problems instead of his father's excellent health.
We got a call from Daelyn's teacher yesterday. He had taken a situation into his own hands and done something pretty bad, at least by school rules (not to minimize his actions in any way - he would've been spanked at home for the same offense). He was frustrated with one of his closest friends and lashed out instead of talking to the teacher or another adult. Don and I sat him down at the kitchen table while we tried to figure out how to handle the situation. Don suggested a 3-day suspension which seemed overly harsh to me. We spoke with the other boy's mother on the phone who gave us some excellent insight, then Don and I talked privately. Just then, his teacher returned my message from earlier in the day and offered still more insight.
We successfully maneuvered through that situation before sending all the children off to bed. What I found to be most fascinating is that Daelyn inherited his responses from me, as well. I have an Irish temper, inherited from my father and his father before him. I was sent to the Principal's office more than once in Elementary School for beating up boys on the playground. I was an excellent student but I didn't take flack from ANYONE. The Principal was very creative with his discipline. Once, he made me walk the halls between class periods holding hands with the boy I had beaten up. I was humiliated beyond belief. The Principal knew me well enough to know that punishment was far better than a good, quick, over-before-you-know-it spanking (I NEVER got a spanking in school - I really was a good student, I just had a temper and them boys just kept irritating me!)
Dane inherited my stomach problems and Daelyn inherited my temper. Is there NOTHING of their father's that these children inherited? I mean, I'm thankful for pretty eyes, beautiful smiles, great hair and cherubic looks. I'm very happy that Daelyn got my dimples! But Don is so mild-mannered (unless he's mad at me) and even-tempered. I got two worriers and one who'd rather punch you than talk to you. JUST LIKE THEIR MOM!
I'm going to pray that they have more qualities like their father and that, as they get older, their Doughty characteristics will become more apparent.
Less Hunt, kids - at least the questionable side of Hunt.
Interestingly, my doctor was unavailable (I think I remember him telling me that he was going on a Mission Trip) so we saw one of his associates who took my concerns VERY seriously. He asked a lot of questions, felt around Dane's mid-section a good bit, then told me he thinks it's Dane's colon. He quadrupled Dane's dosage of medicine for reflux and asked me to start him on a laxative and increase his intake of fiber. Today, Dane says he's still having stomach pain but not near as bad. He also says he goes to the bathroom all day long. Apparently, the child inherited my stomach problems instead of his father's excellent health.
We got a call from Daelyn's teacher yesterday. He had taken a situation into his own hands and done something pretty bad, at least by school rules (not to minimize his actions in any way - he would've been spanked at home for the same offense). He was frustrated with one of his closest friends and lashed out instead of talking to the teacher or another adult. Don and I sat him down at the kitchen table while we tried to figure out how to handle the situation. Don suggested a 3-day suspension which seemed overly harsh to me. We spoke with the other boy's mother on the phone who gave us some excellent insight, then Don and I talked privately. Just then, his teacher returned my message from earlier in the day and offered still more insight.
We successfully maneuvered through that situation before sending all the children off to bed. What I found to be most fascinating is that Daelyn inherited his responses from me, as well. I have an Irish temper, inherited from my father and his father before him. I was sent to the Principal's office more than once in Elementary School for beating up boys on the playground. I was an excellent student but I didn't take flack from ANYONE. The Principal was very creative with his discipline. Once, he made me walk the halls between class periods holding hands with the boy I had beaten up. I was humiliated beyond belief. The Principal knew me well enough to know that punishment was far better than a good, quick, over-before-you-know-it spanking (I NEVER got a spanking in school - I really was a good student, I just had a temper and them boys just kept irritating me!)
Dane inherited my stomach problems and Daelyn inherited my temper. Is there NOTHING of their father's that these children inherited? I mean, I'm thankful for pretty eyes, beautiful smiles, great hair and cherubic looks. I'm very happy that Daelyn got my dimples! But Don is so mild-mannered (unless he's mad at me) and even-tempered. I got two worriers and one who'd rather punch you than talk to you. JUST LIKE THEIR MOM!
I'm going to pray that they have more qualities like their father and that, as they get older, their Doughty characteristics will become more apparent.
Less Hunt, kids - at least the questionable side of Hunt.
