I'm not one of those people who faithfully reads the newspaper. Many years ago, I had a job at MCG that required me to read all local and National newspapers daily. My entire day was spent reading up on current events, looking for news regarding large corporations and millionaires who might be interested in spending their millions on MCG. I got a little burned out on News.
We don't even subscribe. My parents do and send us down the Sunday paper once they're finished. Don clips the coupons and I glance over the sales inserts. Once in a while, he'll find something that he thinks would be of interest to me and cuts it out. My father, also, sends down articles with asterisks for me to peruse. But, typically, I read the Parade (or whatever version our hometown newspaper is currently distributing), especially the inside front cover which Don likes to call the "Gossip Report" and the Sunday comics.
Don is very meticulous about saving those two parts for me each week and putting them at my place at the kitchen table. I, in turn, am pretty meticulous about reading them. Sometimes I have to wrestle the funnies from Deanna, but I almost always get them read (my educational reading material!)
Last night, Don had been separating out the parts of the Sunday paper which my father had sent down via one of the children. He was sitting on the loveseat in the dining room and began clipping coupons once the news was separated. There, in the middle of the coupons and scissors, was the Magazine that I always read.
He ran off to the store and I worked on taping matching gift tags into the underside of Christmas-decorated boxes before storing them until next year. I had them all sorted by size and shape and was about half done when Don returned with groceries for me to unload.
We met in the dining room, about even with the loveseat, when Don gasped.
"What, honey?" I prodded. "What's wrong?"
He pointed, silently, at the front cover of the Magazine. A circular hole met my glance, covering almost the entire cover.
Don quickly flipped the page. So much for my "Gossip Report". Gone. Cut away with the front cover.
"WHO could have DONE this?" I asked, incredulous. The most important part of the paper, destroyed!
I leaned over to look at the front cover and noticed two little words on the bottom of the remaining part. It said, simply, "Jonas Brothers".
I held the words up for Don to see. This morning, the culprit returned the picture of the Jonas' so I could read my part, silly grin on his/her beautiful little face (as if you didn't know!).
"Sorry, Mom!"
Of course Don and I understood. After all, my Gossip Column can't compete with teenage hormones and the Jonas Brothers.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
Home and Hearth
We're home and had a wonderful Christmas with Don's folks. It was peaceful and focused on family and our blessings - just what I needed.
Now I'm into the throes of trying to put order back into our home and lives. My niece is going to come and work with me next week to scale down . . . everything, hopefully. In any case, I need to clear a path so she and I can work. So far, so good.
Happy New Year!
Now I'm into the throes of trying to put order back into our home and lives. My niece is going to come and work with me next week to scale down . . . everything, hopefully. In any case, I need to clear a path so she and I can work. So far, so good.
Happy New Year!
Friday, December 19, 2008
A Christmas Story
A friend sent me this story earlier this week. I hope it touches you as much as it did me.
Merry Christmas!!
Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving.
It was Christmas Eve 1878. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas. We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible.
After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read Scriptures. But Pa didn't get the Bible, instead he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long though, I was too busy wallowing in self-pity. Soon, Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out tonight."
I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when he'd told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what.
Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load. Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed. "I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high sideboards on.
After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood - the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all Fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. "Pa," I asked, "what are you doing?"
"You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure, I'd been by, but so what?
Yeah," I said, "Why?"
"I rode by just today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt." That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait. When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand. "What's in the little sack?" I asked. "Shoes, they're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."
We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn't have been our concern.
We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?" "Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt. Could we come in for a bit?"
Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp.
"We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children - sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out.
"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said. He turned to me and said, "Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let's get that fire up to size and heat this place up." I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too. In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak.
My heart swelled within me and a joy that I'd never known before filled my soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people.
I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us."
In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.
Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.
Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their Pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.
At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the youngest. My two brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away.
Widow Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to say, May the Lord bless you, I know for certain that He will."
Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your ma and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that, but on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do. Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand."
I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Widow Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children.
For the rest of my life, whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.
Hope yours is as Blessed!
Merry Christmas!!
Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving.
It was Christmas Eve 1878. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas. We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible.
After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read Scriptures. But Pa didn't get the Bible, instead he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long though, I was too busy wallowing in self-pity. Soon, Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out tonight."
I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when he'd told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what.
Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load. Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed. "I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high sideboards on.
After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood - the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all Fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. "Pa," I asked, "what are you doing?"
"You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure, I'd been by, but so what?
Yeah," I said, "Why?"
"I rode by just today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt." That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait. When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand. "What's in the little sack?" I asked. "Shoes, they're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."
We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn't have been our concern.
We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?" "Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt. Could we come in for a bit?"
Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp.
"We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children - sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out.
"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said. He turned to me and said, "Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let's get that fire up to size and heat this place up." I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too. In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak.
My heart swelled within me and a joy that I'd never known before filled my soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people.
I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us."
In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.
Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.
Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their Pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.
At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the youngest. My two brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away.
Widow Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to say, May the Lord bless you, I know for certain that He will."
Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your ma and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that, but on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do. Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand."
I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Widow Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children.
For the rest of my life, whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.
Hope yours is as Blessed!
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Had to Share This!
I just looked up the weather forecast for Parkersburg. We'll be leaving early Sunday morning to spend Christmas with Grandma and Grandpa Doughty. Here's what it looked like.
Sunday Night
Low: 20
Mostly cloudy with a 50% chance of snow showers. Lows around 20.
Monday
High: 28
Mostly cloudy with a 30% chance of snow showers. Brisk with highs in the upper 20s.
Monday Night
Low: 20
Mostly cloudy. Lows around 20.
Tuesday
High: 35
Mostly sunny. Highs in the mid 30s.
Tuesday Night
Low: 25
Mostly cloudy with a 50% chance of snow showers. Lows in the mid 20s.
Wednesday
High: 32
Cloudy with a 50% chance of snow showers. Highs in the lower 30s.
!!!!!
How exciting is this! Surely, we'll have some snow while we're there and, by the looks of things, it'll stick. A HIGH OF 28 on Monday!?! I'm gonna pack several pairs of mittens for each child and really warm clothes for snowman and snowball-making.
It's possible we might even have a White Christmas? Is it too much to hope?
Sunday Night
Low: 20
Mostly cloudy with a 50% chance of snow showers. Lows around 20.
Monday
High: 28
Mostly cloudy with a 30% chance of snow showers. Brisk with highs in the upper 20s.
Monday Night
Low: 20
Mostly cloudy. Lows around 20.
Tuesday
High: 35
Mostly sunny. Highs in the mid 30s.
Tuesday Night
Low: 25
Mostly cloudy with a 50% chance of snow showers. Lows in the mid 20s.
Wednesday
High: 32
Cloudy with a 50% chance of snow showers. Highs in the lower 30s.
!!!!!
How exciting is this! Surely, we'll have some snow while we're there and, by the looks of things, it'll stick. A HIGH OF 28 on Monday!?! I'm gonna pack several pairs of mittens for each child and really warm clothes for snowman and snowball-making.
It's possible we might even have a White Christmas? Is it too much to hope?
Food with a Twist
Last Saturday, while we were decorating our tree as a family, I decided to pull out the party foods. I had made a huge cheeseball, had crackers, Christmas cookies, beef stick, and I baked a luscious spiral ham that Don had picked up for me on sale recently. I basted the ham with the honey and spice packet they include and the ham was absolutely delicious. Daelyn asked a lot of questions about the "spiral ham", trying to figure out why it was called "spiral".
At 6:30 yesterday morning, my father was standing in his kitchen looking through sales newspapers when he heard the back doorknob rattle. He turned to find Daelyn trying to get in and quickly unlocked the door.
"Good morning, Grandpa," Daelyn chimed in that sweet voice. "How are you this morning?"
"Fine, Daelyn," Grandpa responded. "What are you doing up here so early?"
"I'm walking the dog for Daney since he had surgerwee," Daelyn explained. "What are YOU doing?"
"I'm looking through sales newspapers."
"For what?"
"Well, I'm trying to see if anyone has turkeys on sale."
"Turkeys? Let me think." Pause from Daelyn. Then, "Oh, yeah. I saw a commercial. Kroger's has turkeys on sale, Grandpa."
"Krogers? You say Krogers has turkeys on sale?" (When the story was repeated to me by Grandpa, he had a little hint of laughter in his voice at this point.)
"Yeah. Krogers. Oh, no. That's right. I'm sorry, Grandpa. It wasn't turkeys they have on sale. It was twisted hams."
At 6:30 yesterday morning, my father was standing in his kitchen looking through sales newspapers when he heard the back doorknob rattle. He turned to find Daelyn trying to get in and quickly unlocked the door.
"Good morning, Grandpa," Daelyn chimed in that sweet voice. "How are you this morning?"
"Fine, Daelyn," Grandpa responded. "What are you doing up here so early?"
"I'm walking the dog for Daney since he had surgerwee," Daelyn explained. "What are YOU doing?"
"I'm looking through sales newspapers."
"For what?"
"Well, I'm trying to see if anyone has turkeys on sale."
"Turkeys? Let me think." Pause from Daelyn. Then, "Oh, yeah. I saw a commercial. Kroger's has turkeys on sale, Grandpa."
"Krogers? You say Krogers has turkeys on sale?" (When the story was repeated to me by Grandpa, he had a little hint of laughter in his voice at this point.)
"Yeah. Krogers. Oh, no. That's right. I'm sorry, Grandpa. It wasn't turkeys they have on sale. It was twisted hams."
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Gifts and Friends (or Surgeons)
Dane had to have additional sinus surgery yesterday. I took him for his 3 week post-op last week and the doctor attempted to look into his nose with a scope. The pain was a little too much for Dane and the doctor wasn't able to see anything except some scar tissue that had adhered his middle turbinates on both sides to the lateral walls of his sinus.
Without being able to move past the turbinate, he couldn't see into Dane's sinus'. Dane has been complaining of a lot of pain and was very congested, so Dr. Harmon was afraid he had gotten blocked up with blood and dead tissue that couldn't slough off and there was some concern that his sinus' weren't able to heal. He decided he HAD to put Dane back under, remove the scar tissue, clean up the surgical area, and take a good look at his progress.
It was only going to be a 10-minute procedure, but it meant going back under anesthesia which is the biggest risk, anyway, and all the pre-op preparation.
Dane's fine. Turns out, there wasn't any problem with the sinus'. They're healing just fine and the doctor didn't see any accumulation of anything. He removed the scar tissue and put some cellulose packing around the turbinate to keep it from re-adhering.
Dane had some bleeding and some pain yesterday but is much better today. The doctor thought he could likely return to school today, but with the bleeding last night and two doses of narcotic pain meds, I decided it was best to give his body at least one full day to heal before he jumped back into the routine. No Scouts last night, no school today. But he's doing much better and is driving me a little crazy. He's a very needy child when he's the only one home, and it was a challenge yesterday to get my daily chores accomplished.
Several weeks ago, during one of the many appointments with Dr. Harmon (either mine or Dane's), I was working on my Christmas list. Dr. Harmon noticed and casually asked if he and Kathy (his nurse, who's wonderful and has been an incredible help to us) were going to get Christmas presents. I didn't respond immediately.
"There it is," he said. "No response. I guess we know what that means, don't we, Kathy?"
"I'll bring Christmas presents to you," I responded, but not until I had thought it through for a few seconds. While I knew he was just joking with me, I have appreciated his care of me and Dane and thought it would be a nice gesture.
So, yesterday, before running out the door to get Dane to the Surgical Center, I grabbed something for Kathy, several gift tags, a gift bag, tissue paper, and Dr. Harmon's present - three gourmet butters from Hickory Farms (apple, peach, and pumpkin). I prepared their packages in the van on the drive (Don was driving - I wasn't wrapping presents while driving). Dr. Harmon LOVES gourmet foods and often talks cooking with me, once even recommending that he and I start a cooking show together.
"Wouldn't that be something?" he said. "The former Human Resources Generalist, now homemaker, and the Medical Doctor doing a cooking show!"
It would be fun to do something like that, I agreed. Anyhow, I thought the butters were the perfect gift for him and they came in a lovely gold foil box.
Upon arrival, Don and I were trying to figure out how to get the presents upstairs to the offices when Kathy appeared in the Surgical Center. I was delighted and gave both gifts to her. She had come downstairs to speak with Dr. Harmon and, when I saw him next, he was carrying the gift bag. Kathy must have passed it off to him.
"Mrs. Doughty, you shouldn't have," he said.
"It's just a little something to let you know I'm thinking about you, Dr. Harmon," I explained truthfully.
"I'm going to put it under my tree at home to open on Christmas," he told me. "It'll be the only present I have to open on Christmas."
"What!?!" I shrieked, unable to quite comprehend what he was saying. "What do you mean, your 'only present'?"
"We don't do presents anymore," he responded.
Don't "do" presents? I've never heard of such a thing! How could anyone not "do" presents on Christmas? I was absolutely appalled.
Turns out, five years ago, he swore off present-giving and donates a sizeable amount of money each year to a Veterinarian to care for indigent pets in honor of his wife and children. He says he's felt a freedom like never before these last five years.
"Christmas really is Christmas for me," he said, "without any other trappings. I'm able to enjoy Christmas for what it was intended to be."
He must've seen the look on my face (I'm quite sure it was impossible to miss) because he began questioning his decision. I told him a little about how I feel about Christmas. Then I told him I still believe in Santa Claus. After a few seconds of registering surprise, he smiled.
"I guess there really IS a Santa," he said. "After all, the Holy Spirit in each of us is really the spirit of Santa, after all."
"Exactly," I explained. "My children believe that Santa was appointed by God to share his love with the children of earth."
We talked a little more about Christmas and the joy I experience through it.
"Maybe I need to rethink my decision," he said, finally.
"No, no, Dr. Harmon," I said. "To each his own. If your decision brings you peace and joy, then that's exactly what you should do."
While Dane was in the Recovery Room, Dr. Harmon came in and was sitting on a stool at a desk making notes in somebody's file. He glanced over at us, then his eyebrows went up. He grabbed for the gift bag and started unwrapping his present.
"Why are you opening it now?" I asked. "I thought you were going to put it under your tree."
"Well, I decided I wanted to open it when you could see me." I reassured him that it was just a small thing. He opened the package and looked the butters over.
"When I was growing up, I used to make apple butter with my mother." He waxed philosophical for a few moments, then got quiet.
I hope he liked the gift. He seemed to. I had sort of thought of it as something of a gag gift. Not that I didn't think he'd like it, but I gave it sort of to give him a hard time since he had asked me if I was going to give him something. In the end, I really wanted him to like it and wished it had been more. And I think it DID mean something to him.
It's funny how God will turn the tables on you. Anyway, Dane's recovering well and I'm getting a few things done in preparation for Christmas - in my spare time.
Without being able to move past the turbinate, he couldn't see into Dane's sinus'. Dane has been complaining of a lot of pain and was very congested, so Dr. Harmon was afraid he had gotten blocked up with blood and dead tissue that couldn't slough off and there was some concern that his sinus' weren't able to heal. He decided he HAD to put Dane back under, remove the scar tissue, clean up the surgical area, and take a good look at his progress.
It was only going to be a 10-minute procedure, but it meant going back under anesthesia which is the biggest risk, anyway, and all the pre-op preparation.
Dane's fine. Turns out, there wasn't any problem with the sinus'. They're healing just fine and the doctor didn't see any accumulation of anything. He removed the scar tissue and put some cellulose packing around the turbinate to keep it from re-adhering.
Dane had some bleeding and some pain yesterday but is much better today. The doctor thought he could likely return to school today, but with the bleeding last night and two doses of narcotic pain meds, I decided it was best to give his body at least one full day to heal before he jumped back into the routine. No Scouts last night, no school today. But he's doing much better and is driving me a little crazy. He's a very needy child when he's the only one home, and it was a challenge yesterday to get my daily chores accomplished.
Several weeks ago, during one of the many appointments with Dr. Harmon (either mine or Dane's), I was working on my Christmas list. Dr. Harmon noticed and casually asked if he and Kathy (his nurse, who's wonderful and has been an incredible help to us) were going to get Christmas presents. I didn't respond immediately.
"There it is," he said. "No response. I guess we know what that means, don't we, Kathy?"
"I'll bring Christmas presents to you," I responded, but not until I had thought it through for a few seconds. While I knew he was just joking with me, I have appreciated his care of me and Dane and thought it would be a nice gesture.
So, yesterday, before running out the door to get Dane to the Surgical Center, I grabbed something for Kathy, several gift tags, a gift bag, tissue paper, and Dr. Harmon's present - three gourmet butters from Hickory Farms (apple, peach, and pumpkin). I prepared their packages in the van on the drive (Don was driving - I wasn't wrapping presents while driving). Dr. Harmon LOVES gourmet foods and often talks cooking with me, once even recommending that he and I start a cooking show together.
"Wouldn't that be something?" he said. "The former Human Resources Generalist, now homemaker, and the Medical Doctor doing a cooking show!"
It would be fun to do something like that, I agreed. Anyhow, I thought the butters were the perfect gift for him and they came in a lovely gold foil box.
Upon arrival, Don and I were trying to figure out how to get the presents upstairs to the offices when Kathy appeared in the Surgical Center. I was delighted and gave both gifts to her. She had come downstairs to speak with Dr. Harmon and, when I saw him next, he was carrying the gift bag. Kathy must have passed it off to him.
"Mrs. Doughty, you shouldn't have," he said.
"It's just a little something to let you know I'm thinking about you, Dr. Harmon," I explained truthfully.
"I'm going to put it under my tree at home to open on Christmas," he told me. "It'll be the only present I have to open on Christmas."
"What!?!" I shrieked, unable to quite comprehend what he was saying. "What do you mean, your 'only present'?"
"We don't do presents anymore," he responded.
Don't "do" presents? I've never heard of such a thing! How could anyone not "do" presents on Christmas? I was absolutely appalled.
Turns out, five years ago, he swore off present-giving and donates a sizeable amount of money each year to a Veterinarian to care for indigent pets in honor of his wife and children. He says he's felt a freedom like never before these last five years.
"Christmas really is Christmas for me," he said, "without any other trappings. I'm able to enjoy Christmas for what it was intended to be."
He must've seen the look on my face (I'm quite sure it was impossible to miss) because he began questioning his decision. I told him a little about how I feel about Christmas. Then I told him I still believe in Santa Claus. After a few seconds of registering surprise, he smiled.
"I guess there really IS a Santa," he said. "After all, the Holy Spirit in each of us is really the spirit of Santa, after all."
"Exactly," I explained. "My children believe that Santa was appointed by God to share his love with the children of earth."
We talked a little more about Christmas and the joy I experience through it.
"Maybe I need to rethink my decision," he said, finally.
"No, no, Dr. Harmon," I said. "To each his own. If your decision brings you peace and joy, then that's exactly what you should do."
While Dane was in the Recovery Room, Dr. Harmon came in and was sitting on a stool at a desk making notes in somebody's file. He glanced over at us, then his eyebrows went up. He grabbed for the gift bag and started unwrapping his present.
"Why are you opening it now?" I asked. "I thought you were going to put it under your tree."
"Well, I decided I wanted to open it when you could see me." I reassured him that it was just a small thing. He opened the package and looked the butters over.
"When I was growing up, I used to make apple butter with my mother." He waxed philosophical for a few moments, then got quiet.
I hope he liked the gift. He seemed to. I had sort of thought of it as something of a gag gift. Not that I didn't think he'd like it, but I gave it sort of to give him a hard time since he had asked me if I was going to give him something. In the end, I really wanted him to like it and wished it had been more. And I think it DID mean something to him.
It's funny how God will turn the tables on you. Anyway, Dane's recovering well and I'm getting a few things done in preparation for Christmas - in my spare time.
Friday, December 12, 2008
I'd Prefer a Different Kind of Snuggling, If You Please
I was reading a friend's Facebook Wall last night and it reminded me of a story. She said her son will be keeping his class' lizard over the holidays. Here's my story.
When I was a young teenager, probably about 13 or 14, my parents took me to visit my Aunt (my father's oldest sister and one of my absolute most favorite people in the world, who is now deceased) who was living in Oklahoma City at the time. She had two sons - Larry, who is the same age as my only brother, and Randy, who's a couple years older than me. My siblings and I were always very close to these two cousins but we hadn't seen each other in years.
When we arrived, my Aunt told me that Randy would be giving up his bedroom for me. It was very big with a huge bed. My older cousin, Larry, had graduated from high school and was working strange hours, so he needed to keep his own room. Randy told me he was sleeping on the couch but would be hanging out in his room, if that was okay with me. I was thrilled with the thought of being able to hang out with one of my fav cousins in his room.
Randy worked at an Exotic Pet Store. He had several aquariums, one with fish that are now illegal to sell in the U.S., and a terrarium that was home to a VERY large, very spoiled iguana. While the iguana gave me the eebie-geebies (chills went up and down my spine everytime I got close enough to the terrarium to see him), I didn't want to let on to Randy. I participated in the conversation about how "cool" this horny, ugly creature was, nodding and smiling, doing my best to convince Randy that I, too, was "cool".
During the night, I rolled over in that huge bed and felt something underneath my chest. I threw back the covers and, yes, you guessed it, a VERY large iguana was snuggled close to me. I shrieked, jumped out of bed, and threw back the covers. Randy came on the run, assessed the situation (which included me hanging from the ceiling fan whimpering and biting my nails and the iguana, who had crawled up onto my pillow, standing still and erect), and yelled,
"Be quiet, Patti. You're scaring him!"
"Scaring HIM?!?!?!" I shrieked at him. Suddenly, he no longer was my favorite cousin. "What about me?"
"Did I forget to tell you that I leave the terrarium lid cracked at night 'cause he gets cold and likes to climb out and get in bed with me? He's a great snuggler!"
Randy was promptly moved back into his room with the "great snuggler" and I moved to the much safer living room couch. I'll never forget the fear of feeling those spiny, poky things in my chest and realizing what it was. "He gets cold at night?" He'd be much colder if he snuggled me one more time.
When I was a young teenager, probably about 13 or 14, my parents took me to visit my Aunt (my father's oldest sister and one of my absolute most favorite people in the world, who is now deceased) who was living in Oklahoma City at the time. She had two sons - Larry, who is the same age as my only brother, and Randy, who's a couple years older than me. My siblings and I were always very close to these two cousins but we hadn't seen each other in years.
When we arrived, my Aunt told me that Randy would be giving up his bedroom for me. It was very big with a huge bed. My older cousin, Larry, had graduated from high school and was working strange hours, so he needed to keep his own room. Randy told me he was sleeping on the couch but would be hanging out in his room, if that was okay with me. I was thrilled with the thought of being able to hang out with one of my fav cousins in his room.
Randy worked at an Exotic Pet Store. He had several aquariums, one with fish that are now illegal to sell in the U.S., and a terrarium that was home to a VERY large, very spoiled iguana. While the iguana gave me the eebie-geebies (chills went up and down my spine everytime I got close enough to the terrarium to see him), I didn't want to let on to Randy. I participated in the conversation about how "cool" this horny, ugly creature was, nodding and smiling, doing my best to convince Randy that I, too, was "cool".
During the night, I rolled over in that huge bed and felt something underneath my chest. I threw back the covers and, yes, you guessed it, a VERY large iguana was snuggled close to me. I shrieked, jumped out of bed, and threw back the covers. Randy came on the run, assessed the situation (which included me hanging from the ceiling fan whimpering and biting my nails and the iguana, who had crawled up onto my pillow, standing still and erect), and yelled,
"Be quiet, Patti. You're scaring him!"
"Scaring HIM?!?!?!" I shrieked at him. Suddenly, he no longer was my favorite cousin. "What about me?"
"Did I forget to tell you that I leave the terrarium lid cracked at night 'cause he gets cold and likes to climb out and get in bed with me? He's a great snuggler!"
Randy was promptly moved back into his room with the "great snuggler" and I moved to the much safer living room couch. I'll never forget the fear of feeling those spiny, poky things in my chest and realizing what it was. "He gets cold at night?" He'd be much colder if he snuggled me one more time.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Far Too Young to Know This
Last night was the Church Christmas Program. We had dinner first, then the adults moved into the Sanctuary for a Sing-along while we prepared and costumed the children. We had about an hour of adult carol singing before we got the o.k. to bring in the kids.
Meanwhile, in the Fellowship Hall, we were trying to keep 40 or so kids occupied and uncrumpled. I had 12 angels and shepherds between the ages of 4 and 6. Keeping them from bending wings and losing halos was quite a challenge.
We sent a Scout into the Sanctuary to check on the Sing-along progress. The Scout returned with bad news. Twenty more minutes. Our Children's Ministries Director fell back to her Plan B, which was her Ace in the Hole in case the video she had brought along finished too early.
"Whose name begins with a 'B'?" she asked. A couple of hands went up. "Think of a word that has something to do with Christmas that begins with a 'B'," she said.
The children who had raised their hands began to yell out, "Bells . . . " and other Christmas-related "B" words, which I can't now seem to remember.
From the water fountain at the end of the room, a boy yelled, "What about 'A'?"
"I'll get to 'A' in a minute, Adam," she yelled back. "But for now, whose name begins with a 'C'?"
She managed to get through "D" (for which we couldn't really think of anything) before having to return to "A".
"Alright," she called above the din, "whose name begins with 'A'?"
Alexandra and Adam raised their hands.
"Alexandra, what about you," she asked. Alexandra looked puzzled. "What about those things behind you?" the Children's Ministries Director prompted, pointing at the costumed angels standing directly behind her.
"Oh, yeah," Alexandra responded. "Angels!"
"What about you, Adam?"
Adam looked stumped. So did everyone else in the room. No one could come up with any other Christmas item that began with an "A".
Finally, from one little girl sitting in the middle of one of the tables, came this response:
"What about 'afterbirth'?"
Meanwhile, in the Fellowship Hall, we were trying to keep 40 or so kids occupied and uncrumpled. I had 12 angels and shepherds between the ages of 4 and 6. Keeping them from bending wings and losing halos was quite a challenge.
We sent a Scout into the Sanctuary to check on the Sing-along progress. The Scout returned with bad news. Twenty more minutes. Our Children's Ministries Director fell back to her Plan B, which was her Ace in the Hole in case the video she had brought along finished too early.
"Whose name begins with a 'B'?" she asked. A couple of hands went up. "Think of a word that has something to do with Christmas that begins with a 'B'," she said.
The children who had raised their hands began to yell out, "Bells . . . " and other Christmas-related "B" words, which I can't now seem to remember.
From the water fountain at the end of the room, a boy yelled, "What about 'A'?"
"I'll get to 'A' in a minute, Adam," she yelled back. "But for now, whose name begins with a 'C'?"
She managed to get through "D" (for which we couldn't really think of anything) before having to return to "A".
"Alright," she called above the din, "whose name begins with 'A'?"
Alexandra and Adam raised their hands.
"Alexandra, what about you," she asked. Alexandra looked puzzled. "What about those things behind you?" the Children's Ministries Director prompted, pointing at the costumed angels standing directly behind her.
"Oh, yeah," Alexandra responded. "Angels!"
"What about you, Adam?"
Adam looked stumped. So did everyone else in the room. No one could come up with any other Christmas item that began with an "A".
Finally, from one little girl sitting in the middle of one of the tables, came this response:
"What about 'afterbirth'?"
Drink it up anyway!
When we were in England, the children discovered exotic juices. They fell in love with mango, papaya, etc. Upon our return, they really wanted to continue drinking juice but "none 'a that yucky stuff". We finally found a line of refrigerated juices from Welch's. I buy one half gallon per week and try to vary the flavor. This week's installment is Passion Fruit.
Because it costs roughly as much as our monthly mortgage, I use small juice glasses with their breakfast. I poured their glasses this morning, then herded over them to be certain every drop was consumed. When Daelyn still had half a glass left and it was almost time to walk out the door to school, I prompted him to finish up.
"I can't drink anymore," he said. "I'm full."
"Deanna," I asked, "could you please finish up your brother's juice?" She, being older, understands that Passion Fruit is roughly comparable to liquid gold. She politely took Daelyn's juice glass and started to drink, but not before making an awful face.
"What's THAT all about?" I asked, surprised at the look. Could it be she really didn't like Passion Fruit? "What was that face for?"
"Well, there were two eyelashes in Daelyn's juice."
Because it costs roughly as much as our monthly mortgage, I use small juice glasses with their breakfast. I poured their glasses this morning, then herded over them to be certain every drop was consumed. When Daelyn still had half a glass left and it was almost time to walk out the door to school, I prompted him to finish up.
"I can't drink anymore," he said. "I'm full."
"Deanna," I asked, "could you please finish up your brother's juice?" She, being older, understands that Passion Fruit is roughly comparable to liquid gold. She politely took Daelyn's juice glass and started to drink, but not before making an awful face.
"What's THAT all about?" I asked, surprised at the look. Could it be she really didn't like Passion Fruit? "What was that face for?"
"Well, there were two eyelashes in Daelyn's juice."
