- We had a pleasant visit with Aunt Dot and Uncle Bob (Don's mom's sister and her husband), and with Auntie Lorrie, Don's sister. They arrived from PA on Saturday and left after church on Sunday. Before leaving, Uncle Bob told me three times that I had my hands full. LOL
Uncle Bob is a character. He watched Penn State football on Saturday, yelling out a number of times "Go Penn State!" My kids got a kick out of that. When Daddy watches Penn State, he yells out, exasperated, "Would you just go for the touchdown, Joe?" When Joe Paterno doesn't go for the touchdown and they kick a field goal instead, my honey yells out, "Play to win, Joe! What's the matter with you! Time to retire already!" (Coach Paterno is in his eighties.)
- We paid a car insurance bill last week with no time to spare. It was either pay the bill or have grocery money for another week. Those were our choices. We paid the insurance bill, since it would be expensive to try and reinstate the policy. Two days later, our church called to ask if we wanted a Thanksgiving basket. We were blessed that they called, and assumed it would be Thanksgiving fixings. But it was all that AND extra groceries. God's timing is amazing! You really can have faith in what Matthew 6 tells us:
25"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? 26Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life[b]?
28"And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? 31So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' 32For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
- Aunt Dot and Uncle Bob had some legal-size computer paper cluttering their tiny house, so they brought it to my children, along with Christmas presents. My boys have written three cute stories with that paper already! The writing bug has hit them! Who knew that legal-size computer paper was all I needed to get their literary juices flowing? What a blessing!
- Daniel loves therapy! His therapist is gentle, kind and young. She is working at the facility as an intern. Yesterday the two of us worked with Daniel to write out steps to take over the next two months that will gradually help him face his separation anxiety. The first step was that for half of yesterday's appointment time I sat in a chair outside her office, rather than next to Daniel IN her office. While I sat out there with the door closed, they played Uno to help Daniel relax. He told me later that he felt like crying at first, but he didn't. I'm not sure he was exactly relaxed, but it was a big step nonetheless. During his next appointment I will sit outside the office for the whole appointment, then two weeks later I will leave briefly to get something from the van, and then two weeks after that I will hopefully be able to wait in the waiting room. Baby steps. Just dropping his ADHD med has helped a great deal with his anxiety.
That's all for today. Anna Grace is now awake.
Happy Thanksgiving, Friends!
Showing posts with label extended family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label extended family. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
a life story
I'm still working on this life story piece, but here is an updated version. A few more details were given to me by my sister-in-law, during her recent visit.
___________________________________________________
Don's mom was outside chatting with her neighbors and snapping beans one summer night, many years ago. The neighbor's teenager had just obtained a used motorcycle. Half jokingly, he offered her a ride. Don's mother, a fun-loving, relaxed woman, accepted the invitation. Putting her beans on the stove first, she joined him for a quick ride down their rural Delaware road.
Several hours later, Don, age 16, and his sister, Lorrie, age 13, went to the morgue.....to identify their mother's body--her head having been crushed by a semi-truck.
I can't imagine all the ways my husband had to grew up, on that fateful summer night.
There are so many questions I have about my husband's childhood. What was he like as a boy? Did he catch insects for hours, in the woods behind their home? Did he come running up to his mother, salamander in hand, with the same passion I see in my own son? I think yes. He was known to ice skate on frozen ponds in the woods, alone, after dark. Was he a daring lad?
Don's was a much different upbringing than mine. His parents were Christians. After high school, Janet, his mother, obtained a Bible College degree and worked as a missionary in the Appalachian mountains, until she became ill and couldn't return.
At the age of 29, Janet married Luther. Their first child, a daughter afflicted with Down Syndrome, died of pneumonia at 8 months old. Shortly thereafter they had Don, and three years later, they had his sister, Lorrie.
Luther's upbringing was markedly different from Janet's stable one. His mother, mentally-challenged, was reportedly raped; she gave birth to Luther nine months later. There was never a father in his home, although his uncle made appearances to help care for Luther and his sister.
Luther's sister was also mentally challenged. Although not Down Syndrome, the exact nature of the impairment isn't known. Similarly, nothing is known about Luther's mother's mental impairment.
Luther resided with his mother and sister until his teenage years. At that time he left home of his own accord and lived as a foster son to a farming family. He helped with the farm work and attended the local high school alongside the farmer's children.
Stern and reserved, yet stable, the farmer and his wife provided Luther with the only normalcy he had ever known. Luther has managed to outlive all the farmer's children. They did maintain contact with him for many decades, however. While not their equal, he was part of their family.
Luther's mother was hurt by his leaving home, and I don't believe there was much contact after his departure. Don and I learned from one of the farmer's children, with whom we've visited twice, (he died two years ago) that Luther's sister spent her adult years in a mental institution. It 's not known if she's still living.
As a married man Luther worked in a paper factory. His first love was car mechanics, but he switched jobs due to his wife's dislike of his dirty appearance. Usually in a bad mood due to severe allergy symptoms (paper allergy, ironically), he came home from work and went directly to the garage, where he tinkered with old engines and appliances.
Luther was always impatient and short-tempered with his son, who did not share his dad's talent or interest in working with his hands. Deemed lazy by his father, Don suffered frequent spankings.
Luther was a very controlling, stern husband, as well. Extremely frugal, he went on grocery shopping trips with Don's mother to prevent her from spending extra money. She couldn't even buy tea. There is currently a considerable sum of money in Luther's bank account, so his frugality paid off for him, at least in his golden years. Still, he would rather eat baked beans than waste his money on real dinners. I guess I have to highly recommend baked beans; at 86, Luther's only health problems are arthritis and gout.
Luther's marriage suffered for obvious reasons, although Don and Lorrie both note that their mother adhered to Biblical submission. Janet certainly had ideas of her own, as did her own mother and her three sisters. Janet's mother was known for her independence, in fact--much to Luther's distaste. He disliked visiting his wife's family, who resided within a couple hours of the Pennsylvania home Don enjoyed until his late elementary years. They then moved to rural Delaware, resulting in Janet's being isolated from her family.
There is evidence that Janet was traditionally minded in her own right. Lorrie remembers asking her mother once why Don wasn't made to clean his room; Lorrie was routinely asked to do so. Janet's answer? Lorrie needed to learn to clean; Don did not.
While Don's mother was very happy with her children, she was an unhappy wife. She had no freedom--not even a driver's license. According to Don's sister, Janet had been contemplating divorce in the months before her death. She was probably conflicted, however, since Luther had never committed adultery. The divorce wouldn't have been Biblical, and I daresay if Janet had planned a divorce, she probably also planned on never remarrying. Her unhappiness was not shared with Don; only Lorrie knew of their mother's discontent. Don's memories are of a happy and fun-loving woman.
After Janet died, their father was angry. Following the funeral, he could only shout, "Now who will do the cooking and the cleaning?!"
While personally devastated, Don and his sister were very happy for their mother. Home with Jesus, she could drink tea to her heart's content. She was free.
We have surmised that, due to his unfortunate upbringing, Don's dad suffered (and still does) from attachment disorder. He knew nothing about love, which explains his bizarre reaction to his wife's tragic death.
Don went away to a Bible College in Iowa two years after his mother's passing. Never again did he reside with his father. And Lorrie, his sister, became a pregnant teen two years after her mother's passing. Her father helped care for her baby while she finished high school. She then married the baby's father and left home, only to divorce twenty years later, after a very unhappy marriage. At 47 she is still single, but she is at peace. Her husband committed adultery multiple times during the marriage, so it's no wonder that Lorrie is content as a single woman. She never had more than the one child, who is now 30. Lorrie currently manages a small health club in PA.
Luther never remarried. Intermittently, he has made efforts toward a relationship with Don and Lorrie. However when there are visits, he is harsh and critical after the first day or so. Despite this, brother and sister have no ill feelings toward their father. You won't detect any anger now--only peace. They know to expect little from him, emotionally or otherwise.
