We went through Lafayette this weekend. We were all together so I felt pretty comfortable until we stopped at Wal-Mart. I realized right away that we had the potential to run into the Ogre - so we hurriedly decided to hit another store further on our way.
Didn't think of him again until the ride home. The tailgate on the Cherry Van didn't close - so we stopped at McDonalds parking lot to close it. Unfortunately, I had not been thinking. When we stopped I saw the fear on my son's face. Fear isn't always rational - and of course we all looked around the parking lot for his silver Lincoln. It wasn't there. I hopped out quickly and adjusted the load in the back of the van and we got back on the road without incident.
Just a reminder - nearly a 9 months after we've left - we still get fearful of him - like an evil ghost that clings to our good memories of Lafayette.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Friday, May 27, 2005
The First Thirty Days
Well, this morning I went to pick up a marraige license copy so that I can change my ID and my social security card. It is official, and I really like being the Mrs. My husband is wonderful - and still in love with me after thirty days - and that is quite the bonus!
So far:
1. Still wants to snuggle with me after the kids are in bed
2. Went to see Star Wars, Revenge of the Sith - ooooh good movie
3. Survived the totalling of my car without incident
4. Had a Scotsman and his wife sing in our basement
5. Survived the passing of his aunt, and two ducklings
6. Had one early morning incident chasing the dogs
7. Went to a Braves game with the kids
8. Had dinner with the in-laws which went well
9. Brought me flowers for no particular reason
10. Bought me a Mother's Day gift that made me blush
11. Got to see Stone Mountain Park
12. Went on a great date to Hartwell to get ducklings followed by Greek food mmmmm.
13. Survived minor surgery
14. Introduced chore schedule and actually followed it
15. Survived little bit of teenage drama (the kids are easy teenagers)
16. Watched all of the Star Wars movies we have on tape
17. Planned and are making the 1200 mile trip to drop off the kids for summer break
18. Covered my banking error by handing me $200 without any questions
19. Survived gender-confused though endearing house guest for thirty days
20. Took the kids to Mass the weekend that I was so sick
21. Endured me and my hacking cough and sinus infection - not attractive at all
22. Took the kids and I to Golden Corral for Mother's Day
23. Took the boys to football sign up - and paid for registration and helmets
24. Have been too tired for sex (threw this one in for Envoy-ette!)
So far:
1. Still wants to snuggle with me after the kids are in bed
2. Went to see Star Wars, Revenge of the Sith - ooooh good movie
3. Survived the totalling of my car without incident
4. Had a Scotsman and his wife sing in our basement
5. Survived the passing of his aunt, and two ducklings
6. Had one early morning incident chasing the dogs
7. Went to a Braves game with the kids
8. Had dinner with the in-laws which went well
9. Brought me flowers for no particular reason
10. Bought me a Mother's Day gift that made me blush
11. Got to see Stone Mountain Park
12. Went on a great date to Hartwell to get ducklings followed by Greek food mmmmm.
13. Survived minor surgery
14. Introduced chore schedule and actually followed it
15. Survived little bit of teenage drama (the kids are easy teenagers)
16. Watched all of the Star Wars movies we have on tape
17. Planned and are making the 1200 mile trip to drop off the kids for summer break
18. Covered my banking error by handing me $200 without any questions
19. Survived gender-confused though endearing house guest for thirty days
20. Took the kids to Mass the weekend that I was so sick
21. Endured me and my hacking cough and sinus infection - not attractive at all
22. Took the kids and I to Golden Corral for Mother's Day
23. Took the boys to football sign up - and paid for registration and helmets
24. Have been too tired for sex (threw this one in for Envoy-ette!)
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Game 5 - Notes from Daddy
Our 5th game of the year is underway. We got off to a great start. Two friends from Tennessee had given me a Relay for Life bracelet which I wore to the game. It contains inspirational words to play by as we enter the latter part of our season. I reflected on them frequently as the game started - BRAVERY - ENDURANCE - HOPE - COURAGE - Words to live by. Thanks Judy & Nellie. You are true friends.
The game started out fine. In fact, I felt so good after ttreatment that I decided to take Pat out to dinner at the Indiana Beach Skyroom, which just opened up for the season. It's a special place for us because we got engaged at the Beach on May 15, 1958 - just a year or two ago - it was at a Harry James and his Big Band concert. We had a great dinner. I think you could say that we threw the "Bomb" on the first play of the game. Those ex LHS football players will be familiar with that play. It was a 70 yard touchdown pass - great blocking line - a good way to start the game. The game is far from over - the 2nd half is always the roughest.
Before the game, we had a metting with Coach. Went well. In two weeks (before next game) Coach wants to do CAT and PET scans and bone marrow biopsy. We are hopeful that they show the cancer is in remission. If they look real good, may not even have to play 6th game. But knowing Coach and how conservative he can be, that can be a long shot. We'll see. He did comment that even if tumors don't show up on scans, there can still be microscopic cells infected that an extra treatment could enhance the total time of remission before a relapse. He's the boss - I've learned to follow his instructions.
Thanks for your notes, cards, and of course prayers. Prayer Does Change Things. Have a great Memorial day weekend.
The game started out fine. In fact, I felt so good after ttreatment that I decided to take Pat out to dinner at the Indiana Beach Skyroom, which just opened up for the season. It's a special place for us because we got engaged at the Beach on May 15, 1958 - just a year or two ago - it was at a Harry James and his Big Band concert. We had a great dinner. I think you could say that we threw the "Bomb" on the first play of the game. Those ex LHS football players will be familiar with that play. It was a 70 yard touchdown pass - great blocking line - a good way to start the game. The game is far from over - the 2nd half is always the roughest.
Before the game, we had a metting with Coach. Went well. In two weeks (before next game) Coach wants to do CAT and PET scans and bone marrow biopsy. We are hopeful that they show the cancer is in remission. If they look real good, may not even have to play 6th game. But knowing Coach and how conservative he can be, that can be a long shot. We'll see. He did comment that even if tumors don't show up on scans, there can still be microscopic cells infected that an extra treatment could enhance the total time of remission before a relapse. He's the boss - I've learned to follow his instructions.
Thanks for your notes, cards, and of course prayers. Prayer Does Change Things. Have a great Memorial day weekend.
Depression's Ugly Face
Did you see The Passion of the Christ? Remember those little demons that tortured Judas - they looked innocent enough until Judas was alone and then they showed their true jagged teeth. Depression is that kind of demon. It looks innocent enough, might just be trouble sleeping, might be something you can shake off or run from. Then in the next instant, it has overcome you and death seems like the only way out.
My family has an ugly genetic history of depression. My grandmother's depression interfered with her ability to function in her later years, often rendering her incapacitated. My uncle attempted suicide after trying every antidepressant on the market, he survived the attempt only to acquire pneumonia from the charcoal that managed to get in his lungs in the ER. His son, one of my favorite cousins, visited with his mom and kids on Easter, then shot himself after trying to pull himself out of darkness for years. My own brother has struggled with bipolar disorder - and was arrested during a failed suicide attempt after he hit someone who was trying to take his gun away. My family has struggled with depression among the members for a long time. My guess is that at any point in time at least 2 of the six remaining siblings and several of my cousins are using antidepressant medication.
One thing here - after reading my cousin's suicide note, it was very clear to me that his dad's suicide gave him "permission" to take the same path. Made it seem alright - and he felt that his act hurt only himself. We don't realize how our actions effect others - how they see themselves in us - see our fortitude - and decide that if we can't take it, then they surely can't. It is a legacy that we pass on to our relatives and kids, this choice to get up one more day even if we don't feel like we can. If we have a history of depression I think it is our personal responsibility to do what we can to nip it quickly and start the medicine as soon as the symptoms start.
I struggled with depression after Jake was born and I was the proud owner, I mean single parent of three kids - one of whom was colicky for six months. Sleep deprivation and a high carb diet were a death sentence for me - throwing my insulin and estrogen levels out of whack - and then my seratonin. Prozac was my friend. That was nearly 10 years ago. From time to time I have talked to my doctor about the possible need for antidepressants - like last year when I was preparing to move out of the Ogre's house when Jake was diagnosed with epilepsy and I found out the Ogre had been sleeping with some woman in Peru for about two months.
I worked for over five years in the Psychiatric ICU at Wishard Hospital in Indianapolis. It is one of the top 100 hospitals in the nation - and they do psych as well as anyone. It is a teaching hospital and I learned a lot about the pathophysiology of depression from professors, researchers, pharmaceutical companies and most importantly, people who lived with depression year after year. After watching scores of people have dramatic changes in affect (facial expression) thought process ( thinking about something other than being dead) and motivation (ability to get things done), I cannot in good conscience tell someone that there is not a biological basis. One problem/advantage to being a nurse is that we are programmed to assess a person - their gait, their thought process, their affect, where their focus is - and use that information to discern what is really going on - they call this the holistic approach.
Recognizing the symptoms is tough - can easily be confused with other things - including genuine mourning. Here is a link to Depression.com which gives a pretty good list.