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Dane's Sinus'
Dane had his 3-week post-op visit this afternoon. The doctor numbed him, then tried to scope him. His turbinates are adhered to the lateral wall of his nasal passages with scar tissue and he wasn't able to debride and clean up the scabbing and damaged tissue left from surgery. SO . . .
Monday he'll be going back under anesthesia again so they can clean him up without injury or pain to him. The doctor said it should only take about 10 minutes but that this often happens with pediatric patients due to a low pain threshold. He's planning on putting in some cellulose packing and removing the scar tissue so the turbinates can hang free and his sinus' can drain.
He says Dane can go back to school on Tuesday, but he'll need to sleep off the anesthesia on Monday. I think we'll have to play it by ear. Anesthesia takes a toll on the body and no one, not even children, rebound immediately.
Dane's a little shook. He heard some of what the doctor said but didn't understand it and misinterpreted some of it. I explained as simply as I could, but the first episode was very unpleasant and he's not looking forward to the second.
Monday he'll be going back under anesthesia again so they can clean him up without injury or pain to him. The doctor said it should only take about 10 minutes but that this often happens with pediatric patients due to a low pain threshold. He's planning on putting in some cellulose packing and removing the scar tissue so the turbinates can hang free and his sinus' can drain.
He says Dane can go back to school on Tuesday, but he'll need to sleep off the anesthesia on Monday. I think we'll have to play it by ear. Anesthesia takes a toll on the body and no one, not even children, rebound immediately.
Dane's a little shook. He heard some of what the doctor said but didn't understand it and misinterpreted some of it. I explained as simply as I could, but the first episode was very unpleasant and he's not looking forward to the second.
Monday, December 08, 2008
How Do You Measure Success?
After a week of sleepless nights, finally dropping into bed at one a.m., then dreaming fitfully and rising again before six, working all day Friday into the late night (with children in tow) and then back up at it again on Saturday to finish all the preparations for the Silent Auctions, it seemed to go well.
The question, of course, is "Is it worth it?" I'm not sure we can answer that question.
We don't remember for sure what we made off the Auction last year, but we think we have a good idea. If our recollections are correct, we made around $300 less this year. I found that staggering considering the many more hours I've invested and the much larger size of both Auctions, filled with real quality items and gift certificates. Our starting inventory this year was certainly way more than we started with last year.
I was discouraged by that and mentioned it to an older male friend. His response?
"That's remarkable, to be only $300 off last year's total!" When he saw the look on my face, he added,
"Patti, do you know how bad things are out there? Unemployment is at a many-year high. Things are REALLY bad out there. To even come close to last year's take is REMARKABLE. We're in a VERY bad recession." Later, my father told me that hundreds of thousands of people are losing their jobs daily.
So, was the Auction a success? I think we have to look beyond the dollar amount (although it seems others think that's quite a successful number) and see some of the stories.
We had an item for a one-hour consultation with a therapist from an organization called "Egoscue". It's a physical therapy method based in Atlanta that has had overwhelming success for people with all types of injuries facing surgery. The bidding on this item spilled over onto a second page and, within the last five minutes, one woman was hovering near it, watchfully making sure she was the final bidder. Obviously, she WANTED that gift certificate.
There were many items that had heavy bidding. There were also some items with almost no bids. One of them was a beautiful couch and matching sleeper loveseat. The truth is, the fabric was a little less than attractive, but the furniture was solid, unbelieveably comfortable, extremely well-made, and in fabulous shape. With a few whispered words, the couch was purchased for someone else, as a gift, and a huge need got met in a wonderful, only-God could've done way.
Another item had a minimum bid. It got NO bids, at all. After all was done and said Saturday night, Don brought it to my attention. We had been given permission by the owners to lower the minimum bid, but no one had caught it, so the item hadn't sold. However, written across the side of the Bid Sheet was a note from someone saying they really wanted the item and how much they were able to pay for it. The amount they could pay was the amount to which I would have lowered the bid, had I caught it in time. Don called the individual and told her and she explained that she desperately has needed that item and hadn't been able to afford it. She was thrilled to be the successful bidder.
Then there were our many friends who just stayed at our sides. The mothers who took their children home, fed them, then returned to help us, without being assigned to the Work List or even being asked. They just showed up to help. And I can't even begin to tell you how many of these people there were. At the end of the night Saturday, there were 4 men who stayed with me, Don and the children, literally, until we had locked the gym up and were in our cars. They stuck it out to the last possible moment with us.
The blessings were poured out, many times over. If success is to be measured broadly, more than just in terms of money, the Silent Auction was a resounding success. People were very happy with their purchases. We made a lot of money. There was a ton of fellowshiping and laughter going on around the tables. And we felt deeply the love and commitment of our friends and family.
It's difficult to express in words, without tears, how amazing this experience was for me. Don and I are both exhausted and he was stressed out beyond belief, but the balm of love that was freely poured out on those wounds more than made up for anything we experienced.
The Lord made two promises to me at the beginning of this whole thing: If I would but do what He told me, He would bless it. In fact, He had already gone before me and was waiting there to bless me and others. And, secondly, that I should pray, because He wanted to soften hardened hearts and would soften them if we would pray. He was true to both promises and, time and again, I was astounded by people's generosity in the midst of difficult times.
A Success? Yes, but so much more. A step in growth of love of God and love of man. And a little fun along the way, to boot.
The question, of course, is "Is it worth it?" I'm not sure we can answer that question.
We don't remember for sure what we made off the Auction last year, but we think we have a good idea. If our recollections are correct, we made around $300 less this year. I found that staggering considering the many more hours I've invested and the much larger size of both Auctions, filled with real quality items and gift certificates. Our starting inventory this year was certainly way more than we started with last year.
I was discouraged by that and mentioned it to an older male friend. His response?
"That's remarkable, to be only $300 off last year's total!" When he saw the look on my face, he added,
"Patti, do you know how bad things are out there? Unemployment is at a many-year high. Things are REALLY bad out there. To even come close to last year's take is REMARKABLE. We're in a VERY bad recession." Later, my father told me that hundreds of thousands of people are losing their jobs daily.