Luther has resided in Florida for many years. Don took the boys to see him in early 2008, after Luther had a hip replacement and was recovering. Lorrie accompanied them and the visit went poorly, presumably because Luther didn't have undivided attention. We haven't heard from him in 18 months; he won't answer his phone. The neighbors on one side, with whom Don has intermittent phone contact, tell us that Luther is physically fine, but emotionally reclusive--not desiring any contact from us, or from other neighbors.
In Luther I see a very juvenile man who wants his own way, much like a small child. Without sufficient love, he failed to grow emotionally, and has remained stunted. I think he was jealous of his wife's love for her children, and also jealous of Don and Lorrie's close sibling relationship. He resented his wife for seeming to forget their first baby, after becoming pregnant with Don. Luther grieved over their baby daughter's death much longer than Janet, or so it seemed to him. He felt like an outsider in his own home, I presume. It seems to me that the love he desperately craved, very much eluded him.
During one of the two times I've seen Luther, I heard him tell Don, "I have learned to be content--no matter my circumstances." Only God could have facilitated that contentment in Luther's otherwise tragic life.
Luther is a man of faith, dedicated to God. He took his family to Baptist churches and raised his children in the faith. His born-again faith began in his late teens or early twenties. While the farmer and his wife were church-goers, they didn't have any saving faith to model for Luther; there was only the consistency of non-evangelical, Lutheran church attendance. How the Gospel penetrated Luther's heart is unknown. Of course it was divine, but the source of any earthly influence is unknown. There is much, in fact, that Don and Lorrie don't know about Luther's life.
One would think that Don would be poorly equipped for parenting, given the daily, unloving paternal example. And one would think he would be poorly equipped for marriage, for the same reason.
But the thing is, Don is a better husband and father than any man I know. The Lord wanted it to be so. The Lord poured into Don, what Luther couldn't. And Janet, Don's mother, must have been an amazing woman. Her love covered over a multitude of sins.
I wish so much to have known her. My heart is full of gratitude for her selfless mothering! And I wish so much that my children could have her in their midst, so that she could take them for walks in the woods--the same way she did frequently with Don and Lorrie, when they were little.
Luther is not likely to live much longer. My prayer is that Jesus would pour love into him, in Luther's last days, so that Luther would be compelled to pick up the phone and call Don. And say, for the first time, "I love you, Son. I'm proud of you."
Please join me in prayer for Luther.
As an aspiring writer, I am driven by a love for the written word, and by timeless depictions of the human condition. I don't know if I have any fiction in me, but if I ever start a novel, I will surely begin here. There is so much in this story.
___________________________________________________
Don's mom was outside chatting with her neighbors and snapping beans one summer night, many years ago. The neighbor's teenager had just obtained a used motorcycle. Half jokingly, he offered her a ride. Don's mother, a fun-loving, relaxed woman, accepted the invitation. Putting her beans on the stove first, she joined him for a quick ride down their rural Delaware road.
Several hours later, Don, age 16, and his sister, Lorrie, age 13, went to the morgue.....to identify their mother's body--her head having been crushed by a semi-truck.
I can't imagine all the ways my husband had to grew up, on that fateful summer night.
There are so many questions I have about my husband's childhood. What was he like as a boy? Did he catch insects for hours, in the woods behind their home? Did he come running up to his mother, salamander in hand, with the same passion I see in my own son? I think yes. He was known to ice skate on frozen ponds in the woods, alone, after dark. Was he a daring lad?
Don's was a much different upbringing than mine. His parents were Christians. After high school, Janet, his mother, obtained a Bible College degree and worked as a missionary in the Appalachian mountains, until she became ill and couldn't return.
At the age of 29, Janet married Luther. Their first child, a daughter afflicted with Down Syndrome, died of pneumonia at 8 months old. Shortly thereafter they had Don, and three years later, they had his sister, Lorrie.
Luther's upbringing was markedly different from Janet's stable one. His mother, mentally-challenged, was reportedly raped; she gave birth to Luther nine months later. There was never a father in his home, although his uncle made appearances to help care for Luther and his sister.
Luther's sister was also mentally challenged. Although not Down Syndrome, the exact nature of the impairment isn't known. Similarly, nothing is known about Luther's mother's mental impairment.
Luther resided with his mother and sister until his teenage years. At that time he left home of his own accord and lived as a foster son to a farming family. He helped with the farm work and attended the local high school alongside the farmer's children.
Stern and reserved, yet stable, the farmer and his wife provided Luther with the only normalcy he had ever known. Luther has managed to outlive all the farmer's children. They did maintain contact with him for many decades, however. While not their equal, he was part of their family.
Luther's mother was hurt by his leaving home, and I don't believe there was much contact after his departure. Don and I learned from one of the farmer's children, with whom we've visited twice, (he died two years ago) that Luther's sister spent her adult years in a mental institution. It 's not known if she's still living.
As a married man Luther worked in a paper factory. His first love was car mechanics, but he switched jobs due to his wife's dislike of his dirty appearance. Usually in a bad mood due to severe allergy symptoms (paper allergy, ironically), he came home from work and went directly to the garage, where he tinkered with old engines and appliances.
Luther was always impatient and short-tempered with his son, who did not share his dad's talent or interest in working with his hands. Deemed lazy by his father, Don suffered frequent spankings.
Luther was a very controlling, stern husband, as well. Extremely frugal, he went on grocery shopping trips with Don's mother to prevent her from spending extra money. She couldn't even buy tea. There is currently a considerable sum of money in Luther's bank account, so his frugality paid off for him, at least in his golden years. Still, he would rather eat baked beans than waste his money on real dinners. I guess I have to highly recommend baked beans; at 86, Luther's only health problems are arthritis and gout.
Luther's marriage suffered for obvious reasons, although Don and Lorrie both note that their mother adhered to Biblical submission. Janet certainly had ideas of her own, as did her own mother and her three sisters. Janet's mother was known for her independence, in fact--much to Luther's distaste. He disliked visiting his wife's family, who resided within a couple hours of the Pennsylvania home Don enjoyed until his late elementary years. They then moved to rural Delaware, resulting in Janet's being isolated from her family.
There is evidence that Janet was traditionally minded in her own right. Lorrie remembers asking her mother once why Don wasn't made to clean his room; Lorrie was routinely asked to do so. Janet's answer? Lorrie needed to learn to clean; Don did not.
While Don's mother was very happy with her children, she was an unhappy wife. She had no freedom--not even a driver's license. According to Don's sister, Janet had been contemplating divorce in the months before her death. She was probably conflicted, however, since Luther had never committed adultery. The divorce wouldn't have been Biblical, and I daresay if Janet had planned a divorce, she probably also planned on never remarrying. Her unhappiness was not shared with Don; only Lorrie knew of their mother's discontent. Don's memories are of a happy and fun-loving woman.
After Janet died, their father was angry. Following the funeral, he could only shout, "Now who will do the cooking and the cleaning?!"
While personally devastated, Don and his sister were very happy for their mother. Home with Jesus, she could drink tea to her heart's content. She was free.
We have surmised that, due to his unfortunate upbringing, Don's dad suffered (and still does) from attachment disorder. He knew nothing about love, which explains his bizarre reaction to his wife's tragic death.
Don went away to a Bible College in Iowa two years after his mother's passing. Never again did he reside with his father. And Lorrie, his sister, became a pregnant teen two years after her mother's passing. Her father helped care for her baby while she finished high school. She then married the baby's father and left home, only to divorce twenty years later, after a very unhappy marriage. At 47 she is still single, but she is at peace. Her husband committed adultery multiple times during the marriage, so it's no wonder that Lorrie is content as a single woman. She never had more than the one child, who is now 30. Lorrie currently manages a small health club in PA.
Luther never remarried. Intermittently, he has made efforts toward a relationship with Don and Lorrie. However when there are visits, he is harsh and critical after the first day or so. Despite this, brother and sister have no ill feelings toward their father. You won't detect any anger now--only peace. They know to expect little from him, emotionally or otherwise.