Things which are predisposing factors: 1. Family history 2. Insulin resistance/Diabetes ( if you have a poochy belly, you have some insulin resistance - just keep an eye out for symptoms 3. Hi carb or low fat diet, poor nutrition 4. High levels of stress, poor sleep
The studies show time after time that if depression is treated early, it will lose it's hold faster and is less likely to come back. Medication takes at least two weeks to work - thus the need to start treatment early on. There are about 20 antidepressants to choose from, sometimes the side effects are bothersome - but lets put that in perspective - upset stomach, decreased appetite and decreased libido are all problems much more minor than being dead.
Thanks for tolerating my rambling - it just seems that I have more and more people around me who need some treatment and aren't getting the help they need - so I was compelled to post.
My family has an ugly genetic history of depression. My grandmother's depression interfered with her ability to function in her later years, often rendering her incapacitated. My uncle attempted suicide after trying every antidepressant on the market, he survived the attempt only to acquire pneumonia from the charcoal that managed to get in his lungs in the ER. His son, one of my favorite cousins, visited with his mom and kids on Easter, then shot himself after trying to pull himself out of darkness for years. My own brother has struggled with bipolar disorder - and was arrested during a failed suicide attempt after he hit someone who was trying to take his gun away. My family has struggled with depression among the members for a long time. My guess is that at any point in time at least 2 of the six remaining siblings and several of my cousins are using antidepressant medication.
One thing here - after reading my cousin's suicide note, it was very clear to me that his dad's suicide gave him "permission" to take the same path. Made it seem alright - and he felt that his act hurt only himself. We don't realize how our actions effect others - how they see themselves in us - see our fortitude - and decide that if we can't take it, then they surely can't. It is a legacy that we pass on to our relatives and kids, this choice to get up one more day even if we don't feel like we can. If we have a history of depression I think it is our personal responsibility to do what we can to nip it quickly and start the medicine as soon as the symptoms start.
I struggled with depression after Jake was born and I was the proud owner, I mean single parent of three kids - one of whom was colicky for six months. Sleep deprivation and a high carb diet were a death sentence for me - throwing my insulin and estrogen levels out of whack - and then my seratonin. Prozac was my friend. That was nearly 10 years ago. From time to time I have talked to my doctor about the possible need for antidepressants - like last year when I was preparing to move out of the Ogre's house when Jake was diagnosed with epilepsy and I found out the Ogre had been sleeping with some woman in Peru for about two months.
I worked for over five years in the Psychiatric ICU at Wishard Hospital in Indianapolis. It is one of the top 100 hospitals in the nation - and they do psych as well as anyone. It is a teaching hospital and I learned a lot about the pathophysiology of depression from professors, researchers, pharmaceutical companies and most importantly, people who lived with depression year after year. After watching scores of people have dramatic changes in affect (facial expression) thought process ( thinking about something other than being dead) and motivation (ability to get things done), I cannot in good conscience tell someone that there is not a biological basis. One problem/advantage to being a nurse is that we are programmed to assess a person - their gait, their thought process, their affect, where their focus is - and use that information to discern what is really going on - they call this the holistic approach.
Recognizing the symptoms is tough - can easily be confused with other things - including genuine mourning. Here is a link to Depression.com which gives a pretty good list.
Things which are predisposing factors: 1. Family history 2. Insulin resistance/Diabetes ( if you have a poochy belly, you have some insulin resistance - just keep an eye out for symptoms 3. Hi carb or low fat diet, poor nutrition 4. High levels of stress, poor sleep
The studies show time after time that if depression is treated early, it will lose it's hold faster and is less likely to come back. Medication takes at least two weeks to work - thus the need to start treatment early on. There are about 20 antidepressants to choose from, sometimes the side effects are bothersome - but lets put that in perspective - upset stomach, decreased appetite and decreased libido are all problems much more minor than being dead.
Thanks for tolerating my rambling - it just seems that I have more and more people around me who need some treatment and aren't getting the help they need - so I was compelled to post.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
On a lighter note...
This came from my dad today:
The high school coaches went to a coaches' retreat. To save money they had to room together. No one wanted to room with Coach Daryl because he snored so bad.They decide it's not fair to make one of them stay with him the whole time, so they vote to take turns.
The first coach sleeps with Daryl and comes to breakfast next morning with his hair a mess, eyes all bloodshot.They say, "Man, what happened to you?"He said, "Man, that Daryl snored so loud, I watched him all night."
The next night it was a different coach's turn. In the morning, same thing --hair all standing up, eyes all bloodshot.They say, "Man, what happened to you? You look awful!"He said, "Man, that Daryl shakes the roof. I watched him all night."
The third night was Frank's turn. Frank was a big burly ex-football player-looking type of man's man.Next morning, he comes to breakfast bright eyed and bushy tailed.
"Good morning."They can't believe it! They say, "Man, what happened?"He said, "Well, we got ready for bed. I went and tucked Daryl into bed and kissed him good night. He watched me all night long."
The high school coaches went to a coaches' retreat. To save money they had to room together. No one wanted to room with Coach Daryl because he snored so bad.They decide it's not fair to make one of them stay with him the whole time, so they vote to take turns.
The first coach sleeps with Daryl and comes to breakfast next morning with his hair a mess, eyes all bloodshot.They say, "Man, what happened to you?"He said, "Man, that Daryl snored so loud, I watched him all night."
The next night it was a different coach's turn. In the morning, same thing --hair all standing up, eyes all bloodshot.They say, "Man, what happened to you? You look awful!"He said, "Man, that Daryl shakes the roof. I watched him all night."
The third night was Frank's turn. Frank was a big burly ex-football player-looking type of man's man.Next morning, he comes to breakfast bright eyed and bushy tailed.
"Good morning."They can't believe it! They say, "Man, what happened?"He said, "Well, we got ready for bed. I went and tucked Daryl into bed and kissed him good night. He watched me all night long."
Freedom of Speech
With much power comes much responsibility. I say this a lot - though I am pretty sure I stole that line from a movie - maybe Spiderman.
Justin posted an article today about Newsweek. I took the time to read the story and it just really ticked me off. First, the authors decided to publish a story talking about how America was falling apart in a Japanese version of the magazine. They did not run the story stateside. Freedom of speech entitles us to criticize the things we don't like. Talk radio is full of criticisms and coming up with solutions - but it at least gives those in power, and those in grass roots movements an opportunity to address concerns. To talk behind someone's back and not give them an opportunity to defend themselves - well, it is just cowardly.
The part of the story that really steamed me was the line that people outside of America don't want the American way of life. Now let me say that there are some aspects of our country's moral and political make-up that I don't agree with - but there is no need to throw the baby out with the bathwater - I try to improve the things I can and adapt to the rest.
I work in a metropolitan hospital. In the last week I have seen immigrants from the following countries: Somalia, Bosnia, Scotland, Cuba, Columbia, Mexico, Ukraine, England, India, Japan and Romania. These folks aren't stupid - nor are they cowards. Most of them came with just a suitcase ( imagine for just a moment reducing all your possessions to a suitcase). They came to a country that speaks predominantly English - not too many folks understand that question about where is the bathroom when asked in Bosnian. Apparently the author didn't talk to any of these folks, because in my conversations with them - they are pretty freaking glad to be here. Some of the folks we see risked the desert in Texas or New Mexico to cross over, still others hop a boat and trek the 90 miles by ocean from Cuba (no judgment here, just the fact that it is a pretty gutsy thing to do for someone who doesn't want "the American Way of Life"). I wonder if this author at Newsweek has been to the Mexican border lately - we can't keep people from crossing the border illegally - maybe he has been under a rock for the past 15 years.
I guess the upshot of this is that I believe if you see something that need fixing - try to fix it, complaining doesn't really yield results. Expressing your negative opinions to others without confronting the party involved is gossiping - and it is cowardly. We can't fix everyone, but it is our responsibility to try to make the world we impact a better place. Here is one 5th generation American that is glad to have those of you who were brave enough to dream of a new future here in the States. Welcome home.
Justin posted an article today about Newsweek. I took the time to read the story and it just really ticked me off. First, the authors decided to publish a story talking about how America was falling apart in a Japanese version of the magazine. They did not run the story stateside. Freedom of speech entitles us to criticize the things we don't like. Talk radio is full of criticisms and coming up with solutions - but it at least gives those in power, and those in grass roots movements an opportunity to address concerns. To talk behind someone's back and not give them an opportunity to defend themselves - well, it is just cowardly.
The part of the story that really steamed me was the line that people outside of America don't want the American way of life. Now let me say that there are some aspects of our country's moral and political make-up that I don't agree with - but there is no need to throw the baby out with the bathwater - I try to improve the things I can and adapt to the rest.
I work in a metropolitan hospital. In the last week I have seen immigrants from the following countries: Somalia, Bosnia, Scotland, Cuba, Columbia, Mexico, Ukraine, England, India, Japan and Romania. These folks aren't stupid - nor are they cowards. Most of them came with just a suitcase ( imagine for just a moment reducing all your possessions to a suitcase). They came to a country that speaks predominantly English - not too many folks understand that question about where is the bathroom when asked in Bosnian. Apparently the author didn't talk to any of these folks, because in my conversations with them - they are pretty freaking glad to be here. Some of the folks we see risked the desert in Texas or New Mexico to cross over, still others hop a boat and trek the 90 miles by ocean from Cuba (no judgment here, just the fact that it is a pretty gutsy thing to do for someone who doesn't want "the American Way of Life"). I wonder if this author at Newsweek has been to the Mexican border lately - we can't keep people from crossing the border illegally - maybe he has been under a rock for the past 15 years.