So, was the Auction a success? I think we have to look beyond the dollar amount (although it seems others think that's quite a successful number) and see some of the stories.
We had an item for a one-hour consultation with a therapist from an organization called "Egoscue". It's a physical therapy method based in Atlanta that has had overwhelming success for people with all types of injuries facing surgery. The bidding on this item spilled over onto a second page and, within the last five minutes, one woman was hovering near it, watchfully making sure she was the final bidder. Obviously, she WANTED that gift certificate.
There were many items that had heavy bidding. There were also some items with almost no bids. One of them was a beautiful couch and matching sleeper loveseat. The truth is, the fabric was a little less than attractive, but the furniture was solid, unbelieveably comfortable, extremely well-made, and in fabulous shape. With a few whispered words, the couch was purchased for someone else, as a gift, and a huge need got met in a wonderful, only-God could've done way.
Another item had a minimum bid. It got NO bids, at all. After all was done and said Saturday night, Don brought it to my attention. We had been given permission by the owners to lower the minimum bid, but no one had caught it, so the item hadn't sold. However, written across the side of the Bid Sheet was a note from someone saying they really wanted the item and how much they were able to pay for it. The amount they could pay was the amount to which I would have lowered the bid, had I caught it in time. Don called the individual and told her and she explained that she desperately has needed that item and hadn't been able to afford it. She was thrilled to be the successful bidder.
Then there were our many friends who just stayed at our sides. The mothers who took their children home, fed them, then returned to help us, without being assigned to the Work List or even being asked. They just showed up to help. And I can't even begin to tell you how many of these people there were. At the end of the night Saturday, there were 4 men who stayed with me, Don and the children, literally, until we had locked the gym up and were in our cars. They stuck it out to the last possible moment with us.
The blessings were poured out, many times over. If success is to be measured broadly, more than just in terms of money, the Silent Auction was a resounding success. People were very happy with their purchases. We made a lot of money. There was a ton of fellowshiping and laughter going on around the tables. And we felt deeply the love and commitment of our friends and family.
It's difficult to express in words, without tears, how amazing this experience was for me. Don and I are both exhausted and he was stressed out beyond belief, but the balm of love that was freely poured out on those wounds more than made up for anything we experienced.
The Lord made two promises to me at the beginning of this whole thing: If I would but do what He told me, He would bless it. In fact, He had already gone before me and was waiting there to bless me and others. And, secondly, that I should pray, because He wanted to soften hardened hearts and would soften them if we would pray. He was true to both promises and, time and again, I was astounded by people's generosity in the midst of difficult times.
A Success? Yes, but so much more. A step in growth of love of God and love of man. And a little fun along the way, to boot.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Very near the end . . . of the rope, that is.
It's amazing how children so quickly see through us. They know all the chinks in our armor and are experts at exploiting those chinks. It seems that from the time they're babies in arms, they know when Mommy's preoccupied and they can get away with murder.
That about sums up my week. I've been preoccupied, they've gotten away with murder, or at least not doing chores or homework, not cleaning their rooms, not getting to bed on time, not being kind to each other, just playing, playing, playing. One night, inbetween phone calls, I finally went looking for them, well after dark. They were outside, playing in the yards. I'm sure all the other children were already settled in their warm houses. NOT MINE! Running around like hooligans, dressed for summer in 40 degree weather.
But the Silent Auction is only two days away and then we'll be able to return to some normalcy. Granted, a couple of weeks before Christmas-normalcy, which isn't ever really normal in and of itself. But I'll grasp for straws right now.
Got to do some baking today and keep the house afloat. I can hang on for another two days. Especially if I keep telling myself that I can!
That about sums up my week. I've been preoccupied, they've gotten away with murder, or at least not doing chores or homework, not cleaning their rooms, not getting to bed on time, not being kind to each other, just playing, playing, playing. One night, inbetween phone calls, I finally went looking for them, well after dark. They were outside, playing in the yards. I'm sure all the other children were already settled in their warm houses. NOT MINE! Running around like hooligans, dressed for summer in 40 degree weather.
But the Silent Auction is only two days away and then we'll be able to return to some normalcy. Granted, a couple of weeks before Christmas-normalcy, which isn't ever really normal in and of itself. But I'll grasp for straws right now.
Got to do some baking today and keep the house afloat. I can hang on for another two days. Especially if I keep telling myself that I can!
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
A Touch of Humor
Daelyn: "What's green and sings?"
Me: "A cricket!"
Daelyn: "Nope!"
Me, realizing this is a joke, not a riddle: "What, son?"
Daelyn, triumphantly: "Elvis Parsley!"
He says he made it up himself. I'm not sure. Usually HIS jokes aren't very funny.
Me: "A cricket!"
Daelyn: "Nope!"
Me, realizing this is a joke, not a riddle: "What, son?"
Daelyn, triumphantly: "Elvis Parsley!"
He says he made it up himself. I'm not sure. Usually HIS jokes aren't very funny.
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Dog Days
The children all had dental appointments this morning so, when I returned home at 10:30, the first order of business was to take Donovan out.
As he was standing on three legs, one hind leg flailing in the air, I was reminded of his puppy days. When we first got him, he was only a few weeks old, tiny, and darling. I fell in love with him the first time I saw him, sitting on the seat of a truck, shivering out of fear. We immediately took to each other and he's been MY dog ever since.
He would squat to go potty when he was a puppy. Eventually, at around 6 months, his male hormones kicked in and he decided he needed to cock a leg. The first few attempts were hilarious.
His first try resulted in him falling over sideways. He toppled like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Apparently, standing on only 3 legs took some balance, and he didn't quite have it yet.
His second attempt, he sidled up too close to the tree and, when he lifted his leg, banged his knee into the trunk. He stumbled around, nursing the knee. If he had been human, he would have been yelling, "Ouch, ouch, ouch!"
It got so that we all would go out, as a family, to watch his attempts at tinkling like a "big dog". We were very entertained. He was hilarious. He finally figured it all out.
Anyway, who knew that dogs could be so much fun. At least, ours.
As he was standing on three legs, one hind leg flailing in the air, I was reminded of his puppy days. When we first got him, he was only a few weeks old, tiny, and darling. I fell in love with him the first time I saw him, sitting on the seat of a truck, shivering out of fear. We immediately took to each other and he's been MY dog ever since.
He would squat to go potty when he was a puppy. Eventually, at around 6 months, his male hormones kicked in and he decided he needed to cock a leg. The first few attempts were hilarious.
His first try resulted in him falling over sideways. He toppled like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Apparently, standing on only 3 legs took some balance, and he didn't quite have it yet.
His second attempt, he sidled up too close to the tree and, when he lifted his leg, banged his knee into the trunk. He stumbled around, nursing the knee. If he had been human, he would have been yelling, "Ouch, ouch, ouch!"
It got so that we all would go out, as a family, to watch his attempts at tinkling like a "big dog". We were very entertained. He was hilarious. He finally figured it all out.
Anyway, who knew that dogs could be so much fun. At least, ours.
Monday, December 01, 2008
Advent is on our Doorstep
No time this week for dilly-dallying, or for the next 3 weeks, actually. Over the weekend, I needed to make out menus for the next month and do the grocery list for the next week so Don could do the shopping, so we sat down with our calendars to plan December.
This week is the lull before the storm, and I'd better make good use of it. The Silent Auction is this Saturday and there's lots to do to prepare, but the evening this week shouldn't be TOO bad. However, starting Friday, with the set-up for the Auction (picking up large items, staging them at the Auction Site, finishing all the last minute paperwork and signage . . . ), the Auctions themselves on Saturday (two; one in the am, one in the pm), then a dress rehearsal on Sunday after church and Sunday School for the Christmas Program. Monday night I believe we can take a deep breath in preparation for "The Plunge": Tuesday night, a party; Wednesday night, the Church Program; Thursday night, the School Program; Friday afternoon, we get our tree; Friday night, the Church Adult Party; Saturday, our Tree Decorating Party . . .
However, there's a light at the end of the tunnel. It seems like everything is falling during the same week this year. Then we're done and can relax and finish our preparations for Christmas and going to West Virginia.
I've also made a decision to Fast from Blogger and Facebook on Thursdays as well as social e-mails. If it's work-related, such as getting announcements in the Church bulletin, etc., I'll use e-mail, but not for anything social-related.
On Wednesday, as we were preparing for Thanksgiving, I decided I needed some music in the kitchen. Deanna's portable CD player that Don's sister gave her several years ago for her birthday was on the bureau in the dining room with two speakers attached. Deanna and I searched and searched for Praise Strings, but couldn't find it. We settled for Manheim Steamroller and Kenny G. and one on her CD player. When the CD was finished, I carefully removed it and put in the next one. After several hours, I realized there wasn't any music playing, but was tired of having to change out the CD's so often.
During dinner on Thursday, I turned the music on again. About mid-way through dinner, Deanna asked,
"What's that, Mama? I don't recognize that music."
I listened carefully. It wasn't either of the CD's I had picked. In fact, it was Amy Grant's Christmas Album.
I looked across the table at Don.
"Did you put another CD on?" I asked. He grinned at me. Suddenly, Deanna shouted,
"Oh, yeah, that's MY CD player from Aunt Sue!" as if I would know what that meant.
Turns out, this CD player has memory and Don had stored a number of discs on it last year at Christmas. It must hold several hours of music.
We had a lovely meal and didn't have to change out CD's once. So, I'm all set to turn up the music, pull out the broom, and begin preparing the house for Christmas. Then there's wrapping to do.
This week is the lull before the storm, and I'd better make good use of it. The Silent Auction is this Saturday and there's lots to do to prepare, but the evening this week shouldn't be TOO bad. However, starting Friday, with the set-up for the Auction (picking up large items, staging them at the Auction Site, finishing all the last minute paperwork and signage . . . ), the Auctions themselves on Saturday (two; one in the am, one in the pm), then a dress rehearsal on Sunday after church and Sunday School for the Christmas Program. Monday night I believe we can take a deep breath in preparation for "The Plunge": Tuesday night, a party; Wednesday night, the Church Program; Thursday night, the School Program; Friday afternoon, we get our tree; Friday night, the Church Adult Party; Saturday, our Tree Decorating Party . . .
However, there's a light at the end of the tunnel. It seems like everything is falling during the same week this year. Then we're done and can relax and finish our preparations for Christmas and going to West Virginia.
I've also made a decision to Fast from Blogger and Facebook on Thursdays as well as social e-mails. If it's work-related, such as getting announcements in the Church bulletin, etc., I'll use e-mail, but not for anything social-related.
On Wednesday, as we were preparing for Thanksgiving, I decided I needed some music in the kitchen. Deanna's portable CD player that Don's sister gave her several years ago for her birthday was on the bureau in the dining room with two speakers attached. Deanna and I searched and searched for Praise Strings, but couldn't find it. We settled for Manheim Steamroller and Kenny G. and one on her CD player. When the CD was finished, I carefully removed it and put in the next one. After several hours, I realized there wasn't any music playing, but was tired of having to change out the CD's so often.
During dinner on Thursday, I turned the music on again. About mid-way through dinner, Deanna asked,
"What's that, Mama? I don't recognize that music."
I listened carefully. It wasn't either of the CD's I had picked. In fact, it was Amy Grant's Christmas Album.
I looked across the table at Don.
"Did you put another CD on?" I asked. He grinned at me. Suddenly, Deanna shouted,
"Oh, yeah, that's MY CD player from Aunt Sue!" as if I would know what that meant.
Turns out, this CD player has memory and Don had stored a number of discs on it last year at Christmas. It must hold several hours of music.
We had a lovely meal and didn't have to change out CD's once. So, I'm all set to turn up the music, pull out the broom, and begin preparing the house for Christmas. Then there's wrapping to do.
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