Luther has resided in Florida for many years. Don took the boys to see him in early 2008, after Luther had a hip replacement and was recovering. Lorrie accompanied them and the visit went poorly, presumably because Luther didn't have undivided attention. We haven't heard from him in 18 months; he won't answer his phone. The neighbors on one side, with whom Don has intermittent phone contact, tell us that Luther is physically fine, but emotionally reclusive--not desiring any contact from us, or from other neighbors.
In Luther I see a very juvenile man who wants his own way, much like a small child. Without sufficient love, he failed to grow emotionally, and has remained stunted. I think he was jealous of his wife's love for her children, and also jealous of Don and Lorrie's close sibling relationship. He resented his wife for seeming to forget their first baby, after becoming pregnant with Don. Luther grieved over their baby daughter's death much longer than Janet, or so it seemed to him. He felt like an outsider in his own home, I presume. It seems to me that the love he desperately craved, very much eluded him.
During one of the two times I've seen Luther, I heard him tell Don, "I have learned to be content--no matter my circumstances." Only God could have facilitated that contentment in Luther's otherwise tragic life.
Luther is a man of faith, dedicated to God. He took his family to Baptist churches and raised his children in the faith. His born-again faith began in his late teens or early twenties. While the farmer and his wife were church-goers, they didn't have any saving faith to model for Luther; there was only the consistency of non-evangelical, Lutheran church attendance. How the Gospel penetrated Luther's heart is unknown. Of course it was divine, but the source of any earthly influence is unknown. There is much, in fact, that Don and Lorrie don't know about Luther's life.
One would think that Don would be poorly equipped for parenting, given the daily, unloving paternal example. And one would think he would be poorly equipped for marriage, for the same reason.
But the thing is, Don is a better husband and father than any man I know. The Lord wanted it to be so. The Lord poured into Don, what Luther couldn't. And Janet, Don's mother, must have been an amazing woman. Her love covered over a multitude of sins.
I wish so much to have known her. My heart is full of gratitude for her selfless mothering! And I wish so much that my children could have her in their midst, so that she could take them for walks in the woods--the same way she did frequently with Don and Lorrie, when they were little.
Luther is not likely to live much longer. My prayer is that Jesus would pour love into him, in Luther's last days, so that Luther would be compelled to pick up the phone and call Don. And say, for the first time, "I love you, Son. I'm proud of you."
Please join me in prayer for Luther.
As an aspiring writer, I am driven by a love for the written word, and by timeless depictions of the human condition. I don't know if I have any fiction in me, but if I ever start a novel, I will surely begin here. There is so much in this story.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Outings
Peaches didn't do well in Ohio this year. However, in our county, they did better. We went to this nearby peach and apple farm, which features a yearly, gorgeous community garden. So much feast for the eye. Lots of insects to catch too. You can't tell here, but this garden is huge.
Enjoyed blueberry picking at this spot. July was unusually cool. August is sweltering.
A nice view at the peach and apple farm. They also grow some sweet corn, but not our favorite. Our favorite spot for sweet corn is four minutes from our home. Best corn you'll ever sink your teeth into! You always smile after biting--it's such a delight!
More of the community garden. And my insect-loving Daniel.
Daniel snapped this the other day. It features my dad's 27-year-old wife, a bit of my dad, and Timothy. Yeah, she's young. Yeah, he's 70. What's a daughter to do? I can only go with the flow.
I'm off to make some applesauce with the kiddos. Looks like my teething-torn baby has finally fallen asleep. Her first nap was only 20 minutes--hoping for a normal one this time.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Record your answers!
Something rather miraculous happened last night! And the whole thing made me realize that I need to start recording answers to prayer. Seeing the answers down on paper to reflect on would be so encouraging! I'm willing to bet that many more prayers than I realize DO get "yes" answers.
I have NOT prayed about Anna Grace sleeping through the night. While most formula babies and babies who have cried it out do sleep through the night by six months, it is unusual for a nursing baby to do so. A low percentage of American babies are still nursing after six months, and consequently, any statistic about sleeping through the night the first year is skewed and not really applicable to nursing families. The possibility that Anna might do this just didn't occur to me.
Now, when Emily Rose began to wander the house in the mornings a few days ago, I did lament and whine to my God.
Pam: "Why, oh why can't SOMETHING be easy!!?? How in the world am I going to keep these children safe?? There are so many variables to safety when you have four young children, God! Anna is now sitting, meaning that she sometimes falls into pieces of furniture, which makes her rather mad, and hurt! More than ever, I have to watch her every move. I can't remove the furniture--that's for sure, God. Between the four of them, I'm going out of my mind regarding safety!"
Only after this stellar whining performance did I humble myself to pray about the issue. Unwise order of priorities, I know.
This morning, I awoke to Anna's cries from her crib at 5:37 a.m. I went to get her (crib is in our room), and was confused about why she was in her crib. Then I looked at the clock, and realized that I had put her in the crib at 8:00 p.m. the night before. And then I forced myself to go to bed at 11:30, knowing that I HAD to start doing something about my lack of sleep. Well, as I picked her up, I realized that she had never woken up and nursed in bed with me--the whole night! She actually slept from 8:00 p.m. to 5:37 a.m., and I never heard a peep--even with Don getting back from work and slipping into bed after 3:00 a.m.! He was real pleased (NOT) when in my excitement, I woke him up and said, "Honey, Anna slept through the night!" He opened his eyes briefly to say that the night wasn't over yet.
Now the part about the prayer. Anna felt well rested and would not go back to sleep, even after she nursed and filled her tummy. At 6:20 I took her out to the living room, which means I was up for the day and fully awake when Emily Rose woke up!! God was answering my prayer about keeping Emily safe in the morning, by having Anna sleep through the night! I slept six hours straight, which hasn't occurred in a very long time. (Three hours straight is a good night.) I feel great today, and it was nice to be so alert and happy while I cared for my children this morning.
She may not sleep through the night again for a long time. But today, God encouraged me. He IS listening! And I SHOULD record his answers to my prayers. Currently I'm reading a book about spiritual reformation and it TOO has encouraged me to record not only prayer requests, but also the ANSWERS. Very elementary concept, leading to very powerful results.
Hey Liz, thank you for your comments. I actually do have a stellar diet (high in fiber, low in fat)and looking like the food pyramid. Any health problems for me stem from lack of sleep. Since I am a night person living in an early-morning culture, I've never gotten adequate sleep. It is a matter of self-discipline, and now I MUST do something about it. I will check out the websites you gave, and get the Primrose Oil. I probably won't use any hormone replacement, as my mom had breast cancer (minor lump in early stage) in her mid-sixties, partly from being given hormones when she started perimenopause at 45 years old.
I have NOT prayed about Anna Grace sleeping through the night. While most formula babies and babies who have cried it out do sleep through the night by six months, it is unusual for a nursing baby to do so. A low percentage of American babies are still nursing after six months, and consequently, any statistic about sleeping through the night the first year is skewed and not really applicable to nursing families. The possibility that Anna might do this just didn't occur to me.
Now, when Emily Rose began to wander the house in the mornings a few days ago, I did lament and whine to my God.
Pam: "Why, oh why can't SOMETHING be easy!!?? How in the world am I going to keep these children safe?? There are so many variables to safety when you have four young children, God! Anna is now sitting, meaning that she sometimes falls into pieces of furniture, which makes her rather mad, and hurt! More than ever, I have to watch her every move. I can't remove the furniture--that's for sure, God. Between the four of them, I'm going out of my mind regarding safety!"
Only after this stellar whining performance did I humble myself to pray about the issue. Unwise order of priorities, I know.
This morning, I awoke to Anna's cries from her crib at 5:37 a.m. I went to get her (crib is in our room), and was confused about why she was in her crib. Then I looked at the clock, and realized that I had put her in the crib at 8:00 p.m. the night before. And then I forced myself to go to bed at 11:30, knowing that I HAD to start doing something about my lack of sleep. Well, as I picked her up, I realized that she had never woken up and nursed in bed with me--the whole night! She actually slept from 8:00 p.m. to 5:37 a.m., and I never heard a peep--even with Don getting back from work and slipping into bed after 3:00 a.m.! He was real pleased (NOT) when in my excitement, I woke him up and said, "Honey, Anna slept through the night!" He opened his eyes briefly to say that the night wasn't over yet.
