Feels like Rain

The last several months have been a series of setbacks for my dad. First the chemo didn't do anthing, then they tried another chemo, but the tumors which surround his kidneys kept blocking them off further and further, delaying more chemo to shrink the tumors blocking the kidneys.

He is having surgery this morning, to place kidney stents, but may end up on dialysis anyway this evening if things don't improve quickly.

It just seems like an endless cycle, and there isn't anything I can to to help.

I've been praying - as much for my own strength as for my folks, I think.

So if you get a minute today, say a little prayer for us.

Things that make me wonder about my sanity

1. We got baby chickens in December - and while the weather has been pretty mild, said chickens are still in cages in my front room - four cages to be exact.

2. We are going to have a Superbowl party - in the room where said chickens currently reside on Sunday after:

3. I have promised to go to my friends daughters' birthday party - which is two hours away and will probably take up most of the day on Saturday.

4. We have move Religious Ed to Sunday morning - which means I won't be home from church activities until 11.

5. All of this points to the fact that I will have to clean the house on Friday for a party on Sunday - which is not likely to work since said house is occupied by three males, four cats, about a zillion finches and, you know, the chickens.

So if you come over to the house for the party, and there is a random chicken feather under your chair, please ignore it for me. And the wings I'm cooking didn't belong to anyone I know.

Ivy's Baby boy

This weekend, when the sun was warm and the sky was clear, Ivy gave birth to Baby Ferdinand. he is a beautiful and healthy buckling. More pictures than you ever wanted over at Scenes from Loner's Ridge.

The Butterfly Princess

She followed her mother on the elevator. A pale and fine boned woman whose two children showed no trace on her figure. She wore a bracelet with those tiny white cube baby bead letters and a thin brown leather strap. The sister had come in first, a carbon copy of her pale and beautiful mother. The little girl looked up, auburn curls framing her cherubic face. Her long dark lashes framing her seeking eyes. It is January, but she is dressed in a ballerina costume of purple tulle, pink satin, and sheer plum purple butterfly wings that are nearly at broad as she is tall. Her little satin slippers, decorated with jewels, shuffle into the elevator, barely touching hardwood floor between bounces. She reminds me about the wonderful thing about Tiggers.

I smiled at her - thinking of my own beatiful little girl bouncing and smiling at strangers.

I said: You are about to make someone very happy, I bet.
She beamed up at me and between the bouncing told me: My daddy's in pain, but I'm going to go fix it!

O little one, that it were so easy.

Stolen Jewel: ( from Hoosierboy)

Tom Brady , after living a full life, died.
When he got to heaven, God was showing him around. They came to a modest little house with a faded Patriots flag in the window
"Tom," said God. "This is very special; not everyone gets a house up here."
Tom felt special, indeed, and walked up to his house.
On his way up the porch, he noticed another house just around the corner. It was a 3-story mansion with a blue and white sidewalk, a 50-foot tall flagpole with an enormous Colts logo flag, and in every window, an Indianapolis Colts towel.
Tom looked at God and said "God, I'm not trying to be ungrateful, but I have a question. I was an all-pro QB who won the Super Bowl, and I even went to the Hall of Fame."
God said "So what's your point Tom?"
"Well, why does Peyton Manning get a better house than me?"
God chuckled, and said: Tom, that's not Peyton's house, it's mine."
Go Blue!!

I love you honey - but...

This morning while recovering from last night's game, I made Peyton Manning my friend on My Space. What's a girl to do when he has that lazer rocket arm???

Holy Shit! We're going to the SUPERBOWL!!!

Be still my heart. As if it weren't enough that Da Bears return to the Superbowl - and I am hopeful that they will do an updated version of the Superbowl Shuffle from 1985 - Peyton and the Indianapolis Colts came back - with an array of receivers, Two Defensive players who scored touchdowns and even better - an interception when there was less than a minute to play Oh yea, and we got it all on tape.

Superbowl party at our house, so if you're in teh neighborhood on the 4th, stop by.

Don't worry, when the next problem comes along, it will be so much worse, that you'll forget all about this.

Life certainly is a struggle, isn't it. A series of mountains - and when you finally climb one, there seems to be another to climb. Justin's struggle to find a job, Jerra's struggle to find a better job and get through another semester when her life seems to be here, Josh's struggle to become the young man he is destined to be, and Jake - the hardest fighter of all of us. He struggles each day to try to be normal, when he certainly doesn't feel normal. He struggles to fit in, to pay attention, to get his schoolwork done - and compared to his struggle, my little daily trials don't seem like much. I think that God gave him to me to help teach me thankfulness - and patience. Both of which I need reminders about frequently. I have been trying to stop reacting and being more proactive about things - trying to head them off before they become a problem - trusting my instincts.

