Open My Eyes Lord

Sometimes God uses circumstances to open my eyes, and I really don’t like what I see.  There is a family in our community that is dysfunctional at best.  About 6 or 7 years ago, some of their kids starting coming to our church’s kids program.  I was a leader at the time and I can remember being there, hoping that these kids weren’t going to show up that night because they were so disruptive and difficult.  Over the years I have worked with several of the kids in that family, and while I’ve been pleased at how they have changed (somewhat) in their behavior, I never had much nice to say about the family and the parents in particular.  At various times I was disgusted, angry and frustrated with how they were raising their family.  And, even though they were less disruptive, I still found myself from time to time hoping the kids wouldn’t be there some nights.

Recently we learned that the mom had cancer.  I prayed for her, but even as I prayed, there was a part of me that wondered if she was exaggerating how bad it was, just for attention.  When our pastor announced in church one morning that she had died suddenly the night before, I felt like I had just been slapped in the face.  And I felt guilty.  Guilty for doubting her.  Guilty for the things I had thought about her kids.  God opened my eyes that morning when I learned that she had asked Jesus into her heart and life not long before.  Jesus died for her too.  He loved her.  And I imagine He was none too pleased with my attitude towards someone that He loved enough to go to the cross for.  I did a lot of soul searching in the next few days.  And I started praying for that family, in earnest and with genuine love.  I even prayed that the kids would keep coming to our church’s program.  In fact, I pleaded with God to allow some way for them to continue coming.  And when they didn’t show up the next time we had it, I was disappointed.  And began praying harder.  I don’t know if they will be able to come back, but I hope that the next time God places disruptive children in my path, I will remember what I have learned and welcome them.  Without judging. 

Black Friday thoughts

Ok, so I’m reading the Sunday paper this morning, since I never seem to get around to reading it on Sunday, and what jumps out at me are the number of ads for the Friday after Thanksgiving, or “Black Friday”.  They announce that stores will be open at 3 AM or that great deals are to be had by all who attend and generally infer that this is something you just can’t miss.  That it would be un-American  not go to the stores in the wee hours of Friday morning and hunt for that elusive perfect gift at rock bottom prices.   Because I am on antidepressants, with the desired effect of avoiding any suicidal tendencies, I have no inclination to venture out into the blackness of early Friday morning and place myself into the throng of people shoving their way through the stores.  I do like the bargains, but look for them from the safety and relative sanity of my own home, online.   It strikes me, however,  that the stories and ads for Friday far outnumber any mentions of the Thanksgiving holiday that occurs the day before.  What happened to the day set aside to give thanks for the blessings we have received throughout the year?  The day where family gathered together and sat down to a meal prepared with love (ok, at least prepared at home) then visited after and just took a break from the busyness of our everyday lives.  When the story of the settlers in Plymouth, later known as the Pilgrims, was remembered.  How their faith brought them to this New World and their God sustained them through that first difficult year.  Maybe it’s just me, because those settlers are my ancestors, but it seems like we are so caught up in the “things” and the “feast” and the football games and the “adventure” of shopping first thing Friday, that we have forgotten what Thanksgiving is meant to be.  A day to set aside from the world and it’s “stuff” and just reflect on the mercies that God has blessed us with in the previous year.  For me this year, there are many.  We have two new additions to the family, one brand new granddaughter and one slightly used (but still special) son-in-law.  We have the relief of knowing my mother-in-law is being well cared for in the nursing home while my father-in-law, who took excellent care of her at home, can now regain his health and take part in life again.  We have had our share of unemployment and stress over bills and school and all that, but each time God has proven He is there and able to provide.  This year, I will be able to sit at the table and look around at our seven daughters, three son-in-laws, three grandsons and two granddaughters, my husband and father-in-law and see my blessings.  It may not be that way next year.  I will think of my family out east and wish we could be together, but will be thankful for them and all that they have experienced this year.  I will be able to be thankful for our church family, and the kids I work with at church, and my friends and our daughters’ friends and families and the list goes on and on and on. So I am going to put all my energy this week into celebrating on Thursday.  And Friday, I choose to be “un-American” and spend the day at home.  Where the only shoving and pushing will come when everyone wants to use the one bathroom we have at the same time or get the last piece of apple pie left from the day before!

