Home again

Doesn't he look wonderful?? Yes, I agree. :)
We are still not without bumps and hiccups, but our hope and prayer is that the end of this particular trial is near.

We arrived home (last) Sunday from Vanderbilt. I drove, and it was one of the scariest drives I've ever made. It seems everyone who'd been over the river and through the woods at Granny's house was going home at the last minute, so the interstate was a big NASCAR race, complete with spectacular crashes: we got stuck behind TWO major wrecks, one of which stopped traffic both ways on I-40, and required a rescue helicopter to land on the road. It ended up taking us almost five hours to make a (normally) 2 1/2-hour trip.

All things considered (yes, I'm using that phrase again. My blog ;) ), he's doing pretty well.

This week has been a bit bumpy--his headaches are still nagging and persistent, but not unmanageable. His sleep patterns are much changed due mostly to medication. His energy level is improving, however, and though he's not at top speed, life seems to be returning to some semblance of 'normal.' Hopefully in a month or so, when he's finally off all the medication, we can leave this chapter behind. Hopefully we will have left it better people.

Until then, we are thankful for every day. Christmas is more meaningful now, family moments are more precious, and the blessing of being home is more tangible. I pray that we recognize the beauty around us rather than pine for what is not. Life is a gift, just as it is, trials included.

I pray the blessings of God on all of you. Merry Christmas! :)

God plans ahead

Throughout this whole ordeal, we have had good days and bad days. A hill followed by a valley, good news followed by bad news, hopeful, positive moments followed by disappointment…and then more positive moments.

Today, dear friends stopped by and we were blessed unexpectedly by them. We sat on the hospital bed together after they left and wept at their generosity. Their kindness was a direct sign from God that His plan is secure, even though our plans fail. We are unsure of the future; He is not.

Later this evening, after Wes fell asleep, I noticed his scar seemed to be swollen a bit. Yes, it’s just me. No nurse or doctor has confirmed my observation, but let’s be real: if anyone knows to the detail what my husband’s head should look like, it is I. My gut tells me that in the morning, the doctors will take one look at him and say, “yep, you’re gonna need a shunt.” More surgery, more time in the hospital, more time away from the kids. This is a heart-wrenching thought.

I have felt repeatedly through this process that I’ve had enough, that I don’t want to face this anymore, that the end of this struggle must be near–I can’t handle it much longer.

But I will look at the pattern, and remember the grace of God.

The surgery to remove the tumor went without a hitch. It was a huge success, with both teams (ENT and Neurosurgery) extremely proud of their work and confident of the future. In the words of Dr Thompson, it was a ‘formidable’ tumor. Very large, and could have done great damage to the brain stem and facial nerve. But it didn’t.

God preserved his life. Beautifully, miraculously. This was an unspeakable relief. Two weeks of improvement and increasing strength followed. Then after improvement and relief came disappointment, which we suffered when meningitis set in.

Recovery, setback. Blessings, struggles. Plenty, poverty. Gladness, sorrow.

See the pattern?

The God who knows the end from the beginning prepares us for future trials by strengthening us today. Little do we know as spiritual children what great need we will have to fall on the Rock, to return to the altar we built the day the Holy Ghost baptized us. The unspeakable joy that washes over a new soul reborn is the same which will carry him through the difficulties of life, when everything stable will be threatened. It will be his strength.

God, the ever loving, everlasting Father who loves His children more than anyone, knows where our road will lead, so he packs in our little travel bag just what we need to get us to our Destination.

This Holy Ghost, this Spirit of Christ, the ‘foretaste of glory divine,’ is the meat to sustain us until we reach That Other Shore. Oh, that we would carry it with reverence, protecting it, cherishing it, nurturing it! It is our most valuable possession, and our only hope.

Jesus spoke to His disciples in John 14, telling them He would be leaving soon. He began the chapter with the promise “I go to prepare a place for you.” The value of such a promise is unknown until one is forced to cling to it in desperate fervor. He knew they would later be tested, and would need to remember His words. So He followed with another promise: “I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you…the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you. Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”

Who can appreciate peace but they who have been shaken by chaos and tumult? What is the value of comfort unless it be compared to one’s struggle, pain, and sorrow?

Soak in His presence today! Feast at His banquet table! Eat the Word. Accept His strength, surrendering all. I beg you, invest in the full armor of God. The day is coming when you will need it.

And above all, remember the Promise, that He “hath begotten us again unto a lively hope…To an inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven for you” (1 Peter 1:3,4).

Thanksgiving 2009

Hi. Last time we talked, Wes was in the hospital, recovering from meningitis.

Now, Wes is in the hospital, waiting for the spinal fluid leak to heal and the swelling to go down.

"Really? Three weeks later? A month-and-a-half past surgery??" you ask. Yes, and believe me: I am just as incredulous as you.

And now I shall share with you our timeline:

October 30. Wes has staples removed, develops meningitis, spends a week in the hospital with ridiculous pain and super-mega-antibiotics. My mom, who came to help us on October 13, gets ready to leave on the 5th. Dad drives down from Wisconsin to pick her up.

November 6. We go home with high hopes and a week's worth of IV meds to kill what's left of the bug in his brain. Swelling at the incision site seems to be improving.

November 11. Wes' good friend, Troy, is killed in a car accident. A groomsman in our wedding, he is a young husband and father, loved by all who know him. This tragedy adds to the difficulty and pain of recovery. A very hard day for Wes (not to mention for Troy's wife, Amy, and their son Tanner, who was in the car with his dad and suffered horrific injuries. We still pray for Amy and Tanner, for strength, peace, and complete healing in Jesus' name!).

November 14. We finish the antibiotics, Wes is feeling pretty good, life seems to be inching toward 'normal'.

November 15. Sunday. We go to church for the first time since the surgery--it's wonderful to be back, albeit with a swollen head, slower gait, and PICC line still in his arm.

We go home for the afternoon, he takes it slow, and we head to Troy's funeral. It is packed, and we see many good friends from far and near who have been praying for us. Such a sad occasion, but so good to see our friends. As we sit in the sanctuary waiting for the funeral to start, Wes feels a trickle down his neck (still wearing the bandage over his incision). We go outside to find out that it is in fact his incision leaking cerebrospinal fluid, which is not supposed to happen, and we head home immediately and call the doctor.

We are advised to keep it dry and clean and to see doc at 7:30 the following morning (no one would perform surgery on Sunday night, anyway, if we went to the ER). Wes is not in extreme pain, so we lay low for the rest of the evening. We are disappointed that we have to miss the funeral.

November 16. The doctor (Hauge, in Knoxville) determines we need to fix the leak. Wes has to forgo eating and drinking until 5pm, when surgery starts.

A long day of waiting is followed by a short operation (less than half an hour), and a neat little set of sutures now complements his previous incision. During the surgery, the excess fluid that had remained under the incision was released, and our hope was that it would not re-accumulate. A pressure bandage wrapped around his head is added to prevent this. We are excited to see a flat place where the skin had bulged out from the side of his head, and are hopeful that this may be the end of our brain surgery chapter. :)

No dice. By the time we arrive home, about two-and-a-half hours past surgery, the swelling has returned in full force.

This is a low point for us. It has now been a month since the tumor was removed, and by now, we had expected life to be a little easier. But recovery seems to drag on and on. It seems like we spent the entire day waiting for an unsuccessful outcome, and things are yet unresolved.

November 17-22. We take meticulous care of the incision, changing the dressing daily, hoping and praying that nothing else goes wrong. The swelling seems to go down a bit here and there (though review of pictures and video during that time now reveals that no change really occurred).

November 22. We go to church Sunday morning, Wes testifies with his head wrap, glad to be in the service. We are so thankful to be in the presence of God. There's no better therapy! Visiting evangelist, Jordan Stumbo, preaches "The Power of Perspective."

At the end of service, Wes notices his bandage feels wet. Uh oh. We go home, inspect the incision. Just a little drop appears at the bottom knot of the sutures. It seems to have stopped. We proceed with our day, he naps, I take the kids to the evening service. After church, we find a more significant leak that continues through the night.

November 23. Monday. A call to the (Vandy) doctor directs us to the ER, but since Wes isn't in serious pain, we decide to see the local neurosurgeon instead and thereafter head to Nashville as planned (have an appointment with our Vandy ENT surgeon early Tuesday morning). We find a lovely room on Priceline for a steal. Praise God. :)

November 24. Tuesday, at Vanderbilt. The leak is profuse, the doctors consult with one another and decide to admit Wes and install a drain to take pressure off his head and redirect it out of his body through a little tube in his back into a bag at his side. A nifty contraption controlled by gravity, the drain measures how much CSF is coming out over time. He now sports a higher-octane pressure bandage around his head to provide resistance to the CSF that wants to push out through the incision.

November 25. A boring day in the hospital. Drip, drip, drip goes the drain. Click, click goes the IV pump. The soft, muffled whirr of air circulation systems. And that is all.

November 26. Thanksgiving day! We had the company of dear friends for a few minutes this afternoon, and it was so therapeutic. It's a bittersweet irony to know NYC is taking place in the same city at the same time; it enables friends to come and see us, like our Knoxville friends, and the Ritcheys, who probably wouldn't be able to come to Nashville just to see Wes, but who were able to stop by...yet we'd much rather be in the services.

All things considered, things seem to be improving: it's apparent that under the bandage, the swelling has gone down at least some, if not all (Please, Lord, let it be gone for good!). Tomorrow, we find out if we need further surgery, which will involve a permanent internal drain for excess fluid to leave the brain and the body through the stomach. Hopefully not. Hopefully, we will see that his head is healing, that the fluid has successfully been diverted, and that no more surgery will be needed.

Praying this in Jesus' name. Thanks to all who are praying with us. Happy Thanksgiving!

Post-Surgery...Part II

Okay, so the last time I posted, we were a week post-surgery and doing great, all things considered.

I guess you could say the same now, though the "things considered" are a bit different.

Allow me to elaborate:

On Friday morning of last week, we went to get Wes' staples removed. He was doing well, and felt almost normal. ;) After an exam by the neurosurgery Nurse Practictioner, his mom, the nurse, had the pleasure of removing the staples from his incisions: the one behind his ear from surgery, and the one in his abdomen where fat was removed to plug the hole in his skull (neat, huh?).

When removed, the staples left neat little holes in a neat little row along the cut. As the staples came out, from a few of these holes ran a little stream of clear liquid which dripped down his neck. This was a bit startling, though not completely abnormal. The possibilities were either that the tissue was 'weeping' while healing, or that it was cerebrospinal fluid leaking from inside the skull. It was not a huge amount--a tablespoon, maybe, and then it stopped. The educated theory was that it was not CSF, and the precaution was given to call if a severe headache occurred. We left to walk a little around the mall, then go home.

While at the mall, the dull (normal) headache Wes had had earlier now increased steadily, though not unbearably.

What we did not know at this point was that bacteria had entered his brain from the outside world through the cerebrospinal fluid that had leaked. In twenty minutes, this bacteria doubles. In two hours, it increases sixty-four fold.

This is the kind of bacteria that can kill a person within hours.

After a few minutes at the mall, feeling a bit more tired and in a bit more pain, Wes took two Tylenol and we headed for home.

Within an hour of arriving home, his pain was more noticeable. He took a half pill of a stronger medication given by the doctor. This made no difference. As time progressed, his pain increased to a screaming '9 out of 10' (he reserves 10 for dismemberment and mortal wounds), and he couldn't stand light, couldn't move, couldn't talk.

I called our local neurosurgeon, who prescribed a migraine medicine. This did not work, and by 3:30, I was on the phone with Vanderbilt. They advised that this was definitely not normal, and that if his pain had not decreased in an hour, to go to the ER.

At 4:40, we were headed to the ER. There, they did a spinal tap (lumbar puncture) to start a culture on spinal fluid (to determine whether it was an infection or a CSF leak) and gave him morphine to manage the pain.
The morphine made no difference.

At this point, the doctors had told us it was either a CSF leak causing pressure and pain, or "infectious meningitis." I now know the latter term really means "bacterial meningitis," but doesn't sound as foreboding.

Meningitis is the irritation of the meninges, which are the membranes that cover the brain. This can be caused by surgery (chemical meningitis), a virus (viral meningitis), or bacteria (bacterial meningitis). The former two are temporary and need no treatment; the third can kill you quickly.

Wes was admitted to the CCU (Critical Care Unit), where they began administering antibiotics to prevent the progress of infection. His temperature wavered around 102 degrees. He was in tremendous pain, unