Quiet

It is almost 11 and the room is dark.  We saw doctors and nurse practitioners and assorted EEG and EKG techs as well as a slieu of nurses to start this journey - and frankly, I am tired.

Jake was so intrigued by the sheer number of people in and out of our room that he started trying to call them all by name - something I am woefully inadequate at doing - and when he couldn't remember the names, he would just wave.  He had a blast and the staff is really taken with him.

We went down to breakfast at the Ronald McDonald house and amazingly, the one other family from Georgia happened to be down there.  I talked to the mom for a long time and when I get back over there I'll add her to FB and we can correspond.  We have had a lot of the same experiences with providers in the Atlanta area, and we are seeing the same docs here.  Her daughter has epilepsy as well and just had the sutgery to eliminate her seizures.   She told me to keep the room  - and since I don't believe in coincidences and I was looking for an answer to that question, I took the advice and kept the room.  It will give me solice for the next couple of days so that I can go and take a shower in peace.  The house is only 5 minutes away on foot - and I really loved the gardens.

Jake is wrapped up in his red blanket - the one I bought for him when we moved back to Lafayette 11 years ago - he said it was a necessity and 10 minutes after I covered him up, he was breathing that soft rhythmic sound of peaceful sleep.

Tonight I am focusing on the gift of good friends.  I have had so many notes, so many texts and phone calls with offers to help and to keep us in prayer.  This is such a blessing and I want to just be grateful for those people who stepped up.   What a gift they are to the soul.

What do you think about when you have 11 hours to think

1. I will never again make someone a priority in my life - not their feelings of guilt, not their discomforts, not their self-esteem, not them as a whole - when I am an option in their life.  I have two friends who were sent emails asking for specific feedback - and I got nothing back.  Not "screw you" or I'm in the middle of something - or gosh, that would be great.  Just a big fat nothing. 
Let's be honest with one another - it is my pride that is hurt.  The feeling that I am not valuable enough to someone for them to write me back hurts my feelings.  It isn't necessarily a reflection of who either of us is- but rather, a reflection of the mutual respect we have for one another.

2. I need to re-evaluate what I am doing to motivate my kids - and get them moving along their path.  I know I am doing some things already - but I need to think of some other ways to help - I'll have plenty of time this week.

3. I am going to stop apologizing for helping out nearly every person who comes to me whether I have the resources or not.  It is the right thing to do - and whether they are taking advantage or not is between them and God - and has little to do with me.

Gratitude from a Willful Girl

Somewhere,  Lord, between the silence and the sound
I felt Your Hand upon my head
The way my father used to pat my hair
With the strength of hand which knew work
And the conviction of a peaceful soul

I felt your warmth as the sun streaked through the window
Melting my doubts with the reality of being wrapped in you

I knew your presence as you reassured me in the readings
Of the mother whose only son was restored to her when you felt pity

Your holy sacrament refreshed me as cool water from a stream
and I smiled after communion when I noticed the wine had been chilled

I have felt your comfort as person after person has relayed
Stories of healing, of hope, of a life that was changed on this path.

When I was disappointed in the behavior of people and in myself
You reassured me that Your time was not the same as my time

Most importantly, thank you for reminding me that old habits are a dry well

That the Path of the Prince of Peace brings joy in the morning
In the knowledge that You are in fact the strong man I sought to hold me,
I hear you whisper that you have a plan and a future for us
Plans to prosper and not to harm us,
And in your mercy, you have granted me sleep and solitude.

One More Day

I only have to get through one more day until our adventure begins.  I am glad that the wait is over, but there is a nagging issue that hasn't been resolved.

I know, funny, isn't it, that everything is packed, all of our registration is done, records are gathered, vacation time has been entered and the gas tank is full, but the one nagging issue is about a person.

I have had lots of time over the last two weeks to talk with those men who needed a conversation - a way of clearing my mental faculties and clearing my dance card, so to speak.  I have spoken with nearly all of my close friends- and they have been wonderful. I've had a talk with the kids and with Nicole and David who are not kids - and I am sure that things will move along just fine while I am gone.

But there is still this outlier.  Thoughts of him are like a radio playing softly in the bedroom with music that I know by heart, breaking through my consciousness when things are quiet for a moment and forcing me to sing the words without even thinking.  I can't turn it off - already tried that. There has not been resolution, and today when I tried to set up a time to meet face to face, I was aware that this little song may just continue playing in the background for quite some time.  Frustrating, but a possible reality. I don't have a quick little answer to this, so if you have one, let me know....

Temptation and the Boatboy

My friend Lora had a great church home in Dallas and she relayed to me some of the pearls in the sermon about on Satan and Temptation and how he messes with our heads.  He is much more intent when there is more at stake: say a preacher who could impact an entire parish if he sins, or a group trying to institute a ministry which is awash in miscommunication, or a marriage where each person starts focusing on their own needs and their pride until the whole covenant is a mess.

He does this in relationships- where things are misconstrued and there is chaos and hurt feelings, - damaging the bond if the people in question don't realize where the strife came from. He tempts us to withdraw and pull away - and the more important this relationship is, the more drama he tries to make.   He also does this when we pray for something specific by putting up something before us that is almost the answer or the outcome we prayed for - but something is missing.  The temptation being do we wait for what the Lord has promised, or do we settle for the bird in hand.

I have surrendered my search for a partner - resolving to be alone rather than settle again.  Instead, I have asked God to send to me a man with a good spirit and a love for Him.  Everything else will fall in line if these two aspects are the same for both of us.    Liking football is important, but not a deal breaker anymore. I asked Him for this specifically in July and it has been my prayer ever since.  Maybe this has happened already, maybe it is still happening - maybe it is ten years off - no matter.  I know that God will do this for me because it is the desire of my heart to share my life with the right someone.   And because it is so closely tied to my heart, I know that Satan will try to mess with it.

So all of a sudden, I have had men ask me out in totally unusual situations: at the store, at work, from eHarmony connections I made 6 months ago, at church - just weird. I am 40, overweight, and look tired most of the time from the burdens I bear- I am not aging as well as Jennifer Aniston is.   It is unfathomable that all of a sudden the "magic light" has turned on - but weird things keep happening- and many of them are clearly a temptation. Choose any of these, and my real blessing could be put further away. I think these are sent to muddy the waters so that when the person I have been sent shows up, I'll have a more difficult time picking him out of the crowd. ( as an aside,  if you are that person, and you are reading this, could you please raise your hand so I am sure to identify you? Just teasing, I'll know you, don't worry)

A man I have been waiting for to ask me out, finally did after church this week. We went to breakfast and talked about life and other sundry items.  But in listening to him, really paying attention to what he said, I realized that he is not the one. He's close and I could make it fit - the thought actually crossed my mind  - but it is not what is right for either of us - so coffee-drinking friends we will remain. 

Then today, I went to Hartwell to see patients.  There is a lovely park bordering the lake which is desolate and quiet and only the sound of the waves is heard when you close your eyes.  I brought my laptop and my sweet tea, set my suitjacket on the parkbench and sat on the ground.   I was praying with my eyes closed and letting the sun freckle my shoulders, when I heard a boat go by.  I didn't open my eyes, and as it passed, the boatboy sounded the horn.  Instinctively, I raised my hand and waved.   My eyes were shut again as the sound of the motor faded away. 

I didn't realize it was turning around until I heard the engine shift into a lower gear, and I opened my eyes again. He was standing behind the wheel of the boat, waving to me.  I waved back.  He asked if I would like to come for a ride with him.  The lake is beautiful and the air is cooler over the water.

A million thoughts went through my head: the first of which was: can he get me back in time for my appointment? then -where did this come from?  Who is this man and why would he think I would hop on a stranger's boat?  Am I missing an opportunity? Is this who I was praying for?  Am I really the kind of woman who would jump in without any assurance about who he is at all? What exactly does he have in mind for this boat ride?  And the winning question:  what kind of man asks a strange woman on a deserted beach to get on his boat without telling anyone where she is and thinks that she will go?  The answer: an axe murderer who is going to throw my body into the lake after he tortures me.  Horrible, I know, but if you read the news, you know these things happen to foolish women in deserted places - which was exactly the position I was in.  Super.

I thanked him and said that I was expected and really only had another 5 minutes or so before I had to go. 

I closed my eyes and offered a little more fervent prayer for protection. "I'd really like to take you out with me"  I shook my head no, then exhaled as I heard the boat pull away, but I didn't run.

The boat changed gears again and came back before me, even closer to the shoreline, this time  in reverse. He was now only about 15 feet from me, and I could see clearly that he was a little gray, lean, tan, and in a pair of swim trunks.

"Are you sure you don't want to go with me?  It will be fun." 

Temptation, not satisfied with letting me get away after one "no thank you" came back for one more pass and for extra measure, he flashed a smile that indicated he meant it.  Just in case I was lonely enough - or foolish enough - to take the offer on the table the third time.

I thanked him again, saying that I wasn't making it up, that I had patients to see at 3:30 and that I really had to go in just a minute.  I flashed him the biggest most charming smile I could muster, then he pulled away- this time speeding up to plane the boat, and I gathered my things and left the park. 

It wasn't some superhuman feat, I was definitely tempted and had I lost my focus on exactly who it is I am seeking, I could easily have asked him to beach the boat and come sit with me- or found a way to get his number or give him mine. He was handsome, and had a great smile- but I don't know anything about his heart and that is not who I am looking for.  I have a million numbers, I don't need more numbers, I need to wait - and so again tonight, I will drift off to dream of someone with a good spirit who has been led to me by God's will. Wherever you are tonight, I want you to know that I will wait for you, as long as it takes for you to be ready,  because your heart is worth it - and so is mine.

Love is overtaking my life. Super.

Back in May, I was sitting with the other clinicians from the Atlanta area at an outdoor venue in San Antionio. Sweltering in the heat, we were all joking that with the extent our jobs take over our lives, that staying single was a good plan. We bemoaned the difficulties of balancing work and romance. There were 4 of us - now I am the only hold out - having received 3 wedding invitations, over the past week.

My cousin is also getting married in a month - adding a 4th invitation.

My dear friend, Spencer, is getting married, to one of the clinicians mentioned above.

I have said adamantly no thank you to my marriage-minded dates - and have purposely only spent time with people who were too busy to push for marriage.  eHarmony was probably not my best choice since several of my matches had real potential, but I wasn't in a position to move things forward.  As I grow older, there are more and more people who are willing to settle for a warm body - I absolutely refuse to be one of those people.  I will not settle ever again,  but I will also not run away if some one who is the "real-deal" happens across my path.
Love has not been good to me - at least not the romantic kind. Eh, it happens. But it occurred to me that perhaps I had dismissed connections in my life which had potential to be great relationships in favor of attachments that were unhealthy because I was "needed". This is not a good choice, by the way. I may have not been nice to Love in the first place - and have quite possibly ignored it.  The idea of getting remarried, which had never been a part of my future plans because of the situation with my son, has actually crossed my mind as a possibility down the road provided the surgery does in fact rid him of epilepsy.  I always thought I would be one of those single older women who volunteered at the church and lived next door to her son because he needed the support.  You know the ones with a big garden, a couple of dogs in the backyard and some quirky art form like windmills or organic canning. I have learned to crochet and knit already in my singlehood, so I am well on my way.  I have envisioned having my grandkids roam in the creek and make a treehouse in the pines just outside my bedroom.  This may still be the case, but there are possibilities now.

I actually told someone recently that I had a crush on him as a result of reading some of his writings-crush being defined as a temporary infatuation, not a profession of undying love and adoration (that has to be earned, despite my level of great respect for him).  I have a crush on Jeff Saturday- center for the Colts - who is way too young, way to rich and way to married to ever be interested in me.  I have a crush on Trace Adkins - who has the same set of disqualifiers.  But these are men whose work I appreciate, whose words and actions have caught my attention,  and made me respect who they are as men.   I don't forsee myself showing up on either of their doorsteps professing my love - but when they are on TV or on the radio, I listen to what they say.

For any of my male readers, you know that getting a woman to actually pay attention to what you say is at times a challenge- so in this scenario, a crush is not such a bad thing. I think that what he has to say is valuable and I want to know what those ideas are.

So while love is taking over my calendar over the next couple of months, it will be interesting to see if it actually sneaks back into my life while I am busy doing other things. I promise, here and now, that should it show up on my front porch, or my inbox, that I will be a more hospitable hostess than I have been.

Moving Day

While I realize that it is not actually my responsibility to mother the entire planet- those people in need of mothering who are in my immediate viscinity, will be mothered.  I called two boys "sweetheart" at the gas station tonight - and between them they probably wondered if I had plum lost my mind with their tilted hats and saggy ghetto pants.

You see, I am back in my groove- and today - I decided that we needed to get the girl and her son moved out of that unsafe place.  The story was relayed yesterday that there are people sleeping in her apartment and drinking and throwing trash and smoking weed even though she isn't staying there - all after she received her eviction notice.  These same people refuse to help her pack or move ( and if one of you are reading this:shame on you - you need a mother very badly). So her parents aren't here - her baby daddy is busy - and all those people who were proportedly her friends cannot be bothered to help.  Well.....what am I supposed to do, just watch her lose everything and self-destruct?

But the real issue is: this isn't between me and her - or me and her parents - or me and that cute boy Charlie - it is between me and God.  When He presents me with a challenge, I am called to see Him in her face - in her soul- in who she is.  Would I have let someone come in and trash all of Jesus' stuff because it wasn't my problem?  Man, I hope not - thought I know sometimes I can be a jerk - I would hope that I would do the right thing.

So we moved as much as we could - and honestly, I wish I had a picture of those kitchen chairs that were tied with strips of bedsheets to the top of my Jeep - or the subsequent trip with the tabletop duct-taped to the roof.  Oh it was classy!

( the picture isn't actually us, but it is pretty close!)Now the whole area next to the driveway is covered in her furniture and the assorted things we could salvage.  That second phase of moving the items into the basement will be done by younger hands than mine. 

The only casualties were the aforementioned sheet and two broken nails.   Not bad, considering. 

It isn't permanent
It doesn't repair the damage done by others
It does give muscle and bone to what I say I believe
and it was the right thing to do.

Now I am going to PASS OUT because working all day and moving furniture all night is a bit much for a 44-year old!

For the Record

it is entirely possible that all 6-year-olds are correct and people of the opposite sex ( especially boys) do in fact, have cooties.

Peace Descends Again

Sometime while I wasn't paying attention, peace has settled back in. I missed it. We used to be such friends, but over the past month, we haven't been talking much because worrying and anxiety were taking up all my time. But I have asked God to escort them out the door - and now peace has descended again.

I worked on the Confirmation Retreat and even got the situation at my former parish resolved- or rather I resolved that being upset with the way people behaved wasn't helping anyone, so I went back to being involved in the Confirmation Ministry. I dreamed about it and realized that I was saying "no" out of pride. So told the Youth minister that I am all in - and it felt really GOOD.

After Mass, Father had offered to give Jake the annointing of the sick - where the holy oil is used to bless the hands and head and heart - and special prayers are said asking God to grant healing as well as asking Him to forgive sins and give Jake a clean soul. I know, that is a LOT of work for a little bit of annointing oil! After Father was finished, Jake rubbed it over his scar and into his hair, using the green oil on his palms to coat those places that need the healing the most.

The amazing thing about the oils is the way it smells - like heaven- like purity - like love - I don't know how to describe it. It is like the scent of something holy and lovely and it catches me by surprise even these hours after the annointing. I am still open to the "poof" miracle - anytime now Lord that you want to do that would be fine.  But I am confident in our future - and confident that He is watching over us- and everything will be just fine.

The very few things I know for sure about love- for a girl I love.

Someone I adore is hurting today, and I wanted to repost this, because I still believe it is true.  Love does not discriminate based on age or weight or convenience of schedule.  When it comes, you should be ready.  Don't let love pass you by because you are too frightented- hold on with both hands and thank God for the opportunity. 

Love is as real as the sunshine and the air we breathe.  It is alive and it wants to come live with you.

I believe in love - and that we can love someone all of our lives and never do anything about it.

I believe that love has been the most powerful motivator in my entire life- and if people were not so afraid of what it could do,  love could renovate a lot of lives.  Even Christ told us that God is Love ( and not the King who likes us a lot, maybe an 80 on a scale of 1-100)


I believe that you cannot choose who you love, but you can choose what you do about it.

There are people who have stayed in my heart for years - long after any flame had been extinguished -a profound musician said that you never stop loving somebody, you just start loving someone else. I have found this often to be true.

Love can be frightening as its wake washes over you like a tidal wave, leaving you feeling naked and exposed. It is often worn on the sleeve and difficult to conceal  - perhaps because of its sheer brute force, Love implodes into a life and things are never the same.

Love honestly and as completely as you can.  There is absolutely nothing more tragic than a true love lost - except for a true love that never was because someone was too afraid to try. 

Fireworks are not necessary for you to love someone - but they are VERY rare.  If you do have fireworks, definitely pay attention and see where things go.  The intensity of a connection like that is a harbinger of things to come.  ( I am experientially short here, so I am not sure what things exactly, but there has to be something amazing after that kind of a start to a story, right?)

Sacrifical love - a love of service freely given - is what we are called to give. But there is a big difference between sacrifice and enabling. Loving does not mean allowing the other person to behave in a way that is harmful to them and to you. Love does not diminish accountability.  Truly loving someone can also mean standing up to them and being honest when no one else will.

Two people who love should come to that partnership equally strong - different areas of different strengths, but equally strong. My dad always said that both people had to give 110% to make it work - he managed to be married to one woman for over 40 years - but that is a whole other note. Just because you love someone does not mean that you are healthy for each other - and continuing down the same path of destruction is no help to anyone.

There is no shame in deciding that an unhealthy path can no longer be the one you follow. It is much more difficult to be honest - to be respectful - to let go. Those are the things that love asks of us. The ability to care about someone so much that you are able to let go if the time comes.   Sometimes closure is something you have to give yourself- and in so doing you honor the love that you shared with someone else. You cannot choose who you love, but you can choose what you do about it.

Be Still and Know

The house is abuzz with packing and readying ourselves for our trip next week.  There is the nearly constant hum of Charlie who buzzes around like a spring wind removing the cobwebs from unseen places in the room.  There are job-searchers and life-searchers, musicians, artists,  and people waiting for their lives to start who all fill up my house these days.  It is busy and wonderful and noisy all at the same time.
Last night, though, there was peace.  The girls went out- then Josh and his friends went to practice their music at another mother's house - then the other boys all went to bed.  So I had the most delicious experience of laying in bed at 9:30 with a book and being able to read it uninterrupted.  Holy Mackerel, what a rewarding and decadent feeling that was.

I read Eat Pray Love because my mom was listening to the audiobook and said the author sounded like me.  (She does in many ways) So last night, in the quiet house with only the rain and occasional thunder as background noise, I finished the book.

The part that I loved the best was her path to find forgiveness - and you guessed it - she had to forgive herself first before she could move on with her life.    I feel like I am almost there.  Like the things I am regretful of have very nearly resolved themselves and that I am almost a version of myself that I can be proud of.  There is a particular anecdote where she describes her decision to be quiet as opposed to her normally verbose self.  She comes upon the realization that her verbal skills are a gift - that they are a part of who she is in the grand plan of God - and most importantly - that GOD  LIKES HER because of this part of her personality.  What a revelation. The concept that the very thing I am trying to change about who I am might be the thing God likes best about me.

I am a talker, but my real fault: I love too easily.  I see the good in people and overlook the negative to the point of my own detriment.  I have been trying to be more skeptical - but I have not succeeded - at all.  And you know what? I think I am just going to keep this trait.  The world is chock-full of people who criticize and judge and hurt.  I little more love is a good thing. People are hurting, they are full of fears and problems and pain - and love is like a balm to those things, bringing a sense of hope.  So as of this morning I will STOP trying to be more critical and careful with my heart - I resolve to keep it open and to continue to love those in my path even if they don't deserve it,  because Someone did that for me once, and it has made all the difference.

I slept peacefully, dreaming vividly throughout the night of Lunar Moths and church services,  stained glass windows and the light streaming in on Jake's face, and sitting high in a tree watching over my family.  Near dawn I was awakened by a limb crashing to the roof, and when the water didn't come pouring in, it was then I feel asleep again.  I dreamed that I was sleeping with my face very near the computer,  that I had fallen asleep waiting for you to come home.  I heard you come in and say " Ha, she's asleep and its quiet, that's a nice change of pace"  then you brushed the hair out of my face and kissed my cheek so as not to wake me.  The tactile memory of your lips on my cheek is present even in waking. I dreamed this dream of you and it was a sweet dream. 

Saying a little Prayer

When thoughts of you cross my mind this morning, I want to first thank the Lord for bringing you into my life.  My time with you teaches me about life, the power of  love, and where my dreams can take me.  Your words have helped me regain focus at a time where I felt lost, and I will always be indebted to you for that.

I pray for the Holy Spirit to grant you the gifts of right judgement, discernment and most of all inspiration.
I ask our Lord to bless you with peace and understanding that only He can give, and I ask the Father to show you his compassion and mercy and to lead you to His path.

Our paths may cross a thousand times before this life is through, or we may never meet again.  Either way, I will treasure the memories I have of you and the time that we have had together.

love and transformation

I had dinner tonight with Justin - whose title now is in question.  He is my friend.  We are not divorced - we are annulled-  having agreed that we shouldn't have gotten married, but we should have remained friends.  So he can just be my friend - does that work for you, dear reader, as well?  Okay, that is settled.

During our dinner, Tom Brady came on the screen. Not the Tom of last year with his cropped hair and serious facial expressions, but the Tom who has a couple of little kids at home and a beautiful wife.  His hair was longer and sunstreaked, he was kidding around more than usual on the sidelines and his skin was tanned.  He looked - well - happy.  Admittedly, I have not been a Tom fan - partly because I love Peyton Manning - and partly because he did some things I didn't agree with.  But there was no denying the power of peace and love in his life - it was written all over him.  And I actually liked watching him play against the Falcons tonight. I am not a convert yet, but I have gained a new respect for Tom as a fellow human being.

Justin says that he is also an example of that - how a woman who loves you can move your life. I did love him, and I love him still, that doesn't dissipate just because you live in seperate houses.  He is happier, has a great relationship with God which now includes teaching apologetics and RCIA at our former - well our present - church.  He does what he loves now- voice overs and movie reviews - as a paid gig along with his regular job. He has become the person that he wanted to be - not the epitome, mind you, but a much closer version.  And  the most important thing I heard him say tonight: he is open to loving someone again.  My heart just felt good about the possibilities for him.  He is a great guy - and will be a great husband for someone, it just wasn't me.

Love is such a powerful motivator.  To have someone see you in the nakedness of who you really are - what your darkest thoughts are- where your fears lie - when you are at your weakest moment- and to have that person say that they care for you, that they think you are more than you believe, that you are worthy of being loved - all of these are healing balm for the soul. The power of that bondedness has enabled great men and women throughout history to be a synergistic force - one person in the forefront, and their partner standing strongly behind them, reminding them that they are indeed stronger than they seem and braver than they believe. In hearing that message over and over again, we begin to embody it, and great things pour forth: dreams are realized and lives are transformed.

We continually beat ourselves up for things we have done.  I find that if I make a mistake it is earth-shattering, but if a friend makes the same mistake, I remind her of her humanity and tell her to forgive herself.   I am working to stop this very destructive cycle by reminding myself that if God can forgive me, it is pretty pretentious for me to hold onto my sin.  If I would forgive my friend, I should forgive myself.

Love has the capacity to transform us into an even better version of ourselves.

And to begin that path of hope, since love isn't always on the same time table that I am on, I will start by loving myself.

Believing Your Own Press - a lesson in Humility

I was in college before I knew that my family had money.  I happened to be talking to this nice Lebanese boy who was in the IU Business School and when he asked what my father did for a living ( he was a CFO at the time) his brows went up and he declared that we were wealthy. I was shocked.

It wasn't until my father's funeral that we heard the litany of football hero stories from his early adulthood.  We had no idea that he still held passing records at Logansport High School, or that he was in the Hall of Fame at University of Detroit.  We just didn't know- because he didn't talk much about it, and when someone would bring it up, he would downplay the whole thing.

I was on TV several times while in high school - even  athlete of the week once.  Never thought it was important - still don't in the grand scheme of things.

I think the most important thing I learned from my father was to never believe your own press - your own cabinet full of accolades - all those people who tell you how amazing and wonderful and irreplaceable you are.  Mostly because opinions change.  There is always a new winner of the Superbowl, the World Series, and the World Cup.  There is always a new hero on the scene.  I  love getting awards as much as the next person - especially if they are monetary - but I have found that while I may be the team hero in January, in June I might be the weakest link in the team chain.

The greatest temptation of Christ was probably not corporal, but the temptation of power - of recognition- of having everyone's allegiance and respect ( at least externally).  It is an intoxicating potion, the perception that we are something special - that we are somehow gifted and blessed above others.  And the more we hear these comments, the more likely we are to actually start believing them. We WANT to believe them.

We start saying things like: I deserve better; He isn't good enough for me; she is just not in my class of people, I would never be seen in public with him/ her or in THAT.   We start to believe our own press agent who is busy convincing the world that we are something amazing.

All of us have our gifts, and channelled into our calling, we can be amazing- but it is an aspect of us.  Michaelangelo was a great artisan, but could he make a great pot of soup?  Who knows. But the odds are he wasn't amazing at everything - so while he had a talent, and he put it to good use, he was just a guy like the rest of us.

I'll never forget a very heated argument that I had with my friend who also works for my same company.  She had encouraged me to write down all the things I did that were over and above my job description, to list out the lives I had impacted and the special projects I had worked on.  My job involves both my skill set and my calling. I am usually pretty good at it - but I am not amazing at everything.  So I refused to do this - and said it wasn't that important.  In the end, I decided to compromise and kind of make a list in order to provide rationale for my promotion ( a monetary reward will get me motivated) but it still wasn't as much as she wanted.

So the moral of the story is that we have to be humble, keep our amazingness to ourselves, and let our actions brag about who we are, rather than our words.

Not Cheerleader - I'm a Trainer!

My dad coached football from the time I was in third grade until long after I had kids of my own.  In the early days, I was the water girl - running in during the time outs and helping lug equipment back and forth to practice.

As I grew older, I tried my hand at being a cheerleader.  All it took was one game where the other girls didn't know if we were on offence or defense, and I had decided this was not for me.

When I got to high school, I still went to practice.  During two a days, I stood back with all the parents and watched practice. Iron Mike McGinley came over to me after practice and asked if I'd like to be the trainer for the varsity team.  I went home and talked it over with my dad.  A resounding yes followed and so began my path as an athletic trainer.

I went through 6 weeks of classes - went to every practice for all 4 seasons I was at Cathedral - then added in basketball for my junior and senior years.   I lettered in football for 4 years and in basketball for 2.  I wrapped a zillion ankles and wrists and butterflied cuts and iced down all sorts of parts.  It was remarkable and rewarding and made me want to be an orthopedist when I got through college.  I enrolled in IU in the athletic training program, made the cut and was well on my way to finishing my clinical hours.  How that changed is a whole other story.

The point is, there is a big difference between the cheerleaders on the sidelines and the coaching staff.  While both may be female, as a trainer, my job is not to distract the players from their focus on the game, but to allow them to get healthy- get taped up - get hydrated - and get back in the game as quickly as possible.  Our goals are the same, the player and the trainer - to win the game through optimal performance.  Their win is my win, even if I never put my hands on the ball.  During the game, we are all business - talking about the defense, talking about game strategy and who is healthy enough to substitute.  When the game is won, and the time is appropriate for relaxing - then it is okay for me to be a distraction. I learned to be patient, to wait for the right time, to help my players keep their focus- it wasn't unusual for me to even have a conversation with particular girlfriends to tell them to wait until after the game to talk to their man. 

I will not be a cheerleader - chanting rote hymns over and over again without realizing that we are now on offense again.  It is important to know what is going on in the game - very imporant, in fact. The difference is in the ability to be helpful versus being a beautiful distraction.  I would choose helpful more often than not. It is the same way in life - when you care about someone, the ability to be supportive, to help them reach their goal, to stand quietly behind them and tape them up behind the scenes - allows both of you to succeed.

Well in Hand

I have had a lot of bodies in my hands.

It occurred to me today when thinking about how we impact each other's hearts without any physical contact - I have had a lot of people's parts in my hands.

I have started IVs,  wiped bottoms, cleaned blood and glass and rocks out of wounds, moved splinters and stitches and staples, packed wounds full of gauze and inserted all manner of tubes into bodies over the years. It occurred to me that there are very few parts that I haven't held in my gloved hand - like a gall bladder or a spleen- but that list is pretty short.  When you make a career out of healing the body, very little escapes you - I still do physical assessment when I order at the counter of Panera and when I see people at church.  Old habits, I guess. At times I think this familiarity with the physical skews my interactions- I tend to be pretty tactile in my conversations and interactions - a result of all that touching.

Even now, that I do a lot of education, I spend an ample amount of time prodding people in the belly looking for lipodystrophy from insulin injections, evaluating infusion sites, and putting in CGM sensors.

When I was in nursing school, I had a teacher who believed in having us jump right in.  So on my second week of clinicals - when I was supposed to be learning how to make the bed and fill the ice pitcher - she allowed me to start an irrigating catheter.

The gentleman in question was about 40, muscular and tan from working construction.  He had stones that had not flushed through bladder, so we needed to rinse it out.

At that time, I already had 2 children, so it was not the first male part I had seen, but it was the first one I was going to accost with a catheter.  So I held it firmly in hand and cleaned with Betadine.  As I was performing my task, my instructor led several of the other student nurses into the room.  I was distracted, so I just kept cleaning away. What should have been a 30 second procedure, lasted a couple of minutes.

I was startled back to attention when the gentleman in question stated: If I had know you were going to do such a good job, I would have come in without my wife."

The room erupted in laughter.

With blazing hot cheeks and a blush the size of Montana, I completed the task and left the gentleman to rinse.

If you cannot handle me at my worst, then you do not deserve me at my best

The past month has been really tough for me, not that I am complaining, well, I guess I am a little, but nevertheless, it has been tough.  I have been alone for so long that I usually stand just fine on my own, but lately that is not the case - I need people, I need contact, I crave diversion.  See:  I have not been myself, exactly.  I have caught myself being needy and overly emotional - I even lost my temper and yelled at the kids on Sunday night and the yelling was assinine: over who stole my razor out of the bathroom coupled with my frustration at not being able to shave before I went to the pool.  Completely ridiculous. I have not been at my best.  Actually, because of the drawn out nature of this, I think it has been more emotional than when my dad had cancer.  I knew the outcome to expect with the cancer- he knew the outcome- and once we accepted that, we could go from there.  This is more of an unknown- the perfect breeding ground for fear.

There is a quote by Mae West that goes something like this: if you cannot handle me at my worst, then you certainly do not deserve me at my best.

While Mae was not the bastion of relationship advice that some might think, this bit, has some real truth in it.

People who offer to be there during a time that you really need them, show you the depth of their character. My kids and my brother have really stepped up and I come home to a clean house most every day.  I have had tons of people offer to cook meals, go with me to Cleveland, FIND people to visit us in Cleveland, arrange for Communion to be brought over, and take me out for a diversion until the time comes in two weeks. My mom has offered to come stay with us-and my best friend who lives in North Carolina has offered to go with me the week of the actual surgery -and to come back here if I need her.  God has so richly blessed me with her.    I have had comments here, on FB and via email of support, prayers and good wishes that have just filled my heart to overflowing. I got notes from my former sister in law and mother in law - they were really kind and unexpected.

Coming to terms is a process, though, I think. Should I continue this way, I wouldn't be surprised if I was totally at peace with this before we ever left for Cleveland.

I got a really nice note from Justin a couple of days ago -offering to take me out to help kill some evening time.  Honestly, that is where I struggle- when my work is done and I have time to sit and think.  I have seen more movies and gone out for more coffee in the past two weeks than I have in forever.   The A-Team was pretty good, by the way.

So this week, we are going to dinner.  This event drew some criticism at home, but reality is that we attempted to make a life together, sharing our affection, our bank accounts and our bed, so it does not seem unreasonable that we are back to being friends.Being there for me at my worst was never his strong suit, though, and this is an opportunity for him to "be there" and be successful at it.    I think we will always be friends - though I am not sure what you call someone when your marriage was annulled- your almost ex?  Don't know.   I am opting for just Justin.

But I am thankful for his friendship - for his offer - and for the ability to continue the friend part of our relationship even though the romance didn't pan out.

How to know if you are rich ( from Jacob Stories)

This morning as I struggled to wake up, Jake comes hopping into my room - red shirt blazing the retinas of my eyes. He asks if he can have some money today for school, I make the fatal error of asking why. He tells me that he would like to buy ice cream at lunch today - that all the rich kids get to buy ice cream at school. I remind him of the Breyers he had just before bed last night- and he says "well, we have more ice cream here than they do at school, I guess we are richer than I thought"



Yep, buddy, we sure are.

Thirteen Days is a Long Time

In thirteen days we will meet the neurosurgeon who I like already because she went to Indiana University just like I did.

In twelve days Jake and I will pack our bags and drive up to Cleveland Ohio - together in the car for 9 hours and will watch about 6 movies in the process.

In eleven days we will go with friends to the Perogie Festival.  We'll head over to 5PM Mass and afterwards ask Father to give Jake the Annointing of the Sick

In ten days I will go to Mercier's Orchard in Blue Ridge and buy peaches after visiting with my good friend over lunch in Blairsville. I may break down and buy a pie as well - who knows.

In nine days I will spend the whole day in Toccoa and sit by the little park near the Falls where it is secluded and quiet and reminds me of some piece of the Garden of Eden: perfection

In eight days  we will be in Hartwell - and Lavonia - and Royston and about a dozen other little spots visiting people with diabetes.

In seven days I meet with my fellow clinicians at Eclipse deLuna for tappas and laughter and support only girlfriends can give.

In six days I will go to my new church and again marvel at the choir and the passionate homily by the Monsignior and the lovely people who come to 9am Mass on Sunday morning. Then to Eagle's Landing for Cajun breakfast, followed by an attempt at a day of rest again.  I really enjoyed it.

In five days I will help out with the Confirmation workshop at my "old" church because they asked me to  - thus bringing peace to a situation that never should have had conflict

In four days I will attempt to work from home -but will probably fail and spend the day doing laundry or making jam or doing online learning because I am so distracted.

In three days I am going to dinner with Justin because now that we are friends again, it seemed like the thing to do.

In two days I will meet with a group of people who use our technology to help with their blood sugar control- then I will drive wildly home in order to present a Webinar on the exact same subject.   Weird.
Then to Wednesday church for a meeting to help organize the youth group - because I need more to do.

In one day there is a trip to Athens and to the UGA student center, then on to Winder and to my poker league.  ( a girl needs to have some fun, right?)

But for today, there is still a shred of daylight, and still the sense of hope for things to come....and a little bit of open space on my calendar which needs to be filled- so I'm off to go be alive.  You should try it- it is pretty liberating .

What are you afraid of?

When a Navajo person passes away, they place their wedding rings on the thumb.  Only people who are ghost wear rings on their thumbs- and there were a number of People who asked me about the ring on my thumb.  I wore a ring with a crucifix on it then, nearly 11 years ago now.  It kept bothering the grandmothers, so I moved it, even though I like having  a ring on my thumb.

In 2003, I had put myself in a bad spot.  According to my daughter, I had given someone credit for being a better human being than he was.  And when the threats started- then the abuse started, I grew ashamed and I grew fearful.  As is always the case, the more trouble I was in, the more intense my faith life was.  I was looking for anything to help fix a troubled relationship, so I went into the Christian Bookstore in Lafayette and happened across this ring at the check out counter.

"Fear Not" it said.

Fear not, the first words the angel said to Mary at the Annunciation.  The words Christ said over and over again as he healed people.  The words  I have said to my children when they are afraid as well.

I have worn this ring for 7 years now.  The top part of all the letters has faded, but the message has not. 
I wear it on my thumb, also as a reminder that the person I was, the person who allowed bad things to enter her life and infect her family, is a ghost. 

It reminded me not to be afraid - or rather - not to let fear be my motivator - when Dan was trying to hurt us.  Not to be afraid as I watched my father struggle with cancer - not to be afraid when I saw Jerra struggling and pulling away from her family - not to be afraid when I had to start over again as marriage didn't pan out, not to be afraid as Jake's seizures have gotten longer and more intense and unpredictable.

The ability to meet these challenges with clear focus, rather than in panic, is imperitive.  You don't have the luxury of falling apart when the tornado is headed for your house.  Someone has to hold it together, and in a single-parent household, that would be me - where the buck stops.

Fear has been defined as the absence of faith.  I don't know that I agree with that entirely: I have a fear of copperhead snakes because they live in my woods and they will bite me- that isn't an unreasonable fear.  But if I never went outside because I might possibly run across a snake, that would be unhealthy and a lack of faith. Maybe it is my own abilities - my own frailties - that I lack faith in.

So, over the past few days I looked at what I was really afraid of. 
1. Afraid that Jake's surgery might not go well and that I might lose him entirely or lose a part of him that I adore.
2. Afraid that I won't ge able to adequately step up to the task that God has presented me .
3. Afraid that maybe I have missed my calling  - or that I will not be open to it when it comes around again.  4. Afraid that I may live my entire existence without ever loving someone who loved me back 

Oddly snakes and tornadoes didn't even make the list.  Go figure.

Addressing these is a pretty big task.  Can't do anything about 1, except pray and ask for divine intervention - daily - repeatedly - until the storm has passed.  2. I have to keep doing what I know is right, keep my eye on the prize and be honest with those I am tasked to take care of. Four of my charges are old enough to take care of themselves, but through situations in their lives, they cannot. I need to teach them to fish on their own- at least I think that is what I have been charged with 3.I have to believe that if God is really calling me to do something, He will call me a second time. 4, oh number 4, I have no idea what to do about this.  Bishop Morton's wife made a statement that I thought was so powerful that it changed my prayers. " lots of women pray for a man who is handsome or strong or wealthy.  I prayed for God to bring me a man with a good spirit and a good heart.  Pray for this and a good man will be brought to you."  Maybe the fear is my Achilles heel, maybe I am called to be single, but honestly, I hope God hears my prayer and that there is someone for me out there.

Getting to know you

I started these notes 6 years ago, when my life started this metamorphosis that began with leaving a very ugly situation, moving my kids to Georgia and now, learning to live on my own again.    I had an incident a couple of weeks ago, where I met, in person, a writer whom I had previously known only through his writing.  I found myself instantly comfortable and felt as though we had known each other for years.  After all, over the past year, I've been reading what he wrote, and like any new follower of someone's blog, I went back and read some of the older entries as well. I read about his love for his kids, the loss of his father, the struggle with becoming the kind of person he genuinely is, and the funny tidbits that peppered his writing. There is so much love and passion in his wirting that had I never met him in person, I would have already held him in high regard because I liked how he responded to things and because I could see myself in his struggles. I had thought, while reading, that he would be a great friend and if I am being entirely honest, the kind of man I would love to find. 

During the course of these years, I have met a number of my blog buddies in person: Mark, Jeanna, Ian, Summer, Chris, Nora and Jerry come to mind.  Nora and Jerry even showed up at my dad's viewing in Logansport after I posted the news of his death.  A LOT of people who are my friends on Facebook, came from my friendships through our blogs.  Just because our friendship has started through a virtual medium, doesn't mean that the emotion and the affection for each other is only virtual. Because I tend to write what is really in my heart - or in my head -I assume that reading someone else's blog lets you in on who the person is.  We become friends by being a part of each other's lives.  I think that is the definition- right?  I have found EVERYONE that I met in person to be very much like I anticipated as a result of "reading" them and when I have loved their writing, I have loved the person "in person" as well.  Shocking I know.

There was a time when I didn't love people very well- when my life was mostly selfish, spent trying to find someone who would love me in spite of the two kids at home.  While that time makes for some really interesting stories, it was not the version of MY self that I wanted to be, so after Jake was born, I resolved to focus on my kids and less on my love life.  There were 7 years that I raised them alone before I ever started dating again.   I should have waited another 7 and that would have worked out perfectly, but that is another story entirely. Now, however, I love people very easily.  I used to think it was semantics, loving versus liking, but it isn't. I love when I try to see them as Christ would see them - valuable, precious, amazing- I think those are a good start.

Well, the rest of this story is that I missed it with this new/old friend. I know, you are saying to yourself, but she is so charming and loveable, how could she mess this up, believe me, dear reader, I apparently have tricks up my sleeve that even I wasn't aware of.  Sometimes I can be a little daft, and while I had read lots that he had written, he in the reverse, had not read anything that I had written before. So he didn't really know me at all.   So a non-daft person would behave as though you were new friends, cautious about the boundaries, asking lots of questions, letting him call you first, you know.  Unfortunatley,  I felt a comeraderie that had me let down my guard: calling when the thought struck me and brazenly ask when he'd be availiable to hang out, just like I do with my friends. In my daftness - missed that he was just getting started in the path of learning who I was- and his only experience was during those short conversations and brief meetings - my affection looked disproportionate. So I looked like a fruit loop. Or worse, the very thing we both said we found unappealing: someone who plans out their whole life with us after one date because they are so afraid of being alone. Super.

 I am hopeful that God will speak to his heart and that he will give me a second shot at being friends.  Really, there is very little downside for him, since I have already shown my cards and told him that I like him and that I'd like to see where things go.  I left the door wide open- but I think only God could make him look back to see what is inside.  If it doesn't happen, then, I'll learn from this and move on. He may not be the first man to leave, but he is certainly one of the best. 

PS: should the man in question read this, by some miracle, this is my apology for every single second I caused you to feel uncomfortable.  That was the very last thing I wanted to do, and I am genuinely sorry. Please consider allowing me to make it up to you.

Putting your money where your mouth is.

When we lived in Arizona, a Che' told me that if a person had wealth and a home and his famliy was not taken care of, that the person was living out of harmony.  A life in harmony distributes wealth and makes sure that everyone eats, everyone has what he needs, and no one person can flaunt their wealth over others.   He was a very wise man, and his way of describing stewardship makes a lot of sense to me - and it has worked for him for a VERY long time.

First I must preface this with the statement that this is in no way a glorification of some great thing I did.  That isn't my  purpose, though those comments continue to roll in, they make me feel uncomfortable.  What has transpired is merely the outward appearance of my inward belief that nothing which is technically "mine" really belongs to me.  When I am buried, someone else will take my home and my jewelry and whatever other earthly posessions I have.  The Lord will direct the location of my soul - so really, there is nothing that belongs to me.  Money is important only when we run out, so in the interim, I believe it is my responsibility as a good steward to be Christ to those around me. 

Several months ago, my brother, who has been incredibly brave in the face of his issues, ran out of money and ran out of hope.  I drove up to Indiana to pick him up, and at 3 in the morning, we loaded all of his earthly posessions into the back of my Jeep and made for Georgia.  He is in a better place now, both spritually and financially, though he just isn't completely "there" yet.  He needs a place, I have room, he lives with me until he is ready to go.  Seems pretty cut and dried - and it surprises me the number of people who think this is an extraordinary thing to do.  He's my brother, for Pete's sake and he was homeless, what was I to do, let him live in his car or under a bridge?  Sorry, not really an option.

Then, a couple of weeks ago, I found out that a single mom who is a friend of ours was being evicted.  She is also not in a good place mentally or financially.  And her son, who is 4, needs to be somewhere safe and clean.  So I talked with Jake about her situation.  Jake, who is already facing surgery , who is a teenager trapped at home as a result of the epilepsy, and who has plenty of reason to feel like life has shorted him.  In moments like this, I wonder if he is some secret angel sent by God to remind me that there is a purity of heart and a simple goodness in each of us - he just seems to have it in spades. You get the picture.  Jake offered to move into my room and to let this friend and her son have his room.  I was impressed.  Then, he took everything of his out of the room - without being asked - moved a mattress in and added clean sheets to make sure they were accomodated.  He and Josh moved all the furniture and assorted items to make way for these folks - with zero complaining.

I was talking to the boys about this, and was told that they felt that this was the right thing to do: that plenty of people put money in the cup for homeless people, but not enough open their homes.  Josh said it wasn't that difficult to accomodate someone and that it was the right thing to do.  I have to agree.  I am so impressed by his maturity and by his focus on things that are "enlightented" to use his word.

I love having the little guy around.  It is just joyful and exciting and loud and all those things the house used to be when my boys were little.  To be honest, I really was hoping to have another child back in '05, but that was not meant to be. I have missed the patter of litle feet - especially because now all 3 of my kids tower over me.  I'll like being a grandma, though, when that time comes - not rushing it, but I can hardly wait.

My dad was a CFO, and was markedly better at finances than I am.  He had always said that I should marry a man who could balance my checkbook and take that one very hated task off my plate.  Hasn't happened yet, and the checkbook still isn't balanced.    Instead, we have the current method, give until you are broke, then go make more money.    What, doesn't that appear really fiscally sound to you?

But an odd thing happens: the more I give away, the more I receive.  The less I focus on storing up my money, the more money there is to store.  It is a little wierd, by earthly standards, but it is exactly what God says He will do.  I take one step, He takes the next three.  I invited these folks to stay with me, and I got a call 3 days later that I was getting a $7,000 raise this next year. Maybe you could argue that it was a coincidence, but I don't believe in coincidences. So, since the current system does not seem broken, I will not fix it.

More updates to come, as having 6 people in the house makes for some interesting stories. 

Luck and the Ladykiller

For work I am blessed to cover this little town nestled in the North Georgia Mountains which seems to attract all the elderly drug dealers, hippies, and braniacs from the rest of the state.  It is such an eclectic spot that I love to go sit in the coffee house and just people watch...okay, they also have Dancing Goat coffee which is my favorite in the WORLD.

Today, however, my boss was riding with me, so we did not go to the coffeeshop, we were working.  She is one of my best friends and just happened to get promoted to my boss.  Makes life easier when you take direction from someone you respect and love, but that is off topic.  We drove past the recreation area, past the gorge and into this little town.  When we walked into the office, my patient wasn't there yet.  The lady at the counter who is about my age said that the patient had let her know that he'd be late. 

So she calls this man- who is old enough to be my father - and tells him that I am there waiting on him and gives me a little wink.  Seriously? Yes, she was serious.  She then went on to tell me that this man had been quite the ladykiller in his day and that I should take him into consideration.  Holy Moley. I am a bit aghast.

Sadly, my mind tried to follow this line of thought as she rambled on about how he typically had several women staying at his farm back when he grew marijuana for a living.  Lets just stop for a minute and think about that.  I have a professional license, I work for a Fortune 100 very conservative company,  I am in their office in a suit, and though I am lacking a wedding ring, do I actually appear like a woman who is interested in a man who deals and grows marijuana for a living?  My first thought would be....no.

Okay- if I were in my hippie skirt and my hair was still sunstreaked and long and I had my turquoise Navajo jewelry on, I could see it, but not in my suit.

 Now I think he is charming- he has a quick wit and I always find myself laughing with his easy conversation. He has the kind of strong hands that come from manual labor and his Jeep actually looks like he drives it off -road. He was again wearing his overalls and his ponytail was mostly obscured by a large straw hat which also covered his brow. He is a big guy- probably 6'3" and were it not for the very mangled teeth in his lower jaw, I'd say he has a captivating smile.  But there are those teeth which are a real barrier for me.  He sat really close to me on the couch while we worked our insulin magic, but honestly, he isn't in to me either ( I think it is the suit.)

Needless to say, I did not give away my heart today while uploading his insulin pump.  But it did make me think:   Over the past several years I have found no shortage of 40+ year old men who by their descriptions, have never let someone know them and love them entirely.  They have kept a portion of themselves locked away, as though keeping this one piece protects them from losing themselves. In my experience, keeping your real self, your real desires to yourself only blocks the ability of someone to know you.  This is not to say that I advocate just behaving hedonisticly and without regard for others.  But that behaving as who you really are is important.  If you are the hero, be the hero...or the poet, or the hunter, or the whatever your archetype is. Authenticity is incredibly sexy - if the right person is on the receiving end. 

Oddly, in this same group of men, I have had no shortage of propositions- lots of people think being friends-with-benefits is a way to fulfill a need without risking the intimacy. The system is not built that way and by 40 most people should* know that. (*unless you have been married for the last 30 years and you didn't experience much dating before you got married)  I cannot believe the number of men who have blatantly asked if I'll take them home.  I will not. Gotta say that I don't see that as a viable option. I want the person I sleep with to actually have feelings for me, and for me to care about them outside of the bedroom.  It seems to me like an insult to love - a smack in the face to the idea that God has created men and women to be in partnership and love one another.  Anyone who knows me, knows that I am not prudish, but just like all other cycles in life, there is a time for lovemaking and a time for arguing.  I am open to loving someone and will not refuse to show who I really am.  The beauty of being a woman over 40 is that I don't have to pretend to be anyone other than myself.  If I want to talk to you, I will call.  If I am upset about something, I won't let it fester, I'll get it out in the open.  If I act like an ass, I'll say I am sorry and actually mean it.

Perhaps this is not the season of my life which will include romantic love. Probably not with a ladykiller, in any case.  I'm okay with that too. But my dad always said that Luck was preparation meeting opportunity.  So I am planning to continue to be prepared, and keeping my faith that the opportunity will present itself when it is time.

Transplantation

I have to admit that when we first moved to Georgia, I loved everything about it.  It was a refuge for us, and being here meant we could sleep safely in our beds. Over time, though, I had some difficulty embracing the differences in the culture.  I think it was because we moved here under duress and there was a time where I REALLY wanted to go home to Indiana, but a very nasty ex kept that from happening. As a result, I began to see this as a prison, rather than a refuge, somewhere I was stuck instead of my destination.

My thought process went like this: I could move home and be near my whole huge family and all the friends I grew up with - move the kids back to their school system and all of their friends - but sleep with one eye open waiting for the day that he discovers us and carries out his ugly intentions. OR stay in Georgia where it is safe, and you can sleep at night, but you will be without your family.  Honestly, neither of these is particularly appealing, but pragmatic thought obviously won out and we are here- apparently for the duration.

I still have a little difficulty adjusting to the differences in decorum.  Shocking, I know. I can spot a transplant a mile away, unfortunately. They tend to have that loud Northern demeanor which I have found makes some people who are from here a little uncomfortable.  We don't mean anything by it, it is just a cultural difference. Folks here have been raised to be more subdued, more refined I guess.  There is the air of genteel properness that is lovely on one hand, but just begs to have the corset loosened for a few minutes so you can breathe. Men open doors, pull out chairs and say thank you, ma'am.  It is remarkably charming. There is an overall emphasis on order, and properness, and well manicured lawns. I have gotten used to wearing a suit to make trailer visits to insulin pump patients, I bought high heeled shoes and I cut my hair and colored my gray to look more professional ( which I still think is silly, I have a pretty impressive resume, who cares what I look like).  It fascinates me, really, because I felt like there were so many years that I was in the same lifestyle of forced restraint and half-truths.  I wonder if people really feel the tepid emotions they convey, or if they are seething underneath the surface.  Not that I am advocating wearing your heart on your sleeve as I unconsciously do, that has some REAL downside when you are trying to play it cool.  Oddly, neither of these approaches is always right, and I do not mean at all to condemn the way Southerners do things - most of my friends are Southerners and I adore them.

 I come from a very large, very boisterous Irish Catholic family - with enough Scottish and Italian thrown in to keep things interesting. There are 14 aunts and uncles if you count all of my folks brothers and sisters - and now the cousins and their children are too numerous to count.  If you know anything about Irish Catholics, you know we LOVE to be around other people: telling stories, developing relationships, having a drink and hearing all about someone else's life. We adopt people and take them into the clan- inviting them to baptisms and wakes and random celebrations. We take on new members pretty quickly- so if you aren't a total train-wreck, we take you in----and even if you are, sometimes, we take you in, depends on the day.  We take being there for others very, very seriously.   If I am being objective and honest I would say that we have some boundary issues by local standards.  We love people, I mean really love them - until we get a reason not to.  I think this is the reason our house is always filled to the brim with kids and people.  It is why even during the times that Josh's friends were into some music-related behaviors that I absolutely did not approve of, they still wanted to be here, it is a safe haven and I am really proud of that.

I have FINALLY developed a love for Georgia: the mountains, the peach orchards, the immense growing season, the beach at Tybee Island, the lakes, Tallulah Gorge, Blood Mountain Trading post, Grinds and Glazes, Mercier's Orchard,and most of all the charming people who have the slow syrupy drawl that is like some exotic music to the ears.  When I run into someone who talks like that, well they could read the dictionary and I just melt. I have learned that while I have trouble being restrained to a certain degree, there are merits to that behavior.  Maybe Southerners don't get their hearts stomped on.... or maybe the do and just don't publicly wallow in it. 

So I chalk my awkwardness up to the cultural differences, though in time I hope that you won't be able to tell I'm a transplant.

Epilepsy and August 30th

That is the day we start our journey toward curing this epilepsy.  Cleveland Clinic set the appointment yesterday for brain mapping, a PET scan, neuropsychological testing, and a video EEG which will induce seizures and carefully map where they originate from.  Most of me is very excited about the possibilities, I have the disadvantage of having gone through this once before. There is a part of me which is really scared for selfish reasons.

When Jake was 18 months old, he started having seizures.  He would get this look of terror on his face, then turning blue, drop to the floor and stop breathing.  Sometimes he would start breathing again on his own, sometimes I would have to start rescue breathing after 3 minutes.

 The first couple of times I called the paramedics.  By the time they got to the scene 10 minutes after the seizure had started, he was sleepy but his vital signs were good.  I remember after a particularly long seizure where he planted his little face into my hardwood floors that I took him into the ER myself, flanked by Jerra and Josh.  The ER physician looked me straight in the face and said that maybe I was just overreacting and that he didn't look like a child who had seizures. ( apparently, those children have a big red "I have seizures sign on their foreheads" which we were lacking). I felt dejected and silly- but at the same time angry.

Then began a year and a half of trying to take time off from the job that was paying all of the bills to go down to Riley and get testing done and see the Neurologists. I cannot figure out, short of divine providence, how I was able to afford all those trips on the meager salary I was earning as a public health nurse.  I think I have blocked out the number of sedated tests that were done after an IV was started and we had endured his pitiful cries for us to stop.  It was horrific.

A miracle happened after one of the dozen CT Scans of his head: a radiologist stopped me in the hallway and said that after we got the seizures under control, we should see an ENT  get his nasal polyps removed. 

It was another 6 months before Dr Berner, who I had worked with in the ER, looked at Jake's nose.  Pardon the language, but "Holy shit" was his first response to what he saw.  There was a huge mass of tissue in the left sinuses.  He sent us for a CT of the sinuses and said he'd call me on Tuesday.  Late in the day, in the middle of our immunization clinic, he called, saying that he had just gotten off the phone with the neurosurgeon and that we would be sending Jake to surgery to have the tissue put back in place and have the hole repaired.   My work-partner made me sit down as I repeated the words.

I struggled with whether to even call his dad, since he hadn't seen him in over a year.  My father's advice to be Christlike in my decision overtook my anger and I called him, bringing him up to speed.  His father and his new wife accompanied us on the day of surgery. He has been diligent in seeing his son ever since then.