Monday, January 14, 2008
As Promised . . .
. . . a few stories from my cousin, Greg, the Submarine Chaser.
Once, while tracking a sonar signal off the coast of England, my cousin determined that it was, indeed, a Russian sub. Interested in why a Russian sub was daring to move so close along the English coastline, he followed it and continued to track it from his airplane. After a few minutes, he heard some other noises on sonar and began to isolate them. Turned out a British sub was tracking the Russian sub and Gary was tracking both of them - the Brits protecting their mainland and the Russians trying to be "sneaky"!
There was another time that he dropped a sonar ball from a helicopter to over 500 ft. in depth, near the bottom of the ocean at this point. It was attached to the helicopter by a heavy cable so they could haul it back up again and the cable fed them the data from the ball. Suddenly, the helicopter began pitching and the data scope went dead. The pilot yelled to Greg to pull the ball up. When he did, it had been destroyed and was quite smashed. They took it back to Base and found out it had been attacked by a VERY large shark who tried to eat it, then decided it didn't taste good, and spit it out. It was scrapped and they got a new sonar ball at the cost of $100,000.
Search and Rescue is a secondary mission to all military personnel with access to Emergency Equipment. Once, while on assignment, they received an S.O.S. A family boat had crashed on a deserted island. Greg was lowered from the helicopter in a harness and was lifted back up with a baby under each arm. Later, after getting 3 adults to safety in the helicopter, he was lowered back down to save the family dog.
Another Mission for his Unit was Sovereignty Patrols. Once every 24 hours, all the borders of Canada had to be flown over to check for people illegally trying to take over Canadian land. He said that the North Pole belongs to Canada and he regularly patrolled over the Pole. They also looked for Drug Runners (he said he caught a lot) and polar bear poachers. He said one polar bear skin will sell on the Black Market for $30,000 - $40,000.
He explained that every country that borders water has a 12-mile limit around their land mass. Other countries are not allowed to enter this airspace or ocean space without permission of the government. He often tracked ships, other planes, or subs that entered the 12-mile limit. I asked if he ever found subs lurking where they weren't supposed to be.
"Oh, yes," he answered. "Quite often."
"What did you do?" I asked.
"Notified the Proper Authorities and let the Diplomats work it out," he said.
Daelyn's class decided he was a Spy! They oohed and aahed and Greg was quite pleased.
Greg also explained that there's a 200-mile limit around each country for fishing rights. Each country has the right to control the commerce of it's water for 200 miles in every direction.
"Aren't there places in Canada where there's another continent closer than 200 miles?" I asked.
"Yes," Greg explained. "Russia is much closer than 200 miles to Alaska. In fact, on a clear day, you can stand on the Alaskan Peninsula and see Russia."
I was suitably impressed. "So what do they do about the 200-mile thing?"
"They split it exactly down the middle. And don't get me wrong. This is a VERY big deal. Countries get fightin' mad if you fish in their territory. That's one of the things we had to watch for."
Then there was the time that they were very far north in cold waters. He was getting a repeating signal on sonar and isolated it to a particular class of submarine based on the number and sound of the 5 engines. After reporting it to Base, they discovered it was just a colony of shrimp talking to each other. Shrimp communicate through squeaks and they get much more active in colder waters. His 5-engine sub was a colony of millions of shrimp!
He had lots of other amazing stories to keep my children's classes entertained. I had a wonderful time. I never knew my Cousin was such an interesting fellow.
Once, while tracking a sonar signal off the coast of England, my cousin determined that it was, indeed, a Russian sub. Interested in why a Russian sub was daring to move so close along the English coastline, he followed it and continued to track it from his airplane. After a few minutes, he heard some other noises on sonar and began to isolate them. Turned out a British sub was tracking the Russian sub and Gary was tracking both of them - the Brits protecting their mainland and the Russians trying to be "sneaky"!
There was another time that he dropped a sonar ball from a helicopter to over 500 ft. in depth, near the bottom of the ocean at this point. It was attached to the helicopter by a heavy cable so they could haul it back up again and the cable fed them the data from the ball. Suddenly, the helicopter began pitching and the data scope went dead. The pilot yelled to Greg to pull the ball up. When he did, it had been destroyed and was quite smashed. They took it back to Base and found out it had been attacked by a VERY large shark who tried to eat it, then decided it didn't taste good, and spit it out. It was scrapped and they got a new sonar ball at the cost of $100,000.
Search and Rescue is a secondary mission to all military personnel with access to Emergency Equipment. Once, while on assignment, they received an S.O.S. A family boat had crashed on a deserted island. Greg was lowered from the helicopter in a harness and was lifted back up with a baby under each arm. Later, after getting 3 adults to safety in the helicopter, he was lowered back down to save the family dog.
Another Mission for his Unit was Sovereignty Patrols. Once every 24 hours, all the borders of Canada had to be flown over to check for people illegally trying to take over Canadian land. He said that the North Pole belongs to Canada and he regularly patrolled over the Pole. They also looked for Drug Runners (he said he caught a lot) and polar bear poachers. He said one polar bear skin will sell on the Black Market for $30,000 - $40,000.
He explained that every country that borders water has a 12-mile limit around their land mass. Other countries are not allowed to enter this airspace or ocean space without permission of the government. He often tracked ships, other planes, or subs that entered the 12-mile limit. I asked if he ever found subs lurking where they weren't supposed to be.
"Oh, yes," he answered. "Quite often."
"What did you do?" I asked.
"Notified the Proper Authorities and let the Diplomats work it out," he said.
Daelyn's class decided he was a Spy! They oohed and aahed and Greg was quite pleased.
Greg also explained that there's a 200-mile limit around each country for fishing rights. Each country has the right to control the commerce of it's water for 200 miles in every direction.
"Aren't there places in Canada where there's another continent closer than 200 miles?" I asked.
"Yes," Greg explained. "Russia is much closer than 200 miles to Alaska. In fact, on a clear day, you can stand on the Alaskan Peninsula and see Russia."
I was suitably impressed. "So what do they do about the 200-mile thing?"
"They split it exactly down the middle. And don't get me wrong. This is a VERY big deal. Countries get fightin' mad if you fish in their territory. That's one of the things we had to watch for."
Then there was the time that they were very far north in cold waters. He was getting a repeating signal on sonar and isolated it to a particular class of submarine based on the number and sound of the 5 engines. After reporting it to Base, they discovered it was just a colony of shrimp talking to each other. Shrimp communicate through squeaks and they get much more active in colder waters. His 5-engine sub was a colony of millions of shrimp!
He had lots of other amazing stories to keep my children's classes entertained. I had a wonderful time. I never knew my Cousin was such an interesting fellow.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Christian Imagery
A friend of mine lent Deanna a book she bought for her daughter that explores the Christian symbolism in "High School Musical". Deanna's been faithfully reading it, looking for any reason for which she can possibly love "High School Musical" more.
This morning our Minister was gone. He's chaperoning the Senior High Youth Ski Trip, but he left our Associate Pastor, a second-career man in his late 40's who is officially a Deacon and will be ordained a Priest the first weekend in February, in charge. When we slid into our pew late this morning (as usual), I noticed there was no Priest on the altar. I asked Don, "What gives? Are we having morning prayers instead of Mass?" Our Priest has taken a couple of Sabbaticals since I've been in this church and, during those times, occasionally we had prayers instead of Mass with Communion, because there wasn't a Priest available to bless the Elements.
Don shrugged. Obviously, he didn't know. Then, following the Passing of the Peace, our Associate jumped forward to The Lord's Prayer. I was a little confused. There were 2-3 pages of Liturgy that got missed. Then I realized. The Elements must already be blessed, so there's no need for him to go through that part of the Liturgy. Sitting behind us was our Pastor's oldest son still living at home. I leaned back and asked Peter if Fr. Thompson had pre-blessed the Elements and he explained that it had been done last Sunday and reserved for today. Then, at Sunday School, our Deacon explained that what we celebrated is called a "Deacon's Mass" and is perfectly acceptable, though rare, and only used for emergencies, typically.
But back to my point. His sermon this morning was based on the Gospel reading about Jesus being baptised by John. He said it's one of his favorite scriptures because he can imagine all the drama: the Heavens opening and a dove descending, a voice booming out from above the earth (a voice similar to that of James Earl Jones) . . . this could be a Cecil B. DeMille production.
Then he talked about the movie, "The Lion King". He asked if there were any attendees at that service who weren't familiar with this movie and then laughed when no one raised their hand. At the early service (7:45 - I told you it was early!) which is typically attended by the older members of our congregation, no one knew the story and were quite at a loss to understand the comparison in the sermon.
He talked about Simba being greeted in the jungle (once he's grown into a young adult lion) by the baboon and told that the baboon knew who he was. The baboon then leads him to a pond and points in the water. Simba looks in to see a reflection of himself which then changes into an image of his father and he hears a deep voice pronounce "You are my Son!"
This is exactly what happens in today's Gospel and, according to our Associate Pastor, is where that portion of "The Lion King" is drawn from. One of the tasks that's most important to us as Christians is to understand "whose" we are. We are the sons (and daughters) of the King of Kings, the Prince of Peace, Heirs to the Kingdom of God. Before we can pass on our faith, we must be secure in our own faith, understanding that we are Princes and Princesses.
It was a beautiful sermon, but I'm not sure I would have made the connection between "The Lion King" and the story of Jesus' baptism.
Maybe I need to read the book Deanna has about "High School Musical". You never know what I might find.
This morning our Minister was gone. He's chaperoning the Senior High Youth Ski Trip, but he left our Associate Pastor, a second-career man in his late 40's who is officially a Deacon and will be ordained a Priest the first weekend in February, in charge. When we slid into our pew late this morning (as usual), I noticed there was no Priest on the altar. I asked Don, "What gives? Are we having morning prayers instead of Mass?" Our Priest has taken a couple of Sabbaticals since I've been in this church and, during those times, occasionally we had prayers instead of Mass with Communion, because there wasn't a Priest available to bless the Elements.
Don shrugged. Obviously, he didn't know. Then, following the Passing of the Peace, our Associate jumped forward to The Lord's Prayer. I was a little confused. There were 2-3 pages of Liturgy that got missed. Then I realized. The Elements must already be blessed, so there's no need for him to go through that part of the Liturgy. Sitting behind us was our Pastor's oldest son still living at home. I leaned back and asked Peter if Fr. Thompson had pre-blessed the Elements and he explained that it had been done last Sunday and reserved for today. Then, at Sunday School, our Deacon explained that what we celebrated is called a "Deacon's Mass" and is perfectly acceptable, though rare, and only used for emergencies, typically.
But back to my point. His sermon this morning was based on the Gospel reading about Jesus being baptised by John. He said it's one of his favorite scriptures because he can imagine all the drama: the Heavens opening and a dove descending, a voice booming out from above the earth (a voice similar to that of James Earl Jones) . . . this could be a Cecil B. DeMille production.
Then he talked about the movie, "The Lion King". He asked if there were any attendees at that service who weren't familiar with this movie and then laughed when no one raised their hand. At the early service (7:45 - I told you it was early!) which is typically attended by the older members of our congregation, no one knew the story and were quite at a loss to understand the comparison in the sermon.
He talked about Simba being greeted in the jungle (once he's grown into a young adult lion) by the baboon and told that the baboon knew who he was. The baboon then leads him to a pond and points in the water. Simba looks in to see a reflection of himself which then changes into an image of his father and he hears a deep voice pronounce "You are my Son!"
This is exactly what happens in today's Gospel and, according to our Associate Pastor, is where that portion of "The Lion King" is drawn from. One of the tasks that's most important to us as Christians is to understand "whose" we are. We are the sons (and daughters) of the King of Kings, the Prince of Peace, Heirs to the Kingdom of God. Before we can pass on our faith, we must be secure in our own faith, understanding that we are Princes and Princesses.
It was a beautiful sermon, but I'm not sure I would have made the connection between "The Lion King" and the story of Jesus' baptism.
Maybe I need to read the book Deanna has about "High School Musical". You never know what I might find.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Submarine Chasing
Yesterday morning, Daelyn asked when Cousin Greg was leaving.
"Friday morning," I said.
"When is my fieldtrip?" he asked.
"Next Thursday," I told him.
"OH-h-h-h-h!" he responded.
"Why, Daelyn?" Dane asked.
"I wanted him to go on my fieldtrip with me," Daelyn explained.
I suggested, half tongue-in-cheek, that he take Greg for Show and Tell at school.
Deanna spoke up. "Don't they have Show and Tell on Friday? Greg will already be gone."
"Usually they have it on Thursday," I said. "Daelyn, we'll have to check with Mrs. Phillips today."
Which we did. And Mrs. Phillips said to have Greg there by 12:15 today. Yesterday afternoon, Greg came down to use our Internet Connection and Daelyn asked if he'd be his Show and Tell. Greg laughed and asked me what Daelyn meant. I gave him the whole scoop.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Daelyn, but Auntie Alice wants to go our to Trina's house tomorrow." My sister, Trina, lives about 35 minutes away and, when Mama goes, she stays all day. Daelyn was disappointed but understood that he couldn't abscond with all of Greg's time.
Around 8:30 last night, I got a call from Grandpa. Greg had asked if they could somehow rearrange his schedule so he could be there for Daelyn. Mama and Daddy had worked out the details.
"Greg and I've been talking," my father continued, "and we think the most interesting thing for Daelyn's class would be for Greg to explain what he did in the Canadian Air Force."
Me: "What DID he do?"
Papa: "He was a Submarine Chaser!"
My father went on to explain what Greg's career involved. He was one of only a few Air Force soldiers who tracked down enemy subs, keeping tabs on where they were and what possible armaments they had in proximity to Canadian waters or vessels.
"WOW! He's going to talk about that tomorrow?"
"That's what we were thinking. We thought Daelyn's class would likely enjoy that," my father continued.
A few minutes later, I was sitting in the Den talking to Don.
"Dane's class has already studied sonar. I bet they would love to hear what Greg did." On a whim, I called Dane's teacher and told her what we were doing and offerred to bring Greg around to her classroom. She asked to have him come around as soon as he was done in the Kindergarten.
Deanna was still up. I told her about Greg going to the boys' classrooms and she wanted him to go to her class, too.
"I don't know, hon. It's too late to call your teacher and I can't just bring him in unexpectedly. Why don't you talk to your teacher when you get into school tomorrow morning and I'll check with you when we get there. If she wants Greg to come and talk to your class, we'll add it on the end."
So . . . Greg talked to the Kindergarten class, then the 3rd graders and, last, the 5th grade. The questions got more interesting with the higher grades and I asked the most questions of anyone. Greg was in the Air Force for 33 years and spent 25 as a Submarine Chaser. Their secondary mission was Search and Rescue. In addition, he stopped Drug Smuggling into Canada, made Sovereignty Patrols, looked for violators of the 12-mile Canadian Waters limit, and alerted the RCMP's when he found polar bear poaching or fishing violations.
One of the boys in Dane's class asked if he liked what he did. Greg smiled broadly and responded, "I loved it! It was the best job I could have ever had."
More on Greg's job and our visits to the classrooms tomorrow.
"Friday morning," I said.
"When is my fieldtrip?" he asked.
"Next Thursday," I told him.
"OH-h-h-h-h!" he responded.
"Why, Daelyn?" Dane asked.
"I wanted him to go on my fieldtrip with me," Daelyn explained.
I suggested, half tongue-in-cheek, that he take Greg for Show and Tell at school.
Deanna spoke up. "Don't they have Show and Tell on Friday? Greg will already be gone."
"Usually they have it on Thursday," I said. "Daelyn, we'll have to check with Mrs. Phillips today."
Which we did. And Mrs. Phillips said to have Greg there by 12:15 today. Yesterday afternoon, Greg came down to use our Internet Connection and Daelyn asked if he'd be his Show and Tell. Greg laughed and asked me what Daelyn meant. I gave him the whole scoop.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Daelyn, but Auntie Alice wants to go our to Trina's house tomorrow." My sister, Trina, lives about 35 minutes away and, when Mama goes, she stays all day. Daelyn was disappointed but understood that he couldn't abscond with all of Greg's time.
Around 8:30 last night, I got a call from Grandpa. Greg had asked if they could somehow rearrange his schedule so he could be there for Daelyn. Mama and Daddy had worked out the details.
"Greg and I've been talking," my father continued, "and we think the most interesting thing for Daelyn's class would be for Greg to explain what he did in the Canadian Air Force."
Me: "What DID he do?"
Papa: "He was a Submarine Chaser!"
My father went on to explain what Greg's career involved. He was one of only a few Air Force soldiers who tracked down enemy subs, keeping tabs on where they were and what possible armaments they had in proximity to Canadian waters or vessels.
"WOW! He's going to talk about that tomorrow?"
"That's what we were thinking. We thought Daelyn's class would likely enjoy that," my father continued.
A few minutes later, I was sitting in the Den talking to Don.
"Dane's class has already studied sonar. I bet they would love to hear what Greg did." On a whim, I called Dane's teacher and told her what we were doing and offerred to bring Greg around to her classroom. She asked to have him come around as soon as he was done in the Kindergarten.
Deanna was still up. I told her about Greg going to the boys' classrooms and she wanted him to go to her class, too.
"I don't know, hon. It's too late to call your teacher and I can't just bring him in unexpectedly. Why don't you talk to your teacher when you get into school tomorrow morning and I'll check with you when we get there. If she wants Greg to come and talk to your class, we'll add it on the end."
So . . . Greg talked to the Kindergarten class, then the 3rd graders and, last, the 5th grade. The questions got more interesting with the higher grades and I asked the most questions of anyone. Greg was in the Air Force for 33 years and spent 25 as a Submarine Chaser. Their secondary mission was Search and Rescue. In addition, he stopped Drug Smuggling into Canada, made Sovereignty Patrols, looked for violators of the 12-mile Canadian Waters limit, and alerted the RCMP's when he found polar bear poaching or fishing violations.
One of the boys in Dane's class asked if he liked what he did. Greg smiled broadly and responded, "I loved it! It was the best job I could have ever had."
More on Greg's job and our visits to the classrooms tomorrow.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Sleepy
Nicki works nights - 8 hours shifts from 3 to 11 twice a week and 12-hr. shifts twice a week from 11 am to 11 pm. She was off today but, last night, they gave her the option of coming in at 7 this morning and working till 11 so one of her 12-hr. shifts this week will be reduced to an 8-hr. She jumped at the chance so, following a late shift and even later return home last night, she had to get up early to be at work by 7 a.m.
When she got home this morning from her extra 4-hr. shift, she was telling me about her morning. Apparently, Daelyn got up to join her while she showered and got ready. She said she was in the kitchen around 6 a.m. when he suddenly appeared, shrugged, threw his arms out to the sides in a gesture of "whatever can I do about it" and exclaimed, "I think I might be a genius!"
He continued with "All my friends say I am". I believe he must have had a very realistic dream because I've never heard ANYONE call him a genius. It's not that he's stupid, just not brilliant - at least, not that we know about.
Nicki and I rolled our eyes and had a good laugh over our little genius. She found it quite funny that he used that in place of "good morning" or "how are you today" or even "I'm a little hungry, how about you?"
Welcome to the Doughty Home, Nicki. All geniuses are welcome here, even if you're only 5 and still half-asleep.
When she got home this morning from her extra 4-hr. shift, she was telling me about her morning. Apparently, Daelyn got up to join her while she showered and got ready. She said she was in the kitchen around 6 a.m. when he suddenly appeared, shrugged, threw his arms out to the sides in a gesture of "whatever can I do about it" and exclaimed, "I think I might be a genius!"
He continued with "All my friends say I am". I believe he must have had a very realistic dream because I've never heard ANYONE call him a genius. It's not that he's stupid, just not brilliant - at least, not that we know about.
Nicki and I rolled our eyes and had a good laugh over our little genius. She found it quite funny that he used that in place of "good morning" or "how are you today" or even "I'm a little hungry, how about you?"
Welcome to the Doughty Home, Nicki. All geniuses are welcome here, even if you're only 5 and still half-asleep.
Super
Deanna's home from school today with an upset stomach. So . . . we're watching YouTube music videos of SoljaBoy.
Don and I were at a wedding reception Saturday night and they played SoljaBoy's Crank That. All the young people were on the dancefloor doing . . . something?!? Don and I looked quizzically at each other. He kept saying, "Superman"! We decided we didn't WANT to know.