I guess the upshot of this is that I believe if you see something that need fixing - try to fix it, complaining doesn't really yield results. Expressing your negative opinions to others without confronting the party involved is gossiping - and it is cowardly. We can't fix everyone, but it is our responsibility to try to make the world we impact a better place. Here is one 5th generation American that is glad to have those of you who were brave enough to dream of a new future here in the States. Welcome home.
Freedom of Speech Part Two
I don't pretend for a minute to think Tom Cruise would care what I think, but yesterday I saw an article where he openly criticized Brooke Shields for using medication to treat post partum depression. Perhaps the article is fabricated, but just in case it is true, I have some things to say:
Problem 1: He is a Scientologist and entitled to his beliefs, but he is not a physician, has not been trained that i can see in either Eastern or Western medicine, he is an actor - a pretender by trade.
Problem 2: He has never been pregnant, neither have his wives or live-in girlfriends, so how much does ol' Tom really know about pregnancy or the terror of post partum depression first hand?
Problem 3: Did he not watch the news? Hasn't he seen the stories of women who killed their children when the depression moved to psychosis? I cannot understand why compassion would not dictate for us to do whatever we possibly can, short of murder - to protect that mom, her kids and her husband from teh drama that ensues when depression goes untreated.
Problem 4: This is not his wife or his baby - sorry, also not any of his business.
Problem 5: He perpetuates the myth that depression is a weakness of character and not a physical malady. Thanks for moving medicine back 10 years with your bold public statement you turkey. It is so difficult to get people to seek treatment because of the social stigma ALREADY - this kind of press doesn't help.
Problem 6: What Brooke Shields did was very brave - to share that kind of pain in the hope that it will help someone else is a great thing. She deserves support - not for some one who professes to care about her to openly criticize her.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Rumors of War
I read Michael Yon's blog again today - and he has done an excellent job of re-defining the words we use to describe terrorists. The blog is bit lengthy, but exceptionally well done and leads me to wonder why more people in the media are not careful about the words they choose to describe things. Semantics are more important than we think. There are very few politics in this blog - but there is a clear picture of what it is like t be in the miltary in Iraq today. If you are interested here is the link:
http://michaelyon.blogspot.com/
http://michaelyon.blogspot.com/
Tagged
I was tagged by my buddy the Wash Lady so here goes:
Total Books I Own: I'd bet about 400 - possibly more. During the move, even though lots of things didn't' make it, it seemed like every other box was marked books. My grandfather was an English teacher -- thus a huge pile of paperbacks: Voltaire, Twain,Hemingway, Shakespeare - you name it. Add to this a monstrous collection of Little Golden Books that I bought for the kids.
Last Book I Bought: Come Thirsty by Max Lucado - so far so good, but I've never read any of his books that I didn't think were good.
Last Book I Read: The Sexy Years by Suzanne Somers - bio-identical hormones, great information on preimenopause and hormone replacement - she survived breast cancer - she's smarter than her persona would reveal.
5 Books I enjoyed:
1. Women Who Run With the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes hands down favorite - still referring to it 11 years later
2. The Poem of the Man-God Maria Valtorte - best kept secret in the Catholic Church
3. In the Eye of the Storm Max Lucado - talks about how God sees us through crisis
4. Parenting Isn't for Cowards Dr James Dobson - yep he's right about that
5. Outlander, Voyager, Dragonfly in Amber, Fiery Cross, Drums of Autumn by Diana Gabaldon - incredible, intriguing historical fiction - couldn't put these books down, can't wait for the next one.
I'm going to add one more - best book explaining metabolic problems including diabetes was The Schwarzbein Principle - by Diana Schwarzbein
okay - I'll have to post later and pick who else to tag!
Total Books I Own: I'd bet about 400 - possibly more. During the move, even though lots of things didn't' make it, it seemed like every other box was marked books. My grandfather was an English teacher -- thus a huge pile of paperbacks: Voltaire, Twain,Hemingway, Shakespeare - you name it. Add to this a monstrous collection of Little Golden Books that I bought for the kids.
Last Book I Bought: Come Thirsty by Max Lucado - so far so good, but I've never read any of his books that I didn't think were good.
Last Book I Read: The Sexy Years by Suzanne Somers - bio-identical hormones, great information on preimenopause and hormone replacement - she survived breast cancer - she's smarter than her persona would reveal.
5 Books I enjoyed:
1. Women Who Run With the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes hands down favorite - still referring to it 11 years later
2. The Poem of the Man-God Maria Valtorte - best kept secret in the Catholic Church
3. In the Eye of the Storm Max Lucado - talks about how God sees us through crisis
4. Parenting Isn't for Cowards Dr James Dobson - yep he's right about that
5. Outlander, Voyager, Dragonfly in Amber, Fiery Cross, Drums of Autumn by Diana Gabaldon - incredible, intriguing historical fiction - couldn't put these books down, can't wait for the next one.
I'm going to add one more - best book explaining metabolic problems including diabetes was The Schwarzbein Principle - by Diana Schwarzbein
okay - I'll have to post later and pick who else to tag!
Monday, May 23, 2005
I am the Rescuer of the Myachi
Last week, Josh, middle son - tortured artist - in need of a haircut - took his myachi to school where it was promptly confiscated by his teacher. It is the age-old story of her saying - "If I see that one more time I am going to take it" - and then a classmate tossing it up in the air.
So today, when it is 87 degrees, and I have the remains of a sinus infection, and a van which fusses about the running of the air conditioner, I drove over to school and rescued the Myachi. Normally, I would have let something like this slide - but since he got this little toy while with his friends in Orlando, I just didn't have the heart. It has provided hours of quiet play and frankly, it is a pretty good hobby for him.
For those of you who aren't familiar - a Myachi is a little sandbag in a velveteen case that is used as a hand version of a hackey sack. It is great for manual dexterity - and to get rid of the nervous energy invading the body during puberty.
In other news:
My dad and my friend still need your prayers. My friend had a bad weekend which could have been dramatically worse - I firmly believe prayers worked - offering protection to her.
I cleaned out the "big pen" for the ducks. It used to be used for dogs at some point and is about 25 feet long and 10 feet wide in guestimation The Pekin and the Crested were in there most of the day Saturday and Sunday, but will need a chicken wire roof to protect them overnight from tea raccoons who live in the rest of our acreage. The baby ducks - who are turning out to be quite a bright and vocal group of Indian Runners, got to move up, at least in daylight - to the 8-foot pen. During that project I also found a baby dogwood tree, who received a new spot to grow.
The dogs are on my list - both Sadie and Aspen broke out of their pens this weekend. Then I put Sadie on a wire lead and a harness - she promptly jumped the fence again - and sat on the wrong side of the fence for about an hour - still tied to the lead. They will also be getting a chicken wire roof on their pen - that should be a fun venture.
Justin took the boys over to sign up for football in the fall. He gets Father of the Day awards for also having the good sense to get their helmets from Play-It-Again Sports and then take them out for Mexican. It was a great spontaneous guys day out - and I got some yard-time!
Jake finally changed ADHD medication and all of the sudden he went from being the scattered son to the contemplative son. He took all the playing pieces from the Lord of the Rings Risk game and set up a battle scene - I think Helm's Deep - but I couldn't' swear to it. He spent nearly six hours in very focused play - almost scary how fast the change takes place. It is amazing how the drugs can have such a marked effect on the thought process.
My daughter, whom I adore, informed me this weekend that after she turns 18 she expects me to treat her like an adult -read here: extend her curfew from eleven on weeknights and 2am on weekends - or else she will have to move out. Part of her argument is that she doesn't do anything wrong - of course the reverse argument also applies: perhaps she is not "doing anything wrong" because she has an earlier curfew! Poor child has too much of her mother in her - chomping for freedom so badly that she is willing to trade out free room and board to have a later curfew. I remember well those last few months of living at home - was so anxious to get started on my "grown-up" life. Postponed any decisions about curfews until she gets back from her vacation - and then we'll see.
Funny thing about being a teenager - the only threat is to move out - which is of course the whole goal of rearing your children in the first place!
So today, when it is 87 degrees, and I have the remains of a sinus infection, and a van which fusses about the running of the air conditioner, I drove over to school and rescued the Myachi. Normally, I would have let something like this slide - but since he got this little toy while with his friends in Orlando, I just didn't have the heart. It has provided hours of quiet play and frankly, it is a pretty good hobby for him.
For those of you who aren't familiar - a Myachi is a little sandbag in a velveteen case that is used as a hand version of a hackey sack. It is great for manual dexterity - and to get rid of the nervous energy invading the body during puberty.
In other news:
My dad and my friend still need your prayers. My friend had a bad weekend which could have been dramatically worse - I firmly believe prayers worked - offering protection to her.