Isn't it funny how the person you are at 40 isn't at all who you thought you'd be? I was looking over the weekend at my spa$e and found some folks I went to high school with. Funny how the guys seem to still look the same, even some 20 years later. I wonder what the 17 year old version of me would think of the present version. I don't know. What I do know is that each day, it seems I learn more about how things work, how to handle people who are purposely cruel, and most importantly how to apologize quickly when I am an ass. Eh, it happens more often than I would like to admit. darnit.

I still have this undeniable feeling, though, like there is something else I should be doing, but I don't know what that is. It seems like there are so many people who are out there hurting and I wish there was a way to help in a more tangible way - though I guess saying a prayer for them is better than nothing. I got online last night and did some catching up on blogs. People are really struggling - with their jobs, with their kids, with sobriety, with abstainance, with who they are and who they want to be. I wish there was a magic answer, and that there was something aI could say other than: I lived through it, I know how much it cuts, and what kind of scar it will leave - but you will live. I wish there was a balm to sooth it and bring peace - but there is only the strength in scar tissue, the salt of the tears I cry for people I don't even know, and the hope that all things work for good for those who love the Lord - and for those who are learning to.

Bumps

Last night, Justin was working late for the temp company so I was on duty to feed and water everyone before bedtime. Since we are anticipating the birth of a couple of new kids, I waited in the goat pen to make sure the pregnant does got their share of the feed. We have two does, one of ours and one of our friends' in with Sarah and baby Mary, so that the buck won't bother them while they are trying to give birth. You girls know what I am talking about - there is that point in the delivery where you want to strangle the man that did this to you - and, well, these girls have horns, so they might be able to do some damage!

As I stood there watching Tope, I put my hand on the right side of her belly.It was taught beneath her winter coat. Her udders are swollen with milk, so she must be close. Then I felt the raucous kicking of her little one - or ones, we don't know. The father is either George, the beautiful red and black Nigerian buck or possibly Carmel colored Luke, who was about 5 months old when he was suddenly gone. I am hoping for a Luke-baby.

I have kind of a tactile memory - which is funny because I beat the tar out of my hands with all the dirt-farming I do of late. That baby rolling past my fingertips immediately took me back to the days of being pregnant with my own kids. I remembered being pregnant with Bear, my belly full of possibilty and responsibility all at the same time. I was 20 - who the hell knows how to be a good mom at 20? I loved laying on the bed, with the fan hung over the bed with uncurled coat hangers, and watching that lump of baby roll from one side to another. She was an easy baby and spent most of her rolling time midbelly (as opposed to Jake who was either in my ribs or grinding into my hipbones THE WHOLE TIME). I was so proud of that lump that I was one of those moms who wore dresses showing the bump, instead of the tent kind. I liked getting that pregnancy cleavage, too. I remember wondering if "they" would ever grow, then I got pregnant and whammo - there they were. The new curves were great- and I even wore a two piece suit when I'd go cool off at Lake Monroe after working that double shift at Pizza Hut ( cause the baby was gonna have to eat). I'd go on my break and make garlic bread with fresh mushrooms and tons of mozzerella cheese...mmmmmm sorry you lost me there for a minute.

I broke down and wore a couple of those tent dresses late in the pregnancy, when the July heat was just more than I could bear, but mostly I wore old shirts where I could see her move and feel her little foot against the inside of my belly. She liked John Cougar Mellencamp's Scarecrow album - well of course she did, we were living in Southern Indiana at the time - and she'd really roll about for that.

I felt great when I was pregnant. It seems to be the only time that all my hormones are in alignment. My weight goes down, my skin clears up, and I have tons of energy. That season is past now. In a couple of weeks I'll have a procedure that will probably make me infertile - and while a part of me is sad, I certainly don't have any plans for more babies anytime soon. It's just another twist - so in lieu of more babies of my own, I'll let go of that dream of having 10 kids, and keep working on the reality of mama goats and baby goats and fresh milk and cheese.

Hope

This has been a week where "the world" has cut me some slack by being full of those stories that show how wonderful life can be. A man jumped onto the subway to rescue a stranger, The person with the tape of Steve Irwin's death returned it to his widow, behaving in an honorable way in a world that would have paid big dollars for him to do otherwise, firemen delivered a baby in New York, a couple of guys caught a 4 year old who was falling out of a window, a puppy who has been gone for a long time, showed up at the other end of the country, and has now been returned to her owners, my long lost friend is back to being my friend again - so much so that she told me to stop whining which was something I needed to hear, I might get a job offer to make more money and if I do, I already like the girl I'll be working with, and whatever was trying to get in to eat my chickens didn't make it in.

Yep all that in one week - you'd think the Earth was spinning backwards or something.

Then I went to the Gluten Free Girl. Her name is Shauna, and like many of us, she searched and hoped for love for a long time, she'll be forty next year. She is up for a blog award because of her wonderful story, Yes, warning: I was streaming tears at my desk, but you already know what a sap I am for a love story. Read it when you have a minute and want to be submerged in a bit of hope, it did it for me.

PS I don't care if I sound sappy, I am so ready to be back to my happier self and thankful that the world is getting back into alignment.

The Goat Lady

For Christmas I received a great book called The Goat Lady. It is the true story of a woman who was French Canadian and had owned a farm. Then, her husband died, and part of the farms sold off, and she was surrounded by suburbs. The woman who did hte illustrations is a school art teacher who knew this wonderful lady and decided a book was in order. It is a lovely book - and even though I have always wanted to be Aunt Meg from Twister when I grew up, I have changed my mind, and decided this image is more true to where I am headed!

How to live rich when you have no money

This morning as I was looking at my Yahoo home page, one of the leading articles was about finding happiness in 2007. Having an insatiable need to learn - I clicked over and found this article which very adeptly describes how to find what makes you happy and build on it. It isn't really a new idea, more like one of those things you "know" but is left floating just outside of the consciousness.

It made me think about a sermon I once heard, that changed how I viewed things. It was back when I was a single mom, and as one, I was nearly always broke. I remember thinking that if I just had more money, I would be happier. PFFT.

The priest started by saying that we are all stewards of what we are given. That we are given according to our need, not our wants, our needs. Sometimes our needs are greater than our wallet, and those situations are designed to let others act charitably. Other times, we have more than we need, and it is our responsibility to be charitable as well. My kids would ask why we sould give money to drunks at the grocery store who we were pretty sure would just spend the money on booze ( actually, I went to getting gift cards at the fast food place, so they would get food and not booze) I explained that my responsibility is to give to those in need - if I have two coats I have to give one away. The person who recieves, is then responsible to make sure that what I have given is used for the right purpose. That burden isn't on me, it is on the recipient. Of course, it is good to help assure that things are on the up and up. I don't send money to TV preachers - or to people that I deem less than reputable, but I do help others when I can.

After a problem with one of my friends, I never lend money that I expect to receive back - that is for banks, and it isn't worth the cost of a friendship. I have always thought part of stewardship was making sure money was used for good, whenever possible - so I have often used my money to go see friends - to be at a wedding or a birthday - or come for a visit, even when I couldn't afford it per se, the money was spend doing exactly what Christ did: showing people that they matter, that their lives are important to someone else, that it's just money. There is the promise that needs will be met, and that the Lord will be sufficient unto the day, and I have yet to see otherwise.

Need is a funny word. We need food and a place to live and clothes. But Cable isn't a need, neither is home internet service, neither is lawn service. Those are wants and people get them a little muddled. They cry out to God to meet their needs, when what they really want is for God to meet their wants. I wonder how we will view Justin's job hunt 10 years from now - since I think he "needs" a job, but 15 months later, one has not been provided. Maybe it is a want and not a need. We make enough to pay our bills - to meet our needs - and we have to watch the wants a little more closely, but so far, so good.

People are funny about money. Oddly enough, it isn't really ours. That is the whole idea of stewardship: being responsible and wise in the care of something that doesn't beling to you. Certainly we can't take it with us- and if you look at folks who are making millions per movie, their lives can testify that money doesn't buy happiness either. But look further, at the folks who give lots of it away - they are much happier because they know the truth.

I work for a hospital, so when my paycheck comes, that money is temporarily mine, though some is already promised to my mortgage, my utilities and my car payment. But the hospital got that money from patients and their insurance companies, who got it from their employers, who got it from their customers, who got it from their employers and so on. Thus the common phrase at our house: It's just money, we'll make more.

My dad worked for an accounting firm when we lived in Indy, he traveled a lot, did a lot of trouble shooting and in the end, worked his butt off for that glorious high paying salary. He told me, not long after that, to never take a job you hate just for the money. It is better to do something you love and just meet your debts than to make lots of money at a job that eats you alive. When I stopped worrying about getting the highest paying job, and focused on what is really important: the ability to balance time at a job I like with time spent with my family whom I like, I learned to live within the amount in my paycheck.

And I learned that happiness for me is a little farm and baby chicks and enough money to put food on the table, even if we will never live in a $500,000 home like some of my kids friends, what we have is sufficient, and bears all the signs of a rich life.

Night Owls

I won't swear that this is what woke me up at 2 this morning - and kept me up until about 4 - but I have the strong suspicion that no cat in their right mind would venture into woods guarded by a dozen dogs, and we haven't seen a raccoon or possum since the construction annihilated the 17 acres of woods behind our house. The noise was something between a peep - like the baby chickens make - and a screech - like something in pain. It sounded very similar, though, to the sound the baby finches make - annoying and urgent.

For much of the night, the ducks were uneasy, like something was wrong - but we couldn't find any problems even after a couple of trips out to the pen. Then about two, there was a noise that came from a stand of pine trees where we have seen the two barn owls roost in the past. I am hopeful that they will get their parenting rhythm under control, or I am going to be one sleep deprived girl until these guys learn to hunt for themselves.