Now I do! - thanks to Deanna who, by the way, is only 11.
My cousin who lives in Nova Scotia arrived for a visit yesterday. My father had sinus surgery in the morning and Greg arrived just before we brought Daddy home from the hospital. He and his wife are taking a 4-month tour of the southern U.S. with their motor home. I asked if I could bring the boys up this afternoon to take a look-see. We've wanted, for several years now, to rent an R.V. and take the kids camping at the lake. We thought it would be great fun to camp in a motor home. But they're very expensive and I can't seem to get anyone who's trying to sell theirs to let us rent it for a weekend.
But I have to go curl my hair and get the laundry done. The camper awaits!
Don and I were at a wedding reception Saturday night and they played SoljaBoy's Crank That. All the young people were on the dancefloor doing . . . something?!? Don and I looked quizzically at each other. He kept saying, "Superman"! We decided we didn't WANT to know.
Now I do! - thanks to Deanna who, by the way, is only 11.
My cousin who lives in Nova Scotia arrived for a visit yesterday. My father had sinus surgery in the morning and Greg arrived just before we brought Daddy home from the hospital. He and his wife are taking a 4-month tour of the southern U.S. with their motor home. I asked if I could bring the boys up this afternoon to take a look-see. We've wanted, for several years now, to rent an R.V. and take the kids camping at the lake. We thought it would be great fun to camp in a motor home. But they're very expensive and I can't seem to get anyone who's trying to sell theirs to let us rent it for a weekend.
But I have to go curl my hair and get the laundry done. The camper awaits!
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Faith and Holiness
Our Pastor started a new Adult Sunday School class today that will run for 4 weeks. I thought the class was on The Episcopal Church and our Traditions so Don and I made a decision to forego our usual class, which we LOVE, in favor of this one. Turns out the topic is more like "How to Teach your Children (and Grandchildren) About Your Faith", which actually is great, too.
We began this morning with two questions that we discussed in small groups: what is Faith and what is Holiness. Our Rector explained that we cannot pass on our faith and holiness unless we ourselves understand it.
After talking in our small groups, each group had an opportunity to share their ideas with the class. One of the groups used a definition that really struck me.
"Faith is God's gift to us. Holiness is what we give back to him."
Fr. David described faith as believing in the unseen, as in the scripture "faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." He said the word holiness comes from the Greek and, literally, translates "whole or complete", meaning holiness is becoming more perfectly the person God wants us to be.
While I've always believed faith to be what the scripture above states and I find it comforting to think of holiness as "completeness", I'm struck by the explanation my classmates gave. It sure is worth thinking about.
If faith is the gift God has given to me, just how well do I offer it back to him? The road to holiness becomes steeper the further up the mountain you go, making you realize just how much more difficult it is to obtain the closer you get to obtaining it.
Seems to me I remember Mother Theresa commenting on sin and holiness once. She said something like, "The nearer you draw to the Lord, the more the battleground against sin moves from actions to the mind." As humans, it IS possible to reach a place of sinless action - according to Mother Theresa, anyway. (I can't comment on this personally, because I'm certainly not there!) But then you begin to realize just how difficult it is to purify the mind. Judgementalism, perfectionism, criticalness, negative thinking . . . these are the areas of sin that the purest amongst us deal with.
If the battleground of "the Holy" is in their minds, I'm far from holy. But I'm, at least, attempting to climb the mountain. Very often, it seems, I sit on a boulder, pull off my shoes and socks, and rub the blisters, and seem to take a short break from pursuing holiness. Then the Lord encourages me again to put them socks and shoes back on and return to the journey.
Sometimes I wish I could see the top. Maybe then I'd be encouraged enough to give that final push up the mountain. But I'm not exactly sure of what I'm asking. Perhaps the top of the mountain is Heaven and I will only reach it at the moment of death, in which case, I'll be happy to continue the climb for now, thank you, sir.
In any case, if I think of holiness as my gift back to God, I'm certainly more encouraged to pursue it - if I can but give him a small portion of what he's given me . . .
We began this morning with two questions that we discussed in small groups: what is Faith and what is Holiness. Our Rector explained that we cannot pass on our faith and holiness unless we ourselves understand it.
After talking in our small groups, each group had an opportunity to share their ideas with the class. One of the groups used a definition that really struck me.
"Faith is God's gift to us. Holiness is what we give back to him."
Fr. David described faith as believing in the unseen, as in the scripture "faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." He said the word holiness comes from the Greek and, literally, translates "whole or complete", meaning holiness is becoming more perfectly the person God wants us to be.
While I've always believed faith to be what the scripture above states and I find it comforting to think of holiness as "completeness", I'm struck by the explanation my classmates gave. It sure is worth thinking about.
If faith is the gift God has given to me, just how well do I offer it back to him? The road to holiness becomes steeper the further up the mountain you go, making you realize just how much more difficult it is to obtain the closer you get to obtaining it.
Seems to me I remember Mother Theresa commenting on sin and holiness once. She said something like, "The nearer you draw to the Lord, the more the battleground against sin moves from actions to the mind." As humans, it IS possible to reach a place of sinless action - according to Mother Theresa, anyway. (I can't comment on this personally, because I'm certainly not there!) But then you begin to realize just how difficult it is to purify the mind. Judgementalism, perfectionism, criticalness, negative thinking . . . these are the areas of sin that the purest amongst us deal with.
If the battleground of "the Holy" is in their minds, I'm far from holy. But I'm, at least, attempting to climb the mountain. Very often, it seems, I sit on a boulder, pull off my shoes and socks, and rub the blisters, and seem to take a short break from pursuing holiness. Then the Lord encourages me again to put them socks and shoes back on and return to the journey.
Sometimes I wish I could see the top. Maybe then I'd be encouraged enough to give that final push up the mountain. But I'm not exactly sure of what I'm asking. Perhaps the top of the mountain is Heaven and I will only reach it at the moment of death, in which case, I'll be happy to continue the climb for now, thank you, sir.
In any case, if I think of holiness as my gift back to God, I'm certainly more encouraged to pursue it - if I can but give him a small portion of what he's given me . . .
Friday, January 04, 2008
Keeping It in Perspective
Daelyn has become fanatical about Nicki. Dane and Deanna both had basketball games the Saturday before Christmas in the morning. Don had another commitment, so I took them. Daelyn began whining shortly after we arrived, asking to go home. Finally, when Don joined us, he asked again.
"Mama, I want to go home. I want to see Nicki before she leaves for work!"
I looked at my watch. Nicki was working from 11 am to 11 pm. She usually leaves for work about 25 minutes before her shift. It was already 10:40. It was pretty doubtful we'd catch her, but I loaded him up and we took off for home.
I broke the news to him in the van. He was very disappointed and fussed a little. He's repeated this same scenario about 4 times now, even refusing to go to bed at night until Nicki comes home (fat chance, Bud - you're not staying up until midnight).
On Wednesday, Daelyn began fussing again. We had been out and, when we returned, Nicki was gone.
"I HAVE to see Nicki," he yelled. I scrunched up my face and looked at him.
"Son, have you fallen in love with Nicki?" I asked, fully expecting an affirmative response. He's only five and love for him comes and goes on a whim.
"Not today, Mama. Maybe I'll fall in love with her tomorrow. For today, I just miss her 'cause I like her."
"Mama, I want to go home. I want to see Nicki before she leaves for work!"
I looked at my watch. Nicki was working from 11 am to 11 pm. She usually leaves for work about 25 minutes before her shift. It was already 10:40. It was pretty doubtful we'd catch her, but I loaded him up and we took off for home.
I broke the news to him in the van. He was very disappointed and fussed a little. He's repeated this same scenario about 4 times now, even refusing to go to bed at night until Nicki comes home (fat chance, Bud - you're not staying up until midnight).
On Wednesday, Daelyn began fussing again. We had been out and, when we returned, Nicki was gone.
"I HAVE to see Nicki," he yelled. I scrunched up my face and looked at him.
"Son, have you fallen in love with Nicki?" I asked, fully expecting an affirmative response. He's only five and love for him comes and goes on a whim.
"Not today, Mama. Maybe I'll fall in love with her tomorrow. For today, I just miss her 'cause I like her."
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