Now the part about the prayer. Anna felt well rested and would not go back to sleep, even after she nursed and filled her tummy. At 6:20 I took her out to the living room, which means I was up for the day and fully awake when Emily Rose woke up!! God was answering my prayer about keeping Emily safe in the morning, by having Anna sleep through the night! I slept six hours straight, which hasn't occurred in a very long time. (Three hours straight is a good night.) I feel great today, and it was nice to be so alert and happy while I cared for my children this morning.
She may not sleep through the night again for a long time. But today, God encouraged me. He IS listening! And I SHOULD record his answers to my prayers. Currently I'm reading a book about spiritual reformation and it TOO has encouraged me to record not only prayer requests, but also the ANSWERS. Very elementary concept, leading to very powerful results.
Hey Liz, thank you for your comments. I actually do have a stellar diet (high in fiber, low in fat)and looking like the food pyramid. Any health problems for me stem from lack of sleep. Since I am a night person living in an early-morning culture, I've never gotten adequate sleep. It is a matter of self-discipline, and now I MUST do something about it. I will check out the websites you gave, and get the Primrose Oil. I probably won't use any hormone replacement, as my mom had breast cancer (minor lump in early stage) in her mid-sixties, partly from being given hormones when she started perimenopause at 45 years old.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Basements, Anxiety and Joy
My Aunt Erma--my dad's sister--was the hostess of the Memorial Day Picnic we attended. She really enjoyed Emily and e-mailed last week asking if Emily could go over there sometime and play. She has a large old dollhouse that Emily really enjoys. So, a playdate was set up for yesterday morning. I was grateful someone was taking an interest in Emily, since she is a middle child and, like Timothy, needs more individual attention.
We don't have a basement, which I find to be a blessing. I hate the smells coming out of basements, and I hate that damp, humid feel. The storage opportunity is nice for reducing clutter, but I'll still take a slab house any day.
My other reason for disliking basements is that I have small children. I know a few people who've fallen down them as children, so my nerves could never take it. Some have doors, but not the ones I've seen since moving here.
Erma's basement in directly in front of the backdoor entrance, which everyone uses. How she raised four children in an 1100 square-foot house and only had one tot fall down the basement steps, I'll never know. My cousin Rick, her oldest, loves the smell of basements. He lives in our desert area of California and comes back a few times a year to visit his Mom and Dad and get a good whiff of their basement. lol Brings back childhood memories for him.
But I digress. Anyhow, Emily went over there yesterday morning to play with Aunt Erma, and I somehow forgot that I was going to bring one of our tension gates. I don't even know if it would have attached properly, but I was going to bring it anyway.
No, Emily did not fall down their basement steps. Thank the Lord for that. But as soon as I dropped her off and drove away, the anxiety started. I began thinking of all the things I love about Emily. Next, I thought of her falling down those steps and never walking again...or dying of a head injury. Similar thoughts have been common for me, dating back to her falls and stitches. The scenes keep coming back to me--the blood, the crying, my panic, the hospital room, her screaming, etc.
As I drove home, I told the Lord I was NOT going to succumb to a panic disorder. So many in my extended family have them, and they reluctantly live with the intrusion in their lives.
I kept fighting the thoughts, all the while wanting to go back and remind Erma to be careful about the basement. She hasn't had two-year-olds in her house in several years, and I thought maybe she wouldn't be used to the pace--to the short time it takes them to get into trouble.
After arriving home, it was time for me to put Anna down. I came in here, put her in the crib, and talked with her a bit while checking e-mail and reading a news story. What news story did I choose? The one about the English couple who lost their five-year-old to meningitis, and then took his body and some of his toys, put them in sacks, drove 100 miles to a cliff, and jumped off of it together, as a whole family, to their deaths. They were a lovely couple, neighbors said--very devoted to their son, who was put on life support after being hit by a car when he was one.
I immediately started crying. What a tragic story! Their hearts were surely broken and they saw no reason to go on. Their son was their whole life. It must have been him they worshipped, and without him, there was no purpose. I know grief can feel like that at times, but a belief in God stops one from jumping off cliffs. I don't know anything else about that family, but I would venture to guess they were not Believers.
And then I thought about my precious Rose, and how devastated and empty I would feel without being able to kiss her lovely face, and her sweet, unruly curls, and enjoy her boundless energy in my midst. I would forever have a picture of her happy-go-lucky personality, running around the house, livening up my world. I can't even imagine the extent of the grief!
But I know I could go on. I know I would feel joy once again, after a long season. I don't worship my kids. I worship my Heavenly Father. He was telling me, by having me click on that particular story, that the worst thing that could happen to Emily Rose, would be survivable. And he assured me that I would still be able to sing songs of joy to Him. I would still love him, despite my grief.
I don't know if this line of thinking will prevent anxiety the next time, but it is helpful to be reminded that my hope is in Christ. My children are his, and he decides how long I get to raise them and love them on this earth.
In lighter news, I did more joy dancing today! The kids are catching on fast. I belt out a song of joy every time an annoyance occurs. It's working. Instead of irritation and ugliness, I choose joy!
Daniel said to me, whilst leaping around with me,"Is there joy in everything?"
Yes. Absolutely. There is. We just have to tap into it. The inner, deep-down joy is always there. The outer joy is a discipline. A habit. A choice.
I once read that it takes 21 days to form a habit. I'll be singing my made-up joy songs for at LEAST the next 20 days. After that, maybe the joy will be so ingrained, I won't even think about getting annoyed. I'll be like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music--twirling around the lawn with my charges, singing my heart out. That scene of them singing up on that hill? Priceless. It's my all-time favorite movie scene.
We don't have a basement, which I find to be a blessing. I hate the smells coming out of basements, and I hate that damp, humid feel. The storage opportunity is nice for reducing clutter, but I'll still take a slab house any day.
My other reason for disliking basements is that I have small children. I know a few people who've fallen down them as children, so my nerves could never take it. Some have doors, but not the ones I've seen since moving here.
Erma's basement in directly in front of the backdoor entrance, which everyone uses. How she raised four children in an 1100 square-foot house and only had one tot fall down the basement steps, I'll never know. My cousin Rick, her oldest, loves the smell of basements. He lives in our desert area of California and comes back a few times a year to visit his Mom and Dad and get a good whiff of their basement. lol Brings back childhood memories for him.
But I digress. Anyhow, Emily went over there yesterday morning to play with Aunt Erma, and I somehow forgot that I was going to bring one of our tension gates. I don't even know if it would have attached properly, but I was going to bring it anyway.
No, Emily did not fall down their basement steps. Thank the Lord for that. But as soon as I dropped her off and drove away, the anxiety started. I began thinking of all the things I love about Emily. Next, I thought of her falling down those steps and never walking again...or dying of a head injury. Similar thoughts have been common for me, dating back to her falls and stitches. The scenes keep coming back to me--the blood, the crying, my panic, the hospital room, her screaming, etc.
As I drove home, I told the Lord I was NOT going to succumb to a panic disorder. So many in my extended family have them, and they reluctantly live with the intrusion in their lives.
I kept fighting the thoughts, all the while wanting to go back and remind Erma to be careful about the basement. She hasn't had two-year-olds in her house in several years, and I thought maybe she wouldn't be used to the pace--to the short time it takes them to get into trouble.
After arriving home, it was time for me to put Anna down. I came in here, put her in the crib, and talked with her a bit while checking e-mail and reading a news story. What news story did I choose? The one about the English couple who lost their five-year-old to meningitis, and then took his body and some of his toys, put them in sacks, drove 100 miles to a cliff, and jumped off of it together, as a whole family, to their deaths. They were a lovely couple, neighbors said--very devoted to their son, who was put on life support after being hit by a car when he was one.
I immediately started crying. What a tragic story! Their hearts were surely broken and they saw no reason to go on. Their son was their whole life. It must have been him they worshipped, and without him, there was no purpose. I know grief can feel like that at times, but a belief in God stops one from jumping off cliffs. I don't know anything else about that family, but I would venture to guess they were not Believers.
And then I thought about my precious Rose, and how devastated and empty I would feel without being able to kiss her lovely face, and her sweet, unruly curls, and enjoy her boundless energy in my midst. I would forever have a picture of her happy-go-lucky personality, running around the house, livening up my world. I can't even imagine the extent of the grief!
But I know I could go on. I know I would feel joy once again, after a long season. I don't worship my kids. I worship my Heavenly Father. He was telling me, by having me click on that particular story, that the worst thing that could happen to Emily Rose, would be survivable. And he assured me that I would still be able to sing songs of joy to Him. I would still love him, despite my grief.
I don't know if this line of thinking will prevent anxiety the next time, but it is helpful to be reminded that my hope is in Christ. My children are his, and he decides how long I get to raise them and love them on this earth.
In lighter news, I did more joy dancing today! The kids are catching on fast. I belt out a song of joy every time an annoyance occurs. It's working. Instead of irritation and ugliness, I choose joy!
Daniel said to me, whilst leaping around with me,"Is there joy in everything?"
Yes. Absolutely. There is. We just have to tap into it. The inner, deep-down joy is always there. The outer joy is a discipline. A habit. A choice.
I once read that it takes 21 days to form a habit. I'll be singing my made-up joy songs for at LEAST the next 20 days. After that, maybe the joy will be so ingrained, I won't even think about getting annoyed. I'll be like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music--twirling around the lawn with my charges, singing my heart out. That scene of them singing up on that hill? Priceless. It's my all-time favorite movie scene.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Memorial Weekend Tidbits
Anna sat in her bouncy seat right in front of me on the table during dinner. It was a wonderful meal for me, since I got to stare at and kiss those wonderful baby feet. Should I take a bite of my chicken, or those cutie-pie feet? lol
Did I mention I love babies? My time is dwindling down fast with Anna Grace, who is already 5.5 months. Savoring every moment.
HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY!
If someone in your family has served in the armed forces, I just want to say THANK YOU! Give your family member a hug from us.
I don't like to ask people for favors. For whatever reason, it's just really hard for me. But last week upon learning that my Uncle Richard (Dorothy's husband) rototilled his garden area, I actually mustered the guts to call and ask if we could borrow the rototill. We have a large garden area and we've never had the time for the labor it entails. We've been settling for a smaller garden for three years. Knowing how blessed the kids would be by a larger one, I knew I had to make the call.
After church on Sunday Richard came over and set to work. He is about 73 years old, but has strong muscles and is in great shape. Nonetheless, when I saw how hard the ground was in some places and how his body skipped forward when the rototill wouldn't penetrate, I was scared to death he was going to end up losing his feet and ankles in a bloody disaster. I can't even describe to you how nervous I was. It took everything I had not to run out there and tell him I changed my mind. He is very macho though and I knew it would irritate him if I said anything.
I get these awful images lately of bloody disasters, dating from Emily's two accidents involving the stitches. No--they aren't panic attacks. But pretty close. Some sort of post-traumatic thingy must be going on in my ever-nervous brain. It will pass I'm sure. Maybe about the time Anna Grace is six or so.
Anyhow, lo and behold, we have a well-tilled garden to work with! We are super excited! Memorial Day is the first day of planting season here in Ohio. Tomorrow the WIA grant stuff gets turned in, and then it's party time with the seeds. I can't wait. I'll get pictures of all the "farm hands". lol
Another blessing this weekend involving a favor had to do with our van's air conditioner. Timothy and I melt in the heat. We just can't hack it. So when the air conditioner slowly started to get warmer in the van, I knew we had to come up with the money to at least have it looked at. No God. Not that! Don't let us melt! Please! Take away my chocolate..whatever..but don't let me melt like the wicked witch!
At the picnic yesterday I asked my Uncle David if his car repair man worked on air conditioners. He asked what our AC was doing. I told him about the gradual warming and he said he would charge it for us. I had no idea what "charging it" meant, but I swallowed my pride and said "I would really appreciate that! Thank you!" And charging it worked! We won't need the repair man after all. Now I'm the nice witch again! Yeah! Timothy is very thankful as well.
Arwen has written a piece on sunscreens (see link below). We were going to go to Walgreens and get the Bullfrog Baby and Neutrogena Sensitive Skin sunscreens--which are very expensive--but which have the non-chemical sunscreen that was recommended last year (zinc oxide). Now, after reading her article, I don't know what to do. The kids have been spending hours outside, and we've been using a Bullfrog tube that is nearly expired. There is a strong family history of skin-cancer lesions, so we can't mess around. What are you going to get, Arwen?
Spors in the Desert: No such thing as a safe sunblock?
Post Script: One of the times Anna was in the crib behind me this weekend, I had a chance to look closer at the Google Analytics for my blog. It was confusing that it kept saying there were around 200 unique visitors this last month. Only two to four people comment, so that just didn't add up. After studying the reports a little better, I figured out that there are only about 30 regular readers, and the rest (173) visitors are from Internet searches. There was an increase in the number of searchers because of the WIA grant.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Memories
This evening we went out for ice cream cones at the same roadside stop my mother frequented back in high school. She was born and raised in this area and gladly left it for California at the age of 20. I knew from my father, also raised here, that the stand had been there many years. I expected nostalgia from my mom, but there was little.
This place - with its fireflies, frogs, toads, and abundant summer insects - delights my boys, but left my mother cold. She fondly remembers the lake she grew up on, with her nine siblings, but when she grew too old for year-round lake fun, she longed for, and dreamed of, the sunny, sandy California beaches.
I grew up near the sunny, sandy, California beaches, and what I longed for, and dreamed of, was the seasons we have here. My heart soared three years ago, and still does, at the sight of abundant, deciduous fall color. Tulip shoots peeking through on the heels of melting snow equally delights me. And the first fireflies, that summer of 2006, will always be a fond, fond memory. My boys never had so much fun, and I never felt so blessed, watching them run around with delight, catching these little lantern-filled bugs.
Behind the ice cream stop is a large field my children (and Daddy) love to run through. The shop opens for business in April and boards up for winter in mid October. It is part of the seasonal rhythm here. The cyclic rhythm that lends itself to memories, and to the gentle passing of time.
As soon as we got out of the van, the older three children took off into the field, not even waiting to order their cones first. Daddy, always a boy at heart, gladly took off running behind them. I held the baby while watching them run through the tall grass, dandelions, and wildflowers. That scene, of my children and husband running through a field of flowers with all abandon and delight, is now firmly imprinted in my head.
Years down the line, when we go for ice cream again one spring, with our teenagers, I will look out into this same field, and imagine them still so young, so full of life, running just like they did today.
Even more years down the line, when we go for ice cream again one spring, I will watch my grandchildren run through this same field of flowers, and remember their mommy or daddy doing the same.
Everything doesn't always have to be new. Old is good too. Old things bring back precious memories.
Somehow the four-times yearly promise of a new season, with all its unique pleasures, and specially-attached memories, makes me feel like my cup is always running over.
I like that.
My children may grow to covet the sunny, sandy, California beaches, but maybe - just maybe - the fireflies will lure them back. Or that flower-filled field at the old ice-cream stop.
This place - with its fireflies, frogs, toads, and abundant summer insects - delights my boys, but left my mother cold. She fondly remembers the lake she grew up on, with her nine siblings, but when she grew too old for year-round lake fun, she longed for, and dreamed of, the sunny, sandy California beaches.
I grew up near the sunny, sandy, California beaches, and what I longed for, and dreamed of, was the seasons we have here. My heart soared three years ago, and still does, at the sight of abundant, deciduous fall color. Tulip shoots peeking through on the heels of melting snow equally delights me. And the first fireflies, that summer of 2006, will always be a fond, fond memory. My boys never had so much fun, and I never felt so blessed, watching them run around with delight, catching these little lantern-filled bugs.