I cleaned out the "big pen" for the ducks. It used to be used for dogs at some point and is about 25 feet long and 10 feet wide in guestimation The Pekin and the Crested were in there most of the day Saturday and Sunday, but will need a chicken wire roof to protect them overnight from tea raccoons who live in the rest of our acreage. The baby ducks - who are turning out to be quite a bright and vocal group of Indian Runners, got to move up, at least in daylight - to the 8-foot pen. During that project I also found a baby dogwood tree, who received a new spot to grow.
The dogs are on my list - both Sadie and Aspen broke out of their pens this weekend. Then I put Sadie on a wire lead and a harness - she promptly jumped the fence again - and sat on the wrong side of the fence for about an hour - still tied to the lead. They will also be getting a chicken wire roof on their pen - that should be a fun venture.
Justin took the boys over to sign up for football in the fall. He gets Father of the Day awards for also having the good sense to get their helmets from Play-It-Again Sports and then take them out for Mexican. It was a great spontaneous guys day out - and I got some yard-time!
Jake finally changed ADHD medication and all of the sudden he went from being the scattered son to the contemplative son. He took all the playing pieces from the Lord of the Rings Risk game and set up a battle scene - I think Helm's Deep - but I couldn't' swear to it. He spent nearly six hours in very focused play - almost scary how fast the change takes place. It is amazing how the drugs can have such a marked effect on the thought process.
My daughter, whom I adore, informed me this weekend that after she turns 18 she expects me to treat her like an adult -read here: extend her curfew from eleven on weeknights and 2am on weekends - or else she will have to move out. Part of her argument is that she doesn't do anything wrong - of course the reverse argument also applies: perhaps she is not "doing anything wrong" because she has an earlier curfew! Poor child has too much of her mother in her - chomping for freedom so badly that she is willing to trade out free room and board to have a later curfew. I remember well those last few months of living at home - was so anxious to get started on my "grown-up" life. Postponed any decisions about curfews until she gets back from her vacation - and then we'll see.
Funny thing about being a teenager - the only threat is to move out - which is of course the whole goal of rearing your children in the first place!
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Hitting Bottom - Help Needed
When you feel like you are actively trying to listen to God when you pray, and then the answer you think you heard, doesn't seem to be turning out - what is a person to do?
I have never been one to just wait for God to do everything, neither has my friend. She and I spent years as single moms - no small task and not a job for the faint of heart.
Now, she is struggling with the same feelings I had last year: I prayed about something, I have faithfully followed the answer I thought I heard and now there is so much adversity I can not believe that I heard correctly.
We forget that as believers that we are tempted, we are pushed and on occasion, we are asked to put our faith in action to match our words (yep, it is a reason to be careful what we say!) God thinks we can handle more than we think we can - like only He can read that little tag that says 300 pound weight limit plastered on the back of our heads.
Let me give you my example - I married an abuser - but I didn't do it recklessly. I prayed about it, I talked to God and asked Him to remove that relationship if it was not His Will. I don't think God is cruel, but I think He knew it was a chance for me to toughen my metal and for the Ogre, possible salvation if he chose the high road. Even though things went badly - really badly, God came through for me. We prayed for guidance (me, my folks, my friend), clear guidance - and within 3 days I had a phone call from the Women's Shelter and from my lawyer to seek safety. That is not coincidence, that is an answer.
She prayed and God revealed a plan to her - but there have been some road blocks - the path is draining her resources and now putting a strain on her otherwise happy marriage. At what point do you give it back to God - well probably about now. That is what she advised me when I got to the point last summer that I felt the weight was going to crush me. We give it back and we ask our friends to lift us up in prayer - and ask God specifically to work a miracle and keep His promise while keeping her in His will. So today if you get a minute, please say a prayer for Mrs. Flake - she is my friend, and she could use some help carrying with the load.
I have never been one to just wait for God to do everything, neither has my friend. She and I spent years as single moms - no small task and not a job for the faint of heart.
Now, she is struggling with the same feelings I had last year: I prayed about something, I have faithfully followed the answer I thought I heard and now there is so much adversity I can not believe that I heard correctly.
We forget that as believers that we are tempted, we are pushed and on occasion, we are asked to put our faith in action to match our words (yep, it is a reason to be careful what we say!) God thinks we can handle more than we think we can - like only He can read that little tag that says 300 pound weight limit plastered on the back of our heads.
Let me give you my example - I married an abuser - but I didn't do it recklessly. I prayed about it, I talked to God and asked Him to remove that relationship if it was not His Will. I don't think God is cruel, but I think He knew it was a chance for me to toughen my metal and for the Ogre, possible salvation if he chose the high road. Even though things went badly - really badly, God came through for me. We prayed for guidance (me, my folks, my friend), clear guidance - and within 3 days I had a phone call from the Women's Shelter and from my lawyer to seek safety. That is not coincidence, that is an answer.
She prayed and God revealed a plan to her - but there have been some road blocks - the path is draining her resources and now putting a strain on her otherwise happy marriage. At what point do you give it back to God - well probably about now. That is what she advised me when I got to the point last summer that I felt the weight was going to crush me. We give it back and we ask our friends to lift us up in prayer - and ask God specifically to work a miracle and keep His promise while keeping her in His will. So today if you get a minute, please say a prayer for Mrs. Flake - she is my friend, and she could use some help carrying with the load.
Transformations
I am a tactile person - anyone spending time with us sees the copious amounts of physical affection in our famliy - my sons have actually missed their bus waiting for me to come out of the shower and kiss them goodbye. It is important - if I get hit by a bus, I want the last thing we say to each other to be something sweet - like have a great day, I love you
In high school and college I was an Athletic Trainer - bandaging, taping, icing - living in sweat. Now I am a nurse by trade. Worked psych in downtown Indianapolis for about five years, also worked ER in a small hospital where I saw about everything. When you are a nurse, you see a lot of bodies. Something strange happens, akin to watching a lot of violence on TV I think, the feel of skin, the smell of blood and sweat, the lack of personal space - they all become somewhat normal. When you touch someone, you automatically assess the skin and the pulses, I watch people walk by and assess their gait, watch for signs of pain on the face. Can't help it, that is how I was trained.
This can be a real downer in a marriage - if you have seen "parts" all day, the sight of another naked arse isn't really a turn on. I have always believed that this numbing of my senses was to be my destiny, having never been given any reason to believe otherwise.
Then I got married to the right man. Since we have been married it is as though a shroud was lifted and little things I have hardly noticed are just unbelieveably intriguing. The smell of his soap in the bathroom in the morning after his shower, the warm scent of the sheets on his side of the bed, the smell of the cigars in his Jeep ( that I don't think I am supposed to know about). I have actually caught myself staying awake just to watch him breathe, focused intently on the curls in the hair on his chest. It is as though I have been given a new set of nerves and a new skin to cover my body. I feel better about my body - not great yet, but better. It is much more intimate than sex and it is difficult to explain. It reminds me of the fascination when your baby is born - a part of you, yet not you. It is the most remarkable sensation of having another part of you - like he is my right arm. All of a sudden, the only thing I want to do is stand in my room with my arms around him, head on his shoulder and just breathe.
The thing is, I would really like to have a conversation with "me" at 21, and tell me to just hold out, hold on, don't settle, avoid the high carb diet the doctor suggested ( I digress). Maybe I wouldn't have listened. Had I known how wonderful things could be, had I realized this was possible, to feel so amplified...well I might have done things differently...or then agian, maybe not since that road led me here.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Small town America
I had to drive to the smaller of our two hospitals this morning and on the way, passed a truck full of guys "planting" crosses on the roadside. The crosses are white, about three feet tall and bear the names of area soldiers who have given their lives and in which war they were lost. I saw Panama, WWII, WWI, and Vietnam in the first set of crosses which were already standing.
What struck me is that the crosses from this one little community covered three miles of road, both sides. I was at the hospital for three hours and on my way back, the guys were still putting up the crosses. Makes you think. I hold my sons so dear - and in reading there crosses I saw several of the same last names, probably brothers - or cousins or at least relatives. The amount of pain that those famlies must have had to bear is just incredible.
And yet today, we still have scores of people overseas in a war. As we drove through West Virgina a couple of months ago we were struck by the signs, written on bedsheets - welcoming home soldiers from Iraq - or Bosnia - or Afghanistan...places many of these folks only know about from the news. Reporters skew things on the news, these famlies know the sacrifice they have made - that their sons and daughters have made- and the are entitled to feel proud.
Yesterday I followed a link on Chris's website to a journalist who is with the troops in Iraq. Here is the link if you are interested, his pictures and commentary are really interesting. I don't always understand the policitcs of war - I should, but I dont' bother to delve that deeply. What I do know is that as Memorial Day approaches, I will try to keep in mind those thousands of mothers who gave up their sons to their country.
What struck me is that the crosses from this one little community covered three miles of road, both sides. I was at the hospital for three hours and on my way back, the guys were still putting up the crosses. Makes you think. I hold my sons so dear - and in reading there crosses I saw several of the same last names, probably brothers - or cousins or at least relatives. The amount of pain that those famlies must have had to bear is just incredible.
And yet today, we still have scores of people overseas in a war. As we drove through West Virgina a couple of months ago we were struck by the signs, written on bedsheets - welcoming home soldiers from Iraq - or Bosnia - or Afghanistan...places many of these folks only know about from the news. Reporters skew things on the news, these famlies know the sacrifice they have made - that their sons and daughters have made- and the are entitled to feel proud.
Yesterday I followed a link on Chris's website to a journalist who is with the troops in Iraq. Here is the link if you are interested, his pictures and commentary are really interesting. I don't always understand the policitcs of war - I should, but I dont' bother to delve that deeply. What I do know is that as Memorial Day approaches, I will try to keep in mind those thousands of mothers who gave up their sons to their country.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Maybe I came from JC Penneys
We are taking a trip to Sweden in a couple of weeks and this has necessitated the use of an original birth certificate, stamped by the state of Michigan, to send to the passport office.
I had a notarized copy of my certificate, but the passport office nixed it and asked for an original. Viewing this as an opportunity to get another original copy, I went online to the State Of Michigan and filled out the form to order a certificate. The website cannot verify my identity. Then I went to the county clerk website - they also cannot verify my identity and give me a birth certificate. According to the state - I don't exist - or at least I canno be verified.
Wild thoughts about my conservative parents getting me at JC Penneys - or being involved in some secret plot to get a child went whirling through my mind. Then reality set in and I decided that being adopted in the 60's entitles you to the run-around and a secret location for your birth records.
I made some phone calls. Apparently, records from the original birth parents are burned at that time - or at least that is what my folks were told. Because of the shroud of secrecy that surrounds adoptions of yesteryear, I have to jump through several hoops to get a copy of my birth certificate. Weird. I am not trying to find my birth parents, I'm not starting a revolution, I just want a verified copy of a certificate to prove I am a citizen. And it begs the question - I was born in a little hospital in Southfield Michigan - to a 19 year old mother - on an odd birthday - how tough would it really be to find out who my birth mother is if I wanted to know?
Made me wonder -why do we feel the need to keep these secrets as a society? Why do we bestow shame and secrecy on a woman who had enough guts to carry through an unplanned pregnancy and bravely give her child a shot a better life? It is one of the things that has always bothered me. Frankly, I don't need another set of parents, mine are fine. But I would like her to know I am fine, I am happy, my kids are great and I think my daughter probably looks like her.
I had a notarized copy of my certificate, but the passport office nixed it and asked for an original. Viewing this as an opportunity to get another original copy, I went online to the State Of Michigan and filled out the form to order a certificate. The website cannot verify my identity. Then I went to the county clerk website - they also cannot verify my identity and give me a birth certificate. According to the state - I don't exist - or at least I canno be verified.
Wild thoughts about my conservative parents getting me at JC Penneys - or being involved in some secret plot to get a child went whirling through my mind. Then reality set in and I decided that being adopted in the 60's entitles you to the run-around and a secret location for your birth records.
I made some phone calls. Apparently, records from the original birth parents are burned at that time - or at least that is what my folks were told. Because of the shroud of secrecy that surrounds adoptions of yesteryear, I have to jump through several hoops to get a copy of my birth certificate. Weird. I am not trying to find my birth parents, I'm not starting a revolution, I just want a verified copy of a certificate to prove I am a citizen. And it begs the question - I was born in a little hospital in Southfield Michigan - to a 19 year old mother - on an odd birthday - how tough would it really be to find out who my birth mother is if I wanted to know?
Made me wonder -why do we feel the need to keep these secrets as a society? Why do we bestow shame and secrecy on a woman who had enough guts to carry through an unplanned pregnancy and bravely give her child a shot a better life? It is one of the things that has always bothered me. Frankly, I don't need another set of parents, mine are fine. But I would like her to know I am fine, I am happy, my kids are great and I think my daughter probably looks like her.
Out of the Loop edited
I had to remove yesterday's post because the focus was in the wrong place. I was angry that people in my family seem to be allowed an opinion - seem to think they are smarter or better able to handle things and seem to get away with everything. I however, get held to task for pretty much every mistake I ever make. I am tired of being the off-kilter one.
I was having my own personal pity party, shared with fellow bloggers.
I did not mean to imply that my friend is a schmuck - which is apparently how it came off. I felt like my mom was monopolizing her friendship - not because of her, because of my mom. After talking to my friend, I realized that I am having some issues with my mom that I need to work on.
Anyway - this is a public apology- I didn't mean to bash her - I just needed to vent my frustration about the family boundaries adn she unfortunately got tangled in the middle of it.
Thank you for the kind words - I feel better now and hope to post soemthing more uplifting than yesterday's whining!
I was having my own personal pity party, shared with fellow bloggers.
I did not mean to imply that my friend is a schmuck - which is apparently how it came off. I felt like my mom was monopolizing her friendship - not because of her, because of my mom. After talking to my friend, I realized that I am having some issues with my mom that I need to work on.
Anyway - this is a public apology- I didn't mean to bash her - I just needed to vent my frustration about the family boundaries adn she unfortunately got tangled in the middle of it.
Thank you for the kind words - I feel better now and hope to post soemthing more uplifting than yesterday's whining!
Friday, May 13, 2005
Ain't love grand?
I wrote this after the first day I had talked to Justin on the phone- posted it back in June, but some of the words keep replaying through my head today, so I thought I'd repost it.
Just in time – how appropriate the title
Not looking for romance or to fill a void
Running from the bridal bouquet
Yet some force continued pressing
Pushing, drawing, moving us
Closer, almost in the way of each other
Until there was no longer a path of resistance
My heart has kept hope burning
Despite betrayal, despite the pain
The beliefs of a little girl:
That love exists without boundaries
That two people can be happy together
That I have another half who is also
Angry that it is taking so long to find each other
The disembodied voice continued calling
Though its existence remained silent on my lips
Even when I could not see you, I could feel you
Your hands on my trembling skin
This I will keep only to myself
The precious treasure of another soul
One like me, with scars stronger than flesh
Delicious moments of seeing beneath the pelt
Into the soft pink flesh beneath the surface
Into the heart and the tender shrouded soul
Looking deep into your eyes,
Hearing the fear in your voice too
Frightening to see the commonality
With my own soul, my own life, my own scars.
Just in time – how appropriate the title
Not looking for romance or to fill a void
Running from the bridal bouquet
Yet some force continued pressing
Pushing, drawing, moving us
Closer, almost in the way of each other
Until there was no longer a path of resistance
My heart has kept hope burning
Despite betrayal, despite the pain
The beliefs of a little girl:
That love exists without boundaries
That two people can be happy together
That I have another half who is also
Angry that it is taking so long to find each other
The disembodied voice continued calling
Though its existence remained silent on my lips
Even when I could not see you, I could feel you
Your hands on my trembling skin
This I will keep only to myself
The precious treasure of another soul
One like me, with scars stronger than flesh
Delicious moments of seeing beneath the pelt
Into the soft pink flesh beneath the surface
Into the heart and the tender shrouded soul
Looking deep into your eyes,
Hearing the fear in your voice too
Frightening to see the commonality
With my own soul, my own life, my own scars.
Predators
I discovered some time ago to trust my instincts. Occasionally some fleeting thought will come to me and I have found that if I follow that, my life turns out better. The same is true for my instincts about people. This sounds odd considering my past history with men - well truthfully , the Ogre got in under the radar. If you have a person who is very skilled at deception - even to the point to deceiving themselves into believing they are a good Christian man - I think that person could get in under the radar - I consider it a glitch.
I have found myself lately feeling overly protective about my daughter. This is difficult because I trust her, but I also see some of myself in her and I am concerned about her choices. Mostly as this pertains to men. Unfortunately, I have been dating since I was about 13. Early on I was blessed by some , well, overly testosteroned but otherwise nice guys. If I had to choose, I would let guys like these date my daughter. They had good families, they were active in church, they had aspirations and plans to go to college.
Somewhere along the way, things changed for me. It involved a certain Italian who just broke my heart and my spirit, and it took me almost 20 years to recover. But I digress - though I actually had a point. I am concerned because I know that falling for the wrong man - can change the course of your whole life and worse, it can change how we perceive ourselves.
The instinctive part of me has the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. I have this image in my mind of one particular person saying" well, you know that is how predators work. They go after the weakest one because that is the most likely to fall". We were talking about the ducks, but the consistency of sexually tinged conversation made it clear that the predator was not in fact the neighbors cat. Comments have been made that are not appropriate in polite conversation. Do I think he has aspects of his personality which give him the potential to be a good friend - absolutely, but those are not the aspects governing his life right now. Worse is the fact that I just cannot convince the girls that I know this kind of man - hell, I've slept with this kind of man before - the kind who lulls you into complacency because you think he has accepted you refusal of his bed and decided to just be your friend. There is always a climactic event - where he drugs you, or you are too drunk, or to comfortable or worse, start to believe he actually loves you - and bad things happen. It astounds me that people who have seen him get one girl pregnant and then sleep with another girl would believe his motives are pure - or that he is worried about his ego. He isn't, he is just trying another method - if he can't convince you by his prowess, he will seduce you with his charm. I have seen this trick - I have been a victim of this trick and unfortunately so have a couple of my girlfriends.
I am so troubled - partly because my daughter doesn't believe me - and partly because she is choosing to believe others who have not shown great judgment.
Why do we sell ourselves short? Why is is so unbelievable that some day a man will find us so intriguing that he will call - even if he has to work in the morning? And I wonder why we have to hit those brick walls over and over again. We need to start out the way we mean to end - to borrow Lora's phrase - if we start by doing all the work and all the calling - you will be the one pursuing and that sells a woman short.
I have found myself lately feeling overly protective about my daughter. This is difficult because I trust her, but I also see some of myself in her and I am concerned about her choices. Mostly as this pertains to men. Unfortunately, I have been dating since I was about 13. Early on I was blessed by some , well, overly testosteroned but otherwise nice guys. If I had to choose, I would let guys like these date my daughter. They had good families, they were active in church, they had aspirations and plans to go to college.
Somewhere along the way, things changed for me. It involved a certain Italian who just broke my heart and my spirit, and it took me almost 20 years to recover. But I digress - though I actually had a point. I am concerned because I know that falling for the wrong man - can change the course of your whole life and worse, it can change how we perceive ourselves.
The instinctive part of me has the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. I have this image in my mind of one particular person saying" well, you know that is how predators work. They go after the weakest one because that is the most likely to fall". We were talking about the ducks, but the consistency of sexually tinged conversation made it clear that the predator was not in fact the neighbors cat. Comments have been made that are not appropriate in polite conversation. Do I think he has aspects of his personality which give him the potential to be a good friend - absolutely, but those are not the aspects governing his life right now. Worse is the fact that I just cannot convince the girls that I know this kind of man - hell, I've slept with this kind of man before - the kind who lulls you into complacency because you think he has accepted you refusal of his bed and decided to just be your friend. There is always a climactic event - where he drugs you, or you are too drunk, or to comfortable or worse, start to believe he actually loves you - and bad things happen. It astounds me that people who have seen him get one girl pregnant and then sleep with another girl would believe his motives are pure - or that he is worried about his ego. He isn't, he is just trying another method - if he can't convince you by his prowess, he will seduce you with his charm. I have seen this trick - I have been a victim of this trick and unfortunately so have a couple of my girlfriends.
I am so troubled - partly because my daughter doesn't believe me - and partly because she is choosing to believe others who have not shown great judgment.
Why do we sell ourselves short? Why is is so unbelievable that some day a man will find us so intriguing that he will call - even if he has to work in the morning? And I wonder why we have to hit those brick walls over and over again. We need to start out the way we mean to end - to borrow Lora's phrase - if we start by doing all the work and all the calling - you will be the one pursuing and that sells a woman short.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Purgatory: Middle Ground
This post is not about that quaint spot in Colorado.
I am currently reading a little book called: The Amazing Secret of the Souls in Purgatory. It is an interview with woman who sees people who are in purgatory and who offers up sacrifices or delivers requests for them. Took me about 25 minutes to read the book - but now I have to keep going back and re-reading it because parts are popping into my thoughts.
After writing this opening, I realize that I any have lost you already, you don't believe in Purgatory, or you can't find it in the Bible, so it must not exist. Well, there isn't a passage in the scriptures that directly describes the trinity - but we believe. Purgatory is a part of Catholic teaching that includes traditional beliefs, things that are revealed through the ages. I linked this to a site that talks about the history and the doctrine.
Oddly enough if I were writing about Sylvia Platt or some other person who could channel the dead, it would have more credibility - and that is truly messed up. In my days thus far I have learned that just because all don't understand it - or it is new to me, doesn't mean that it isn't credible.
I wanted to write a little something about this book because I had an interesting conversation with my sister-in-law about a family member who belongs to a faith outside of Christianity. Living in the Bible Belt, I find myself frequently explaining that there is a moment when Catholics choose The Faith as adults - Confirmation - and that is akin to "accepting Christ as your lord and Savior". Note I said akin - not identical. Choosing to follow Christ and let him be the director of your life is a day to day - and often moment to moment decision. I have always thought it was a good idea to have the Alter-call moment where you realize Christ is real - but that moment doesn't last forever. We can call ourselves Christians, and still use free will to choose a behavior that is against the very beliefs we profess.
So why do we Catholics have Purgatory? Let's start with the basic premise that God loves us passionately and obsessively every last soul of His creation. Ever been chased by Him - or seen Him lead someone back to Him, you know what I mean, then. Read the story in Hosea if you have forgotten, God creates enough drama that the woman comes back to Him, and He speaks kindly to her and restores everything so that she will know He loves her. How do you reconcile a God who is obsessed by His Love for us, and yet is bound by the terms that no one gets to the Father except though the Son - and must by His very nature be both Merciful and Just? What happens to those who only heard about Christ in passing, or never heard of Him at all? What about the Dali Lama - or the Hindus or the Jews or the Native Americans who practice a spirituality that is not about Jesus - but has elements that certainly honor God? What about those of us stuck in a cynical world full of evil who have questions about God and His fairness and His existence? There has to be a fair solution for what happens to good souls who die - God loves them obsessively. He would have a "loophole" as it were so that He would not lose them to Satan ( we believe He sent His son to be crucified, would only make sense that He would bend the rules as far as possible to get us to Heaven). People inherently have a conscience which can discern good from evil, it is through this conscience that the soul can become blessed. Thus - Purgatory.
Interestingly enough the question is asked of Maria about how people arrive in Heaven, Purgatory or Hell. Her answer was wondrous and I wanted to share: God gives every soul at the hour of death the grace sufficient to forgive their sins - to believe in Him, even if they did not know about Him during their entire lives. If one asks for sincere forgiveness, it is given - paid by the Blood of the Lamb. People who go to Hell choose to go there - God offers them Mercy, begs them to accept the gift He has already paid for, and they refuse it as a conscious decision. (Pope John Paul II wrote an encyclical on Mercy that discusses this in detail).
Those who see God are faced with the knowledge of who and what they are - pride is out of the equation and we are faced with our own reality. Often times a person will choose Purgatory as a means of purification. You wouldn't go to a holiday celebration in your gardening clothes with your hair greasy neither would you want to appear in the presence of God without feeling clean and prepared. Purgatory gives you time for purification until you decide you are ready to go to Heaven.
Truth is, there is no way to be sure about what happens after we die - there is room for interpretation even in the scriptures. I wanted to share this because Purgatory brings me comfort - helps me to feel like even those I feel are lost - from drugs, from alcohol, from mental illness - from darkness - still have hope - still have the potential to be in Heaven with God one day.
I am currently reading a little book called: The Amazing Secret of the Souls in Purgatory. It is an interview with woman who sees people who are in purgatory and who offers up sacrifices or delivers requests for them. Took me about 25 minutes to read the book - but now I have to keep going back and re-reading it because parts are popping into my thoughts.
After writing this opening, I realize that I any have lost you already, you don't believe in Purgatory, or you can't find it in the Bible, so it must not exist. Well, there isn't a passage in the scriptures that directly describes the trinity - but we believe. Purgatory is a part of Catholic teaching that includes traditional beliefs, things that are revealed through the ages. I linked this to a site that talks about the history and the doctrine.
Oddly enough if I were writing about Sylvia Platt or some other person who could channel the dead, it would have more credibility - and that is truly messed up. In my days thus far I have learned that just because all don't understand it - or it is new to me, doesn't mean that it isn't credible.
I wanted to write a little something about this book because I had an interesting conversation with my sister-in-law about a family member who belongs to a faith outside of Christianity. Living in the Bible Belt, I find myself frequently explaining that there is a moment when Catholics choose The Faith as adults - Confirmation - and that is akin to "accepting Christ as your lord and Savior". Note I said akin - not identical. Choosing to follow Christ and let him be the director of your life is a day to day - and often moment to moment decision. I have always thought it was a good idea to have the Alter-call moment where you realize Christ is real - but that moment doesn't last forever. We can call ourselves Christians, and still use free will to choose a behavior that is against the very beliefs we profess.
So why do we Catholics have Purgatory? Let's start with the basic premise that God loves us passionately and obsessively every last soul of His creation. Ever been chased by Him - or seen Him lead someone back to Him, you know what I mean, then. Read the story in Hosea if you have forgotten, God creates enough drama that the woman comes back to Him, and He speaks kindly to her and restores everything so that she will know He loves her. How do you reconcile a God who is obsessed by His Love for us, and yet is bound by the terms that no one gets to the Father except though the Son - and must by His very nature be both Merciful and Just? What happens to those who only heard about Christ in passing, or never heard of Him at all? What about the Dali Lama - or the Hindus or the Jews or the Native Americans who practice a spirituality that is not about Jesus - but has elements that certainly honor God? What about those of us stuck in a cynical world full of evil who have questions about God and His fairness and His existence? There has to be a fair solution for what happens to good souls who die - God loves them obsessively. He would have a "loophole" as it were so that He would not lose them to Satan ( we believe He sent His son to be crucified, would only make sense that He would bend the rules as far as possible to get us to Heaven). People inherently have a conscience which can discern good from evil, it is through this conscience that the soul can become blessed. Thus - Purgatory.
Interestingly enough the question is asked of Maria about how people arrive in Heaven, Purgatory or Hell. Her answer was wondrous and I wanted to share: God gives every soul at the hour of death the grace sufficient to forgive their sins - to believe in Him, even if they did not know about Him during their entire lives. If one asks for sincere forgiveness, it is given - paid by the Blood of the Lamb. People who go to Hell choose to go there - God offers them Mercy, begs them to accept the gift He has already paid for, and they refuse it as a conscious decision. (Pope John Paul II wrote an encyclical on Mercy that discusses this in detail).
Those who see God are faced with the knowledge of who and what they are - pride is out of the equation and we are faced with our own reality. Often times a person will choose Purgatory as a means of purification. You wouldn't go to a holiday celebration in your gardening clothes with your hair greasy neither would you want to appear in the presence of God without feeling clean and prepared. Purgatory gives you time for purification until you decide you are ready to go to Heaven.
Truth is, there is no way to be sure about what happens after we die - there is room for interpretation even in the scriptures. I wanted to share this because Purgatory brings me comfort - helps me to feel like even those I feel are lost - from drugs, from alcohol, from mental illness - from darkness - still have hope - still have the potential to be in Heaven with God one day.
Monday, May 09, 2005
Divine Intervention on I-65
This weekend, my daughter drove back to Indiana for senior prom. The trip up went well, and as the overprotective mother I had her call me every time she stopped with the exit number and the time.
The prom went fine - she hung out with old friends then went out for early morning breakfast - no raucous parties, just a fun time hanging out with her friends.
Then came the drive home on Sunday. She slept in , left some time around 11 and called me when she was leaving. About 45 minutes into the drive, she was coming through Indianapolis in I-65. She had just passed Methodist hospital, driving in the left lane when the front driver side tire gave way. The car pulled to the left, and since there was another car right nest to her in the middle lane, she went with the swerve and hit the concrete dividers. The car continued to fishtail, threatening to spin out of control, though now the speed had decreased. The rear hit the concrete as well, sending her skidding across three lanes of traffic and into the concrete on the passenger side. The car finally came to a stop at the end of the curve.
She never hit another car - she escaped without any injuries - other than some sore muscles this morning. This section of road has very heavy traffic - even on a Sunday morning. The chances of making it across three lanes of traffic, fishtailing and out of control without hitting another car - well, they are very slim. It had to be nothing short of divine intervention - maybe her guardian Angel was driving - because the potential to be slammed by another vehicle coming out of a nearly blind curve is just astronomical. When I went to Mass last night I took a minute and thanked God for sparing my daughter - because I know full well that she shouldn't have survived that.
My car is mashed - but it is fixable. She arrived in one piece this morning on a Greyhound bus, early enough that she won't miss school today. I remember vividly talking to one of my friends about my belief in God - in His provision, in His Mercy - and my answer rings true agian this morning - how can I NOT believe in Him, when He so clearly believes in me.
The prom went fine - she hung out with old friends then went out for early morning breakfast - no raucous parties, just a fun time hanging out with her friends.
Then came the drive home on Sunday. She slept in , left some time around 11 and called me when she was leaving. About 45 minutes into the drive, she was coming through Indianapolis in I-65. She had just passed Methodist hospital, driving in the left lane when the front driver side tire gave way. The car pulled to the left, and since there was another car right nest to her in the middle lane, she went with the swerve and hit the concrete dividers. The car continued to fishtail, threatening to spin out of control, though now the speed had decreased. The rear hit the concrete as well, sending her skidding across three lanes of traffic and into the concrete on the passenger side. The car finally came to a stop at the end of the curve.
She never hit another car - she escaped without any injuries - other than some sore muscles this morning. This section of road has very heavy traffic - even on a Sunday morning. The chances of making it across three lanes of traffic, fishtailing and out of control without hitting another car - well, they are very slim. It had to be nothing short of divine intervention - maybe her guardian Angel was driving - because the potential to be slammed by another vehicle coming out of a nearly blind curve is just astronomical. When I went to Mass last night I took a minute and thanked God for sparing my daughter - because I know full well that she shouldn't have survived that.
My car is mashed - but it is fixable. She arrived in one piece this morning on a Greyhound bus, early enough that she won't miss school today. I remember vividly talking to one of my friends about my belief in God - in His provision, in His Mercy - and my answer rings true agian this morning - how can I NOT believe in Him, when He so clearly believes in me.
Friday, May 06, 2005
Conspiracy Theory
Today I received a letter back from the US Governemtn statign that they could not verify that I was born in the United States. Since I am adopted, I could have been born anywhere- but my Social Security card says I am an entitled citizen. weird
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Thrill a Minute
Yesterday was another banner-blockbuster - hard to top - day.
First thing, I woke up next to my new husband who isn't frightened off by morning breath...remarkable.
Then, I got to work and discovered that now Diet Coke comes in a Splenda form - it tastes a lot like regular Coke - and is my new favorite - even over Diet Dr. Pepper.
I had my six month review and it went well, I love my job anyway - but the big bonus, I got a "market"raise for employee retention - about $3.00 an hour. Sweet!
Lastly, at lunchtime, I recieved a call from my mom. The latest CAT scan adn PET scan results show that my Dad's cancer is going into remission. This means he may be able to shorten the schedule of chemo, the doc already dropped the Allopurinol which protects the kidneys. Most importantly, it shows what we already knew -good medicine includes pharmaceuticals, prayer, and good attitude.
See, it'll be tough to beat that one!
First thing, I woke up next to my new husband who isn't frightened off by morning breath...remarkable.
Then, I got to work and discovered that now Diet Coke comes in a Splenda form - it tastes a lot like regular Coke - and is my new favorite - even over Diet Dr. Pepper.
I had my six month review and it went well, I love my job anyway - but the big bonus, I got a "market"raise for employee retention - about $3.00 an hour. Sweet!
Lastly, at lunchtime, I recieved a call from my mom. The latest CAT scan adn PET scan results show that my Dad's cancer is going into remission. This means he may be able to shorten the schedule of chemo, the doc already dropped the Allopurinol which protects the kidneys. Most importantly, it shows what we already knew -good medicine includes pharmaceuticals, prayer, and good attitude.
See, it'll be tough to beat that one!
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
The Wedding
The weather Channel has been predicting rain on Saturday for over a week now. I have embraced this little change of plans, and tried to figure out how to amend our plans for an outdoor party. Friday my friend from Albuquerque and her husband flew in to be at the wedding. It was fun - but when you see old friends, there is just never enough time to chat about all the stuff you want to chat about.
Saturday morning came and I was up by 6 and it wasn't raining. You just never know what might happen, so I thought I would act as though the rain would pass us until I actually saw the rain. I put the pans of potatoes and pork loin into the oven, set out the candles in the garden - I had a list of things going through my head, owing partly to the disconcerting realization that people from Justin's work had not yet RSVP'd, so I didn't know how many people were coming. This made me nervous, marrying Justin didn't. So I did what I always do - tried to follow my routine. I went to Wal-Mart, then stopped at McDonalds for eggs and sausage and a Diet Coke ( I'm addicted too, AC!). The sky opened up and the thick gray cloud let out water like there was a fire. The roads and my yard were soaked.
After coming home I put out some cinnamon rolls and juice for the kids - then started getting the drink table ready. I called and talked to my mom for almost an hour and the rain just poured down.
Promptly at 8:45, the family arrived. I escaped the kitchen, gave specific instructions ( which were ignored, but whatever) and went off to try to transform myself from tie dye and ponytail to blushing bride. I started getting ready and my daughter followed me in. Her self-designated job was to make sure I didn't make any huge faux-pas in the makeup department - like using green eyeliner (which I had actually considered instead of the bronze). Shirsten arrived with video camera but was gracious enough NOT to take pictures of me in a girdle and partial make-up.
Meantime, Justin transported out friends from his house over to our house, then made another dash back to get the cake. He had to come into the room to get his clothes for the wedding and even gruffly persuaded the girls to let him through, eyes closed - to kiss me hello.
A few minutes before the wedding, I asked Jerra about the location of the service and also to get the bouquet that someone had asked if they could put together for me. The service was going to be in the family room and there had been a misunderstanding - so there was no bouquet. My mom had talked to my uncle who had just happened to bring a big rose topiary and a dozen white roses - which saved the day. We announced that we were ready - and were told we could come down in two minutes. We stood there, in our bedroom, just breathing each other in , waiting for our turn.
Then came the two of us strolling down our hallway, arm in arm - me in the ivory dress and him in full kilt and prince Charlie jacket. It felt as natural as breathing. Reality set in as we walked into the room - bursting with people - and the preacher standing in the open doorway. TR, our brother-in-law was on filming duty - he was on the porch outside the door.
The preacher said he would be casual and if the thunder or the rain got too loud, he would pause. The rain pounded, thunder crashed and a train went by about a block away, but he never even slowed down.
He began with a little bit about the sanctity of marriage, then went to our vows.
"Do you Jason, take Stacey to be your lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward as long as you both shall live?"
Justin replied: I do, and Jason does too.
The room erupted into laughter - we just couldn't help it. There was shushing, but it was too late. He apologized, and as the service went on, he called Justin "Jason" twice more.
Then it was my turn and he must have had some reservations about my status as a divorcee because he had me repeat two different versions of my vows - just to make sure they would stick!!
Then he prayed over the exchange of rings, and we finally got to put the rings on for good. Felt incredibly good. Let no man put asunder what God has joined together...
By the power vested in him, he pronounced us man and wife.
Then it was time to kiss the bride and for a moment, when I could feel Justin's breath, I forgot about all the other people in the room- and there were just the two of us.
Later Justin said that he just kept repeating in his head "no tongue, no tongue" - yep, he's mine.
There was no introduction of the Mr and Mrs, so we just kind of said -okay - we're done and started milling around.
One friend asked: Hey I thought you were Catholic, not Mormon -
I said I was
She replied well you married Justin and Jason and I thought only MOrmons could have two husbands.
I replied I'm just lucky I guess.
Saturday morning came and I was up by 6 and it wasn't raining. You just never know what might happen, so I thought I would act as though the rain would pass us until I actually saw the rain. I put the pans of potatoes and pork loin into the oven, set out the candles in the garden - I had a list of things going through my head, owing partly to the disconcerting realization that people from Justin's work had not yet RSVP'd, so I didn't know how many people were coming. This made me nervous, marrying Justin didn't. So I did what I always do - tried to follow my routine. I went to Wal-Mart, then stopped at McDonalds for eggs and sausage and a Diet Coke ( I'm addicted too, AC!). The sky opened up and the thick gray cloud let out water like there was a fire. The roads and my yard were soaked.
After coming home I put out some cinnamon rolls and juice for the kids - then started getting the drink table ready. I called and talked to my mom for almost an hour and the rain just poured down.
Promptly at 8:45, the family arrived. I escaped the kitchen, gave specific instructions ( which were ignored, but whatever) and went off to try to transform myself from tie dye and ponytail to blushing bride. I started getting ready and my daughter followed me in. Her self-designated job was to make sure I didn't make any huge faux-pas in the makeup department - like using green eyeliner (which I had actually considered instead of the bronze). Shirsten arrived with video camera but was gracious enough NOT to take pictures of me in a girdle and partial make-up.
Meantime, Justin transported out friends from his house over to our house, then made another dash back to get the cake. He had to come into the room to get his clothes for the wedding and even gruffly persuaded the girls to let him through, eyes closed - to kiss me hello.
A few minutes before the wedding, I asked Jerra about the location of the service and also to get the bouquet that someone had asked if they could put together for me. The service was going to be in the family room and there had been a misunderstanding - so there was no bouquet. My mom had talked to my uncle who had just happened to bring a big rose topiary and a dozen white roses - which saved the day. We announced that we were ready - and were told we could come down in two minutes. We stood there, in our bedroom, just breathing each other in , waiting for our turn.
Then came the two of us strolling down our hallway, arm in arm - me in the ivory dress and him in full kilt and prince Charlie jacket. It felt as natural as breathing. Reality set in as we walked into the room - bursting with people - and the preacher standing in the open doorway. TR, our brother-in-law was on filming duty - he was on the porch outside the door.
The preacher said he would be casual and if the thunder or the rain got too loud, he would pause. The rain pounded, thunder crashed and a train went by about a block away, but he never even slowed down.
He began with a little bit about the sanctity of marriage, then went to our vows.
"Do you Jason, take Stacey to be your lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward as long as you both shall live?"
Justin replied: I do, and Jason does too.
The room erupted into laughter - we just couldn't help it. There was shushing, but it was too late. He apologized, and as the service went on, he called Justin "Jason" twice more.
Then it was my turn and he must have had some reservations about my status as a divorcee because he had me repeat two different versions of my vows - just to make sure they would stick!!
Then he prayed over the exchange of rings, and we finally got to put the rings on for good. Felt incredibly good. Let no man put asunder what God has joined together...
By the power vested in him, he pronounced us man and wife.
Then it was time to kiss the bride and for a moment, when I could feel Justin's breath, I forgot about all the other people in the room- and there were just the two of us.
Later Justin said that he just kept repeating in his head "no tongue, no tongue" - yep, he's mine.
There was no introduction of the Mr and Mrs, so we just kind of said -okay - we're done and started milling around.
One friend asked: Hey I thought you were Catholic, not Mormon -
I said I was
She replied well you married Justin and Jason and I thought only MOrmons could have two husbands.
I replied I'm just lucky I guess.
Wedding Part Two: The reception
After the service we were able to visit with family and friends. There was a lot of conversation and laughter about how odd our vows were - and how apparently the preacher wanted to make sure we meant it since we said them twice. We laughed about the rain and thunder- took about a zillion family pictures and then when there was a break in the action, we went to change.
Let me just say, this was the best plan of the whole day. We were both excited and tired and stressed from the drama of people who are WAY more high-strung than either of us are. We pre-arranged with my sister-in-law to clear the basement ( you can hear everything upstairs) so that we could "change". We went into what was now our bedroom, threw off our wedding attire, consummated our marriage, and grabbed a shower. Sorry, no more intimate details except to say that this was unbelievably valuable in terms of stress release - as well as giving us an hour to remember why we went through all the drama of the last three weeks and what all this fuss was about. And we're married, so we're allowed.
At some point during our absence, the rain stopped, the musicians showed up, and snacks were served. We emerged feeling much better about live in general and had about 20 minutes to circulate among our friends before the rest of the group started showing up.
My girlfriends from work were first - God Bless them. They had to listen to me giggle and gush all last week, but there they were promptly at 12:30, saying congrats. Then other folks started to file in, none of the neighbors from here, but a couple from Justin's neighborhood. Some people brought gifts, others just brought love - and that was great too. The house saw a lot of laughter and camaraderie - I would consider it properly house-warmed.
We ordered cake from the local bakery, it was SO INCREDIBLY GOOD with about half an inch of real butter frosting and yellow pudding cake that nearly drips. Rather than a traditional wedding cake we opted for a sheet cake with Pepe' le Pew and Penelope ( you know the Warner Brother's skunk and cat duo) - lying on their tummies gazing into each other's eyes. Perfect for us.
We had our friend, Duncan, play in the basement since outside was still too wet. Nothing better than a Scotsman and his wife in your basement singing drinking songs - with kids and adults bouncing and laughing with the lyrics, guitar strumming, drum pounding. It was great - worth every penny. He dedicated the Wild Rover to Justin "...And it's no nay never, .... No nay never no more .... And he'll play the Wild Rover, no never no more...". What a surreal experience to have musicians in the basement right by the Playstation - but it was great!
At 3:30, when we had agreed the party was to end, we packed our bags, gathered the family and
took off for the honeymoon.
I am still debating about blogging about that- the honeymoon - some things are precious and private. Suffice it to say that married life, though leaving me a little tired, has agreed with me.
Let me just say, this was the best plan of the whole day. We were both excited and tired and stressed from the drama of people who are WAY more high-strung than either of us are. We pre-arranged with my sister-in-law to clear the basement ( you can hear everything upstairs) so that we could "change". We went into what was now our bedroom, threw off our wedding attire, consummated our marriage, and grabbed a shower. Sorry, no more intimate details except to say that this was unbelievably valuable in terms of stress release - as well as giving us an hour to remember why we went through all the drama of the last three weeks and what all this fuss was about. And we're married, so we're allowed.
At some point during our absence, the rain stopped, the musicians showed up, and snacks were served. We emerged feeling much better about live in general and had about 20 minutes to circulate among our friends before the rest of the group started showing up.
My girlfriends from work were first - God Bless them. They had to listen to me giggle and gush all last week, but there they were promptly at 12:30, saying congrats. Then other folks started to file in, none of the neighbors from here, but a couple from Justin's neighborhood. Some people brought gifts, others just brought love - and that was great too. The house saw a lot of laughter and camaraderie - I would consider it properly house-warmed.
We ordered cake from the local bakery, it was SO INCREDIBLY GOOD with about half an inch of real butter frosting and yellow pudding cake that nearly drips. Rather than a traditional wedding cake we opted for a sheet cake with Pepe' le Pew and Penelope ( you know the Warner Brother's skunk and cat duo) - lying on their tummies gazing into each other's eyes. Perfect for us.
We had our friend, Duncan, play in the basement since outside was still too wet. Nothing better than a Scotsman and his wife in your basement singing drinking songs - with kids and adults bouncing and laughing with the lyrics, guitar strumming, drum pounding. It was great - worth every penny. He dedicated the Wild Rover to Justin "...And it's no nay never, .... No nay never no more .... And he'll play the Wild Rover, no never no more...". What a surreal experience to have musicians in the basement right by the Playstation - but it was great!
At 3:30, when we had agreed the party was to end, we packed our bags, gathered the family and
took off for the honeymoon.
I am still debating about blogging about that- the honeymoon - some things are precious and private. Suffice it to say that married life, though leaving me a little tired, has agreed with me.
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