As it was explained to me later, there was a part of the brain which had formed outside the protection of the normal cavity.  Should Jake get hit in the nose, this mass would open, and he would lose consciousness and die.  For the following weeks as we got ready and donated blood  I was scared to death that something would happen to him.  I can only say that his Guardian Angel was very tired trying to keep him safe.

The worst part, and the part I hate to go through again was the waiting.  My folks kept the other two kids, and my friend Skjeie sat with me throughout the surgery.  It cannot have been an easy task and my fear came in waves and I counted the minutes that he was in surgery.  It lasted more than 6 hours.  That is a long time to sit with a mother who is a little panicked about the state of her child.  Skjeie will always hold a special place in my heart for the kindness he showed me that day.

In the days that followed there was pain that I couldn't explain to him, swelling all over his head and face and the stares of everyone who passed us as the 56 stitches looked like a black tiara across his head.

Can I just say that I would probably feel better about this if it was me, instead of him?  I remember thinking about the fact that God gave up His son- that He understood my pain and my fear  - even though my scenerio paled in comparison to that of the Crucifixion.

We went for 8 years without seizures until one night, about 3 months before we left Indiana, Jake had another seizure and it started all over again.  He was 11 - so for 3 years a single medication taken daily eradicated his seizures. We think it was all the growth hormones which triggered the seizures and made the medication ineffective.  He has put on close to 100 pounds and almost 9 inches in the past year.

Then last August, he started having them without provocation, when he was studying, when he was walking in the woods, swimming, waiting for icecream at the restaurant,cleaning his room,  while riding in the car, at a funeral just sitting, and even playing cards.  There has been no rhyme or reason.  I know that God only gives me what I can handle, but the unpredictable nature of these made me feel entirely powerless.   It has been the most awful experience. Jake is under constant supervision and is subjected to Jerra and I checking in with him all the time.  He cannot get his driver's license, he cannot just head off to the movies, he cannot go for a bike ride. I had resigned myself to staying single the rest of my life as someone would need to live with Jake.  It is a tough existance for him. He takes medication every 4 hours during the day to maintain high blood levels, but on the two occasions that his meds were a couple of hours late, he had a breakthrough seizure. 

I was worried about going through this alone.  I think for some reason I believed that I needed someone to love and comfort me through this.  I was reminded this morning that while having someone with broad shoulders would be great, it is a want and not a need.  The real truth is that the Holy Spirit will bring me comfort, my friends will be there for me, my family will stand shoulder to shoulder with me as we wait upon the Lord to heal Jake.

God has blessed him with a sturdy body - which he has needed since the seizures cause all of his muscles to contract and leave him exhausted.  He will be healthy before the surgery and there is the great possibility that he will be totally seizure free after the surgery.  How could I say no to hope?

Being True

What does that mean exactly?  Someone said that it was important, to be true to yourself, and I think they are right.  At this juncture in my life, it is important that I understand who I am and what I can and cannot tolerate- and that I stay true to that vision.

Did you see the movie All About Steve?  It wasn't a cinematic smash, but it had a very powerful message: be true to who you really are. Regardless of what the public opinion was, the lead character stayed true, loved others and was open to adventure.  What I liked most was her ability to always think kindly of the object of her affection ( something I do to a fault as well). 

So here are the 10 things that I really am:

1. Child of God: by some miracle He loves me in all my faultedness....actually He created me to be this way so I need to be careful to not insult Him with all this fault business.

2. Dave Loner's daughter: which means I was well educated, well traveled, well loved, and introduced to football at a young age( so I know the difference between the Wildcat Offense and the I-Formation).  I think anything is possible if you are willing to work hard enough for it because my daddy said that was so, and I value humility above all other virtues.

3. As a result of both of the above I live passionately: I love gelato and dark chocolate and nearly rare steaks on the grill, I  like to go places and pack my suitcase about an hour before I leave, I like to experience people and places I haven't seen before, I love a good adventure and at the end I want to be able to say "what a ride THAT was, thanks Lord" and pass on.

4. Mother: fiercely defensive and protective of her kids- and any other kids who happen to wander into my home.  I mother everyone- even when they don't want mothering.  My kids friends all call me Mama, which is weird sometimes because there are other aspects to me than just being the mother.  But: I love babies and cooking and a clean house and canning food for the winter, so a mama I definitely am. I worry about kids in the grocery store whose parents seem really stressed out, I worry about elderly people who don't have a reliable person to help them, I worry about people in poverty, in addictions, in situations where their soul is at risk of giving up.  Maybe worry isn't the word, more like concern or compassion, and I ask God to watch over them.

5. Granolahead: who respects the environment by recycling, using a gray water system, planting my own vegetables, baking my own bread, growing fruit trees and berry bushes, carefully transplanting seedling trees, avoiding pesticides and herbicides like the plague, buying Organic and Local  whenever possible, and most importantly, I am careful about what I do to the earth because 7 Generations after me will feel the effects, and we shouldn't tick off grandkids who aren't even a twinkle in someone's eye yet.

6. Lover: I adore people- I like being in love -  and the sensation that comes with getting to know how someone operates.  I don't get fireworks ( with one exception) anymore as I see men in a more comprehensive way than I did in my younger days.  It takes a lot to really impress me.  But I have learned that all of us are human, with failings and frailties and amazing potential.  I don't think it is hard to love someone - anyone really - if you are willing to look for the qualities that make them like Christ.  Maybe it is their compassion, their wirting abilities, their singing voice, their love for their family, their humility...the list is endless.  Don't get me wrong, this doesn't mean I go about telling random inappropriate people I am in love with them.  But it does mean that I don't know any other way to love than to jump right in and love with all my heart.  Not sure where that came from, but it is often a surefire way to get my heart broken in a zillion tiny pieces.  On the other hand, I never look back and think I didn't give it my every effort.  I like not having regrets for the most part. In my experience, a broken heart is much easier to fix than a regret. It is important for people to hear that they are valuable, desireable, loveable, and worthy of having someone think they are pretty amazing.  These thoughts are not conveyed nearly often enough.  ( sidenote: if you are blessed enough to have someone who loves you, make sure they know how important they are to you)

7. Powerhouse: from the time I was a little girl, I remember my mom and dad telling me that my steps were too heavy, or that I was being loud.  I am not a bitty girl, and honestly, I have accepted that I do things in a big way.  Not intentionally, not with some sort of bravado, but as a result of being a woman who is almost 6 foot tall.   This is NOT the physique that I would have chosen, a more svelte form was more my ideal, but it has it's functionality.  I am able to move timbers, carry two kids on my hip while cooking dinner, move Jake ( who is 260 himself) when he is dead weight after a seizure, pack and unpack for a dozen moves and most importantly I can reach the top shelf myself- important if you are single most of your adult life.

8 Healer: It is not I title I like to give myself, because just saying that you are a healer betrays the humility required to be a good healer. If I am to be honest and true, I need to include this on the list since is it both my profession and my passion.  I studied, both at school and in workshops, to be able to help others through medicine.  I derive great pleasure when someone I have helped gets back to health.  The one unfortunate thing is that even in the throes of passion, I am doing physical assessment.  A little inconvenient, I know.  But if you spend 20 years looking at bodies and how their operations impact the person's quality of life, it is hard to stop. The downside to being a healer is that you can find yourself trying to heal people who aren't ready to let go of being sick..  That's difficult to walk away from, difficult to stomach, but I must. 

9 Advocate: My profession requires that I be an advocate for my patients, their families, their providers, and anyone else involved.  Additionally, I am an advocate for my as-of-yet unborn grandchildren, as I try to guide my children down a path that will allow them to be great parents and provide for these grandchildren at the appropriate time.  I am an advocate for my company, touting it's ethical and innovative way of doing business and encouraging providers to adopt the therapies that will improve their patient's quality of life.

10.Friend and family member: I show up.  More often than not.  Christmas, funerals, birthdays, weddings, family crisis.  I show up.  We can get so focused on things that we neglect to show those we love how very important they are to us- to the world.  Showing up is my trademark, and something I am proud to do.


I hope this was not to painfully boring for anyone who actually reads what I write.  It was important to me to write it down, think about it, and make sure that who I think I am and how I behave are in alignment.  And, today, they are.