Behind the ice cream stop is a large field my children (and Daddy) love to run through. The shop opens for business in April and boards up for winter in mid October. It is part of the seasonal rhythm here. The cyclic rhythm that lends itself to memories, and to the gentle passing of time.
As soon as we got out of the van, the older three children took off into the field, not even waiting to order their cones first. Daddy, always a boy at heart, gladly took off running behind them. I held the baby while watching them run through the tall grass, dandelions, and wildflowers. That scene, of my children and husband running through a field of flowers with all abandon and delight, is now firmly imprinted in my head.
Years down the line, when we go for ice cream again one spring, with our teenagers, I will look out into this same field, and imagine them still so young, so full of life, running just like they did today.
Even more years down the line, when we go for ice cream again one spring, I will watch my grandchildren run through this same field of flowers, and remember their mommy or daddy doing the same.
Everything doesn't always have to be new. Old is good too. Old things bring back precious memories.
Somehow the four-times yearly promise of a new season, with all its unique pleasures, and specially-attached memories, makes me feel like my cup is always running over.
I like that.
My children may grow to covet the sunny, sandy, California beaches, but maybe - just maybe - the fireflies will lure them back. Or that flower-filled field at the old ice-cream stop.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Ruth and Boaz
So I'm sitting here at the computer, researching college financial aid options, and working on the job-market research Don needs in order to be awarded the WIA grant. We take turns sitting here like a tag team, which incidentally is pretty much how we live our entire lives now - as tag team partners in everything, from holding babies to making meals to bathing kids to finding jobs. Lately, Don hits all the job-search websites, and me the college aid sites; I've heard there are many grant and scholarship options out there, and if one puts in the time, it pays off. The up side of doing this now is that when our kids go to college, we'll know how to hunt down financial aid.
I see everyday that there are reasons our life has taken this turn. One big one that keeps coming to mind is the change of perspective it brings. A paradigm shift in fact, has occurred. Every bit of data that enters my brain lately has to now be processed through my new frame of reference, which explains all these public-policy posts. Bounce out now if you abhor thinking about public policy.
I was a political science major in college, mostly because I was engaged to an attorney and thought I wanted to be one. Although I've never used my degree, I do really love public policy. I changed my mind about becoming a lawyer in my third year of college, and it didn't make sense to change majors at that point. When I learned that my fiance cheated on his taxes, I dumped him. All respect was lost for him, as my eyes opened to all the evidence of his lack of character. I wanted no part of his shady world. He was very funny, which was the initial draw, when I met him at the gym; he was in the aerobics class I taught for a short time during college.
Anyhow, today Miss California was interviewed regarding her answer to the gay marriage question at the Miss America pageant - maybe you saw this tidbit on the news? Among other things, she was asked by the Fox News interviewer how she would have answered the banking question which another contestant was given, regarding the bailouts. Miss California, whose stomach I used to have (hope she enjoys it while she can) responded that she didn't believe we should be bailing out any banks. I agree with that, as does half the country. Then she added, of her own accord, that she doesn't think taxpayer money should go to welfare either.
Remember the story of Ruth and Boaz in the Bible? There was a social system in place that took care of the poor, in the form of stray grain left in the fields after harvest. Farmers weren't supposed to try to get every piece of grain, so that the poor could go through the field after the harvest and gather what was left for their tables. Trouble is, not all the farmers followed this practice. Some wanted to gather as much of the grain as they could, to get richer.
Boaz was a good man and he followed this rule, as well as the kinsman-redeemer rule, which is why he married Ruth, his distant relative, who had lost her husband.
Now, I have a very conservative non-Christian uncle who disdains all handouts - even hates social security, disability - any handout whatsoever. He thinks everybody should be wise, like him, and then they wouldn't get into any trouble. My answer - should I ever be given the chance to respond - is that God created the body of Christ to have different gifts. We're to use these respective gifts to build up the body (of Christ - fellow believers). Some have wisdom, some have faith, some can evangelize, some have the gift of helps, some have mercy, etc.
I have an aunt in Arizona in her eighties (this stern uncle's sister) who lives on $500/mo. Her trailer is paid for, but everything else comes from her meager income. Her $500 comes from social security, and my uncle doesn't think she should get it, because she didn't work the required number of quarters necessary to qualify. Now, I don't know how she got it or what the rules are; I think her family should be taking care of her (she has six kids). But they aren't. And you know what? Even though this uncle is fairly well off, he doesn't send my Arizona aunt money on any regular basis (maybe holidays). We sent her money occasionally when we were both working in Ca, but haven't had much to send since moving to Ohio.
It's all well and good (for Republicans) to say that families should take care of each other, but they don't always do this, and the elderly suffer, struggling single moms and their children suffer, veterans suffer, etc. Doesn't the government have to have a welfare system, since few follow what God says? The very people who turn their noses up at public assistance don't even help the poor in their own families!
The Bible says that it is easier for a camel to get through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to get to heaven. Being rich, or having plenty, robs a person of perspective. They began to believe that they are better than others. But it is God who decides who gets what (notwithstanding laziness), and getting plenty is not a blessing - unless one manages to still have perspective, despite the riches. Few are able to do this.
I would like to sit the very young (and Christian) Miss California down and take her around the country, to see how other young people her age grew up. Would she be so cold-hearted then, if she knew that the teenager in the neighboring state (on public assistance) got pregnant at 15 because her parents abused alcohol for years, and never met her emotional needs, or encouraged her in school?
There is another side to this. Some people abuse the help. And that has to be addressed through reform and constant evaluation, so self-sufficiency becomes the end result, rather than laziness. There are corrupt individuals at both ends of the spectrum, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't still set aside a portion of tax dollars to help the less fortunate. Helping the pregnant teenager with her self-esteem, through counseling, so she can meet a decent man, and helping her with job skills, so she can get a decent job, just makes sense. God commands that we do it.
I see everyday that there are reasons our life has taken this turn. One big one that keeps coming to mind is the change of perspective it brings. A paradigm shift in fact, has occurred. Every bit of data that enters my brain lately has to now be processed through my new frame of reference, which explains all these public-policy posts. Bounce out now if you abhor thinking about public policy.
I was a political science major in college, mostly because I was engaged to an attorney and thought I wanted to be one. Although I've never used my degree, I do really love public policy. I changed my mind about becoming a lawyer in my third year of college, and it didn't make sense to change majors at that point. When I learned that my fiance cheated on his taxes, I dumped him. All respect was lost for him, as my eyes opened to all the evidence of his lack of character. I wanted no part of his shady world. He was very funny, which was the initial draw, when I met him at the gym; he was in the aerobics class I taught for a short time during college.
Anyhow, today Miss California was interviewed regarding her answer to the gay marriage question at the Miss America pageant - maybe you saw this tidbit on the news? Among other things, she was asked by the Fox News interviewer how she would have answered the banking question which another contestant was given, regarding the bailouts. Miss California, whose stomach I used to have (hope she enjoys it while she can) responded that she didn't believe we should be bailing out any banks. I agree with that, as does half the country. Then she added, of her own accord, that she doesn't think taxpayer money should go to welfare either.
Remember the story of Ruth and Boaz in the Bible? There was a social system in place that took care of the poor, in the form of stray grain left in the fields after harvest. Farmers weren't supposed to try to get every piece of grain, so that the poor could go through the field after the harvest and gather what was left for their tables. Trouble is, not all the farmers followed this practice. Some wanted to gather as much of the grain as they could, to get richer.
Boaz was a good man and he followed this rule, as well as the kinsman-redeemer rule, which is why he married Ruth, his distant relative, who had lost her husband.
Now, I have a very conservative non-Christian uncle who disdains all handouts - even hates social security, disability - any handout whatsoever. He thinks everybody should be wise, like him, and then they wouldn't get into any trouble. My answer - should I ever be given the chance to respond - is that God created the body of Christ to have different gifts. We're to use these respective gifts to build up the body (of Christ - fellow believers). Some have wisdom, some have faith, some can evangelize, some have the gift of helps, some have mercy, etc.
I have an aunt in Arizona in her eighties (this stern uncle's sister) who lives on $500/mo. Her trailer is paid for, but everything else comes from her meager income. Her $500 comes from social security, and my uncle doesn't think she should get it, because she didn't work the required number of quarters necessary to qualify. Now, I don't know how she got it or what the rules are; I think her family should be taking care of her (she has six kids). But they aren't. And you know what? Even though this uncle is fairly well off, he doesn't send my Arizona aunt money on any regular basis (maybe holidays). We sent her money occasionally when we were both working in Ca, but haven't had much to send since moving to Ohio.
It's all well and good (for Republicans) to say that families should take care of each other, but they don't always do this, and the elderly suffer, struggling single moms and their children suffer, veterans suffer, etc. Doesn't the government have to have a welfare system, since few follow what God says? The very people who turn their noses up at public assistance don't even help the poor in their own families!
The Bible says that it is easier for a camel to get through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to get to heaven. Being rich, or having plenty, robs a person of perspective. They began to believe that they are better than others. But it is God who decides who gets what (notwithstanding laziness), and getting plenty is not a blessing - unless one manages to still have perspective, despite the riches. Few are able to do this.
I would like to sit the very young (and Christian) Miss California down and take her around the country, to see how other young people her age grew up. Would she be so cold-hearted then, if she knew that the teenager in the neighboring state (on public assistance) got pregnant at 15 because her parents abused alcohol for years, and never met her emotional needs, or encouraged her in school?
There is another side to this. Some people abuse the help. And that has to be addressed through reform and constant evaluation, so self-sufficiency becomes the end result, rather than laziness. There are corrupt individuals at both ends of the spectrum, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't still set aside a portion of tax dollars to help the less fortunate. Helping the pregnant teenager with her self-esteem, through counseling, so she can meet a decent man, and helping her with job skills, so she can get a decent job, just makes sense. God commands that we do it.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Igsperument
Daniel's first-grade journal thoughts of late:
Friday
Lorrie is cuming in two owrrss. I wont to culrr with hre. I wont to go owtsid wif hre. I wont to do a craft with her. I like Lorrie.
Translation:
Lorrie (aunt) is coming in two hours. I want to color with her. I want to go outside with her. I want to do a craft with her. I like Lorrie.
Monday
Dad is cuming soon. I wont to do a siens igsperument. I wont to to owtsid with Dad. He is fun.
Translation:
Dad is coming soon. I want to do a science experiment. I want to go outside with Dad. He is fun.
Daniel is becoming more and more independent with his studies. I used to have to sit with him the whole time during writing time. Now, he does it on his own and brings it to me afterwards. I LOVED the way he spelled "experiment"! I had to laugh (privately) at the "ig" beginning. That's actually how he says it. Hearing a final "nt" is actually very good, for his age. I'm pleased with his work, except for the sight words. Still have a lot of work to do there. Evaluating his independent work helps me plan on-target lessons.
Margie left a very good recipe for roasting pork and turkey in the comment section of my Easter Sunday post (Assurance of What We Cannot See). Thank you, Margie. I can't wait to try it out!
Happy Monday! I'm headed for bed. I stayed up too late while Auntie Lorrie (Don's sister) was here. Have to get back on track.
Friday
Lorrie is cuming in two owrrss. I wont to culrr with hre. I wont to go owtsid wif hre. I wont to do a craft with her. I like Lorrie.
Translation:
Lorrie (aunt) is coming in two hours. I want to color with her. I want to go outside with her. I want to do a craft with her. I like Lorrie.
Monday
Dad is cuming soon. I wont to do a siens igsperument. I wont to to owtsid with Dad. He is fun.
Translation:
Dad is coming soon. I want to do a science experiment. I want to go outside with Dad. He is fun.
Daniel is becoming more and more independent with his studies. I used to have to sit with him the whole time during writing time. Now, he does it on his own and brings it to me afterwards. I LOVED the way he spelled "experiment"! I had to laugh (privately) at the "ig" beginning. That's actually how he says it. Hearing a final "nt" is actually very good, for his age. I'm pleased with his work, except for the sight words. Still have a lot of work to do there. Evaluating his independent work helps me plan on-target lessons.
Margie left a very good recipe for roasting pork and turkey in the comment section of my Easter Sunday post (Assurance of What We Cannot See). Thank you, Margie. I can't wait to try it out!
Happy Monday! I'm headed for bed. I stayed up too late while Auntie Lorrie (Don's sister) was here. Have to get back on track.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Today's Blessings
My mother and stepfather went online to find something to help our colicky baby. Every time my mom called, the baby was crying, or would start crying while we talked. When she heard that I always had the blow dryer handy, she was flabbergasted that a baby would be comforted by such a thing. lol
Yesterday, thanks to their searching, we received a CD in the mail that features 75 minutes of blow-dryer bliss for colicky babies. The man who started this little business is a lot more entrepreneurial than the two of us. We didn't even think to make a CD of our blow dryer, even though we were fearing how high our electric bill might climb!
Anna Grace is improving, now that she is three months old, but she still has her hysterical times. By five months, I expect her to be a happy camper all the time, despite her horribly immature sphincter muscle, which causes her to spit up three to five times after every nursing. My letdown reflex is too forceful in both breasts, and there is usually an oversupply of milk, but only Daniel and Anna spit up like this. I can count on one hand how many times Timothy and Emily Rose spit up their entire first year.
Though high maintenance, Anna Grace is such a blessing! She is becoming more and more flirty, wanting to smile and coo at me in the middle of every nursing, and while I change her diaper. I often think of those who can't have children, and I know how very blessed we are. Few things can be as wonderful as caring for and loving a child. It pains me to know some never have the chance. I'm sure the Lord comforts, but there must still be sorrow; it would be a profoundly difficult testing of faith.
Emily Rose has found her voice! She is adding words by the hour, and delighting all of us. A whole new wonderful world has opened up. I'll have to find Leo the Late Bloomer at the library. I love to reread that in times like this.
Timothy and Emily are so cuddly! Yesterday, they squeezed into the rocker to give and receive cuddles while I was rocking Anna. Daniel, not wanting to be left out, joined us. Don tried to get a picture, but it wouldn't flash. Hate it when that happens. The memory will have to do.
I have more blessings to count this afternoon, but time is scarce.
P.S. Thank you, Terri! I have a white noise machine, but it just isn't loud enough. It's amazing how loud these babies want their white noise! The rest of us can't stand the sound of our vacuum! LOL
Yesterday, thanks to their searching, we received a CD in the mail that features 75 minutes of blow-dryer bliss for colicky babies. The man who started this little business is a lot more entrepreneurial than the two of us. We didn't even think to make a CD of our blow dryer, even though we were fearing how high our electric bill might climb!
Anna Grace is improving, now that she is three months old, but she still has her hysterical times. By five months, I expect her to be a happy camper all the time, despite her horribly immature sphincter muscle, which causes her to spit up three to five times after every nursing. My letdown reflex is too forceful in both breasts, and there is usually an oversupply of milk, but only Daniel and Anna spit up like this. I can count on one hand how many times Timothy and Emily Rose spit up their entire first year.
Though high maintenance, Anna Grace is such a blessing! She is becoming more and more flirty, wanting to smile and coo at me in the middle of every nursing, and while I change her diaper. I often think of those who can't have children, and I know how very blessed we are. Few things can be as wonderful as caring for and loving a child. It pains me to know some never have the chance. I'm sure the Lord comforts, but there must still be sorrow; it would be a profoundly difficult testing of faith.
Emily Rose has found her voice! She is adding words by the hour, and delighting all of us. A whole new wonderful world has opened up. I'll have to find Leo the Late Bloomer at the library. I love to reread that in times like this.
Timothy and Emily are so cuddly! Yesterday, they squeezed into the rocker to give and receive cuddles while I was rocking Anna. Daniel, not wanting to be left out, joined us. Don tried to get a picture, but it wouldn't flash. Hate it when that happens. The memory will have to do.
I have more blessings to count this afternoon, but time is scarce.
P.S. Thank you, Terri! I have a white noise machine, but it just isn't loud enough. It's amazing how loud these babies want their white noise! The rest of us can't stand the sound of our vacuum! LOL
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Wisdom
Last night I dwelt on James 1:2-4. Today, I am dwelling on James 1:5-6:
"If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him. But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind."
I had mentioned to Don whether he thought we should immediately put the house up for sale, with a "by owner" sign, instead of just primarily spending time looking for jobs. We want to be able to recover our down payment, at least. This house is a fantastic deal for the price, due to the square footage from the family-room and dining-room additions, and the large, fenced yard. It might go faster than the market would predict. We put in new flooring, carpet, paint, a new dishwasher, a water softener, a new water heater, and a bathroom sink and counter 3.5 years ago. It needs paint again, but the other improvements still look new.
I also called Countrywide to inquire about mortgage-hardship programs. They did get a bailout, after all. We'll see what happens with that.
I believe your Word, Lord. If we pray for wisdom, it will come. I also believe that you work all things for the good of those who love you.
My mother says they would be happy to take us in.
"If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him. But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind."
I had mentioned to Don whether he thought we should immediately put the house up for sale, with a "by owner" sign, instead of just primarily spending time looking for jobs. We want to be able to recover our down payment, at least. This house is a fantastic deal for the price, due to the square footage from the family-room and dining-room additions, and the large, fenced yard. It might go faster than the market would predict. We put in new flooring, carpet, paint, a new dishwasher, a water softener, a new water heater, and a bathroom sink and counter 3.5 years ago. It needs paint again, but the other improvements still look new.
I also called Countrywide to inquire about mortgage-hardship programs. They did get a bailout, after all. We'll see what happens with that.
I believe your Word, Lord. If we pray for wisdom, it will come. I also believe that you work all things for the good of those who love you.
My mother says they would be happy to take us in.
Monday, February 9, 2009
My Handsome Cook
My Dad is caring for my ailing Aunt Nell, his sister. She is slowly dying from congestive heart failure and requires more care than a newborn. She is anxious to go, to be with her husband, who passed away last summer.
Prior to her worsening, my Dad was bringing us soup once a week. Daniel and I love soup, although my specialty has always been high-fiber bean soups. Dad's specialty is chicken noodle soup, which is addicting, I must say. We missed it, so Daniel and I set about making a big pot of our own. I really didn't think I would be able to pull it off; Anna Grace kept waking frequently every time I would rock her to sleep and put her down in her infant seat. Since she won't sleep on her back, the infant seat is her napping place until she can roll over and use her crib for belly sleeping.
Anyway, Daniel wasn't happy with the delay, so he set about making the soup himself. Surprisingly, he had the maturity to wash and slice all the veggies. I was pleasantly surprised. He absolutely loves to cook, just like his Daddy. Don finds cooking relaxing. If I didn't get interrupted every five minutes, I would enjoy it as well. The soup finally made it to completion. Pretty good for our first try. Next time I need to use a lot more broth. We sacrificed some taste using the lower-sodium broth, so I'll have to research what other spices will work to jazz it up.
Anna Grace had her two-month check up today. She gained 2.5 pounds over the past month, transforming her from a scawny-looking 5.9 newborn, to a full-cheeked, full-thighed young lady. Mind you, she was born with literally no fat at all. It's a transfer that works for me - from my thighs to her thighs with love! lol I've still got nine pounds to go, to fit into any of my regular clothing. I find that having to wear my coat everywhere makes for pretty convenient coverage. All my babies were winter babes, luckily.
Emily Rose got her stitches out today as well. The doctor said the ER did a great job; he predicts no scarring. Thank you, Lord! He did recommend sunscreen, even in the car, to keep it from getting discolored, as well as the same over-the-counter scar cream that Stephanie and Margie recommended. Thank you, ladies, for the great advice!
I am working on labeling all my old posts. So far, I've only gotten through last November, 2008. If you have a newer blog, I would really recommend tagging your posts now, rather than later. Having to do all the catch up is a huge pain. Just go to "post options" at the bottom of your typing screen and enter the tags you want for each post. Blogger tallies the labels and places them as a link on your blog. If you click on "show all", all your personalized labels show up and you then just have to click on the labels that fit your post for that day, or you add a new label. Pretty neat. It makes it easier for your readers, or for you, to find old recipe posts or other informational posts.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
We Did It!
Yesterday was my father's 70th birthday. I wanted to make him a pineapple upside-down cake and have the boys paint him birthday cards. Once again, a kind deed didn't get done. Anna Grace had too many crying jags. I called him and told him we would definitely get it done and bring them over today. Well, by ten o'clock this morning it wasn't looking good. Then it dawned on me that Anna was over six weeks old, so I could probably safely introduce a pacifier without nipple confusion, and start using our baby swing. And alas! The laundry still litters my couch, but by golly, Grandpa is going to get his cake and birthday cards! The cake is cooling as we speak.
Now, if I can only get it into the van without slipping on the ice that used to be our driveway! lol We're supposed to get another five inches tonight. I think we're the only family in the neighborhood who still hasn't had time to shovel our driveway. As Jess says about the laundry, someday we'll catch up!
Now, if I can only get it into the van without slipping on the ice that used to be our driveway! lol We're supposed to get another five inches tonight. I think we're the only family in the neighborhood who still hasn't had time to shovel our driveway. As Jess says about the laundry, someday we'll catch up!
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Dinner Party
Here is the birthday boy! He was crushed when we told him pineapple upside-down cake doesn't get decorated the way other birthday cakes do. Grandpa, not wanting to ingest any food dye, convinced Daniel that he could decorate his own piece of cake, rather than the whole cake. BTW: Somewhere along the line, Daniel lost any natural smile for pictures. Most of his photos are goofy. He'll get a kick out of them later, I'm sure.
This is a bag angle for my sweet little one's nose. She actually has a tiny little face and features, but she's gaining weight rapidly. We're already using 0-3 months clothes, although she still fits into a few newborn outfits.
Daddy made the spaghetti sauce, but other than that he helped me by keeping Anna content. We are both so tired that whenever we sit in the rocker with Anna, we drift off to sleep, only to have one of the boys shake us awake every five minutes. What a frustrating feeling that is, let me tell you. LOL
Blogs are quite the thing for relaxing. We had my dad and his wife over for Daniel's seventh birthday - a spaghetti dinner and pineapple upside-down cake, at the birthday boy's request. The dinner party was preceded by mad-woman cleaning, since our house, as I mentioned, was a disaster. Even my husband, who is basically a slob, commented on it. "This house is seriously trashed". In the past I would have been offended, but now that I'm a mature 42 years old, I just smiled in agreement. Tempers are one thing that get better with age, so even though you'll abhor looking in the mirror at your wrinkles, at least you'll be able to reflect on how much nicer you are.
BTW: My hands are starting to get those ugly sun spots, or are they called age spots? Anyway, all you twenty and thirty-somethings definitely want to wear sunscreen while driving. I wish I had; driving without it ages your hands in ugly ways.
Don helped me enormously today, by holding our fussy Anna Grace so I could scurry around after church, dusting, vacuuming, windexing, and collecting clutter in a laundry basket. I know, brilliant move. Now instead of taking said basket off the master bed and processing the clutter so we can crash, I am sitting here reading blogs and writing a post, even though we are averaging only four hours of sleep a night, and walking around like cranky zombies. Anna now wakes every three hours for feedings, and we stay up late doing the minimum chores. I'm sure there's a better way - I'm just too tired and wired to think of it and make it happen.
These are the best days of my life though. I have no complaints, other than that I wish I had a Christian sister nearby, with whom to share burdens. My father has been very helpful, bringing us soup once a week, and now, tomorrow, he will help me through Anna and Emily's routine doctor check-ups. I had visions of Emily touching everything in sight, bringing home more viruses. Grandpa will help keep her in line and be there to comfort her through the immunizations. That's a comfort to me, since Anna will undoubtedly poop at least twice while we're there. Who wants to deal with mustardy poop and a curious toddler simultaneously?
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