Pepsi memories

Just opened a bottle of Pepsi.   And thought of my grandma.  Not that grandma drank Pepsi, although she may have.  But that there were always bottles of Pepsi in the fridge at grandma’s.  My aunt and cousin lived there and I know they drank it.  It was a treat when we got to have some too.  Pepsi then came in those short glass bottles.  It just always tasted so good. 

Then when I was in college, I spent a summer at my friend’s parent’s home.  This friend happened to be the cousin of the guy I ended up marrying, but that’s another story.  There was always Pepsi in the fridge there too, only it was a 2 liter bottle.  It was a life saver when C. and I both ended up with horrid Mountain Dew withdrawal headaches since that was all we ever drank at school.  And her dad, my husband’s uncle, gave our first daughter her very first taste of pop, Pepsi, when we were visiting a few years later.  I had managed to get her through the first two years without her knowing what pop was (and therefore never had to share mine).  Thanks Uncle L.!

Several years later,  Pepsi became the drink of choice when my best friend and I had our chicken butchering parties.  We had the table, a fire with boiling water, butchering knives, buckets for the feathers and other chicken butchering by-products and our bottles of Pepsi.  Any time we painted, canned, cleaned or had a road trip the Pepsi was with us.  But mostly when we did the chickens.  She’s gone now, cancer.  But a 16 oz plastic bottle of Pepsi brings back the memories!

Funny what triggers memories and good feelings sometimes!

Some change is a good thing

I’m not opposed to change in general. I like new furniture, the fun of exploring a new car, the changes in the seasons. Adding a son-in-law and a new grandbaby to the family is a good change. My problem has been so much change is such a short time. I feel like I’m literally chasing myself around a circular track and there is no way off. Even my dreams are about all the changes in our lives lately. Can we spell “stress”? I found myself watching those I love decline with health and age issues. I see others I love struggle financially or with relationships. I see friends move away. I was beginning to feel like there was no point to even trying to get every day stuff done, because I was sure another crisis or event or change was going to come along and mess up all my plans. Not a good place to be, psychologically speaking. But you know what someone reminded me of recently? There is something in my life that NEVER changes. He is always there, waiting for me to stop being a blathering idiot and just come to Him for help. Why do I get so caught up in the changes that I forget to spend time with the one who is unchangeable? So that is my new goal for now…to spend time, maybe a little, maybe a lot, in prayer and in The Word, talking to the Big Guy. And not just talking, but listening. I think that may be the key to saving what is left of my sanity.

What Happened?

I was listening to Christmas music on the computer tonight (yes, I am listening to Christmas music before Thanksgiving…so sue me) and some old songs came on that reminded me of Christmas when I was little.  And it occurred to me….where has time gone?  I swear it wasn’t that long ago that I was 8 and couldn’t wait for Christmas to come, excited about the presents, the songs, going to both of my grandmas on Christmas Day, seeing my cousins, wearing new outfits.  I have so many memories of Christmases… I remember going to the community center in kindergarten and singing The Drummer Boy for the senior citizens, banging on our oatmeal carton drums….being in the Christmas parade in town, freezing in my Girl Scout uniform….knowing the schedule for every Christmas special, Rudolph, Charlie Brown, Frosty the Snowman….onion dip and chips before dinner at Grandma Cook’s, squeezing everyone into the living room at Grandma Jones’.   A fire in the fireplace and our aunt Madeline letting us throw Christmas paper in there and watching the colors flame up. (She also had a nifty trick of throwing Dixie cups in there and the colored wax made pretty flames)  Christmas dinner….all around the big table in the dining room, unless you were at the kid’s table in the kitchen (which could be a lot of fun).  Supper on Christmas at Grandma Cook’s, which was mostly desserts and pop.  Pies, ice cream, bars, toffee, sarsaparilla,  cookies, candy….need I continue? Coming home late at night in the dark.  It was my favorite time of year. 

So what happened?  All of a sudden I am not only looking forward to Christmas with my own kids, but my grandkids!  Counting my hubby’s parents, there are 18 of us.  And that’s with only two of the girls married, one fiance and 4 grandkids.  But where did all those years go?  How could it go by so fast?  Part of me still feels like that little girl who just can’t wait.  I think I need to focus more on her and less on the mom who looks at all the work involved.  I think this year Christmas (and Thanksgiving) are going to be a lot of fun!!

Say what?

I just heard about a government dude in New Zealand who made the comment that anyone with a genetic disease that could be passed on to any offspring should not have children that will end up being a drain on the health care system. Huh? And what was really disturbing? The internet thread I read it on had an awful lot of people who thought it was a good idea. Wow. That is a scary thought. The government deciding who can and cannot have kids. Do they have any idea how many diseases are thought to be hereditary, at least in part? Diabetes, depression, bi-polar disorders, even some cancers? These people on the discussion board compared it to breeding out undesirable characteristics and weaknesses in horses. We should curtail the breeding of sickly people so we can have a society of healthy ones. Hmmm….only problem with that theory is that even two healthy seemingly perfect horses can have a foal with problems. So who gets to decide who can “breed” and who can’t? According to this thinking, my husband, who has diabetes, and I, who has a long history of depression, never should have had kids. I’m sure our seven girls, who are, at least the older ones, a part of the working, tax paying, productive society they are predicted to be a drain on, will be surprised to hear that. Sometimes I think the world is headed for a very scary place. Other times, I know for sure it is.

Further Adventures with “The Truck”

Last winter I wrote a story about the day I did chores for daughter #3 and had issues with her truck. Well, today The Truck and I had another adventure. Daughter #3 got a job and is currently working five 12 hour shifts a week. The feed she ordered for her goats and calves wasn’t going to be ready until after she had to be at work. So she asks me if I could go pick it up. Ordinarily I wouldn’t mind, but since it is almost 1000# of feed, the only vehicle I can use is The Truck. In case you never read my other adventure, The Truck has been lifted, making about 8 feet off the ground. Ok, I exaggerate…but I have asked for a small ladder so I can get into the thing, which I have not received yet. But since it is Friday and if I don’t pick it up the animals will have nothing to eat all weekend and none of us wants to deal with a cranky goat or calf, I agree to pick it up.  Now, since the winter adventure, The Truck has developed more door issues. You have to lift this and push that just right to get the driver’s door to shut. I do not possess the proper technique,  so dd #3′s solution is to leave the window rolled down on the passenger side door because you cannot open it from the outside.  I reach in, open the door from the inside, haul my butt up into The Truck and have to slide across the full sized bench seat to get behind the wheel, which involves dodging the empty pop bottles on the seat and getting my legs over the 4 wheel drive shifter. So I get behind the wheel and drive off. I am not one who likes to draw attention to myself, so imagine my joy at having to drive to the feed mill, which is in the middle of town, in a jacked up pick up with a VERY loud muffler. There is just no way to sneak in there and get out again with no one noticing. I do get there, slide over to the passenger door, drop four feet  to the ground, have the very nice man load the half ton of feed into the back and try to graciously haul my butt back into the passenger side and slide back over behind the wheel. I’m sure I amused the guys at the feed mill and gave them something to talk about over beers tonight. Then I fire up The Truck and pull out onto Main St., where two teenage boys give me a very strange look as this grandma goes roaring down the road in the jacked up truck.   I can hardly wait to see what further adventures The Truck and I have.

When God speaks….I listen

I am one of those people to whom God has spoken. It wasn’t an audible voice, sometimes it wasn’t a voice at all. But it was definitely God. Each time it has been before someone close to me died or got very ill. The first time I remember was in 1991. We were expecting our 5th baby and we found out that the wife of a pastor at another church in town was due at the same time. One night we got a call to pray for this couple. They were running tests because the mom had not felt the baby move all day. While I was praying for her and their baby, all of a sudden I realized I was praying for our baby. God was telling me that our baby was also going to die in the womb and I was praying for God’s protection over her, tears streaming down my face. One month later I went in for a checkup and no heartbeat could be found. An ultrasound confirmed that our little girl had died at 16 weeks. This was in November of 1991. I became pregnant again almost right away and everything went normally. But I remember one night I was rocking in my chair, watching tv, when I heard God say clearly “this one too”. I felt the baby move just then, and started crying. I couldn’t explain to my husband what was wrong…I think he figured it was just hormones. But a few weeks later at another dr visit, there was no heartbeat and a week later our son was stillborn.
Another time a dear friend had liver cancer and we knew she was not going to make it. I had been planning to visit her the next day after church, but felt I should go that afternoon. I talked with her, told her I loved her and said goodbye. On my way home, God told me that I wouldn’t see her again until we met in heaven. Esther died the next day, 10 minutes before I arrived as I had planned to the day before.
I had a another friend who was very close…we were joined at the hip and shared a brain. When she found out she had breast cancer, another friend asked me what I thought. I told her, “I don’t think Mary Jane is going to make it.”  But she went through surgery, chemo and radiation and was doing great. About two years later they did a liver biopsy to check a mass on her liver. A few days after the biopsy it was evident there was something terribly wrong and an ambulance was called. As I drove to the hospital, a song came on the radio about wanting to see a friend just one more time. God told me that this was it, she was going to die soon. They found out she was bleeding from the liver because of the biopsy and six weeks later she went to be with the Lord. I love that the Lord used the song, because now everytime I hear it I think of my friend waiting for me in our side by side mansions. (She promised she’d save me one)
A month or so ago, I had been out of sorts all day. My husband and I were driving and I started crying. I just couldn’t stop. When he asked me what was wrong, all I could say was that something horrible was going to happen. I didn’t know who or where or when, but it was going to be bad. About 3 weeks later my sister-in-law, Brian’s sister, went to the dr with headaches and neck pain. She has brain cancer and has a tough fight ahead of her. The news just stunned the entire family….no one had seen it coming.
I know it seems like God only speaks to me before something awful happens and that maybe I should quit trying to listen for Him. But I think He was preparing me each time. I was still sad and grieved, but I knew that this was part of His plan for each of their lives. That helps. I also know that I will see and be with each one of them one day, as they were all either born again Christians or, as in the case of our babies, below the age of accountability. Somedays I get so anxious for that day.

My friend, duct tape

I have been a fan of duct tape for many years.  It is the all versatile, repair anything material you just have to have around.  We had a storm door for awhile that, literally, was held together with duct tape.  All the panels, the windows, all fastened together with duct tape.  When we put our air conditioner in every summer, duct tape fills in the gaps and makes it watertight.  DD #6 even made a wallet out of duct tape over 3 years ago and she’s still uses it.  It’s durable, it’s strong, it’s cheap and even comes in many colors.  Heck, duct tape may rate over men.  Certainly more useful at times anyway.  The roll of tape itself comes in handy.  Our full size van has no cup holders.  Put a roll of duct tape on the engine housing and you have an instant, no tip holder for your pop.  My hero is Red Greene, a Canadien comedian who could run the world with duct tape.  Ahhhh…life could be so simple if we could solve all of our problems with duct tape.

Things I learn late at night

Ok, it’s not that late, but I was curious about what people had to say about asthma patients (which dd #6 has) getting the swine flue vaccine. I know, I know…the correct way to refer to it is the H1N1 flu…I like swine flu. Sounds cooler. Anyway, I digress. Found some interesting information, still not sure if we will have her get the vaccination. So then, for fun, I searched how swine flu might affect someone with sleep apnea, which I have. Didn’t find much, but I did come across an article on natural ways to improve sleep apnea. It was a study done in 2006 that found that practicing a traditional, Australian wind instrument, called a didgeridoo is also effective and well tolerated in the management of sleep apnea! So now my question is 1)Just where do I find a didgeridoo in Wisconsin and (2) where would I locate an instructor who could teach me to play. I wonder if that would be more annoying or less than the “Darth Vader hiss” that my husband says the C-PAP reminds him of. So many questions in the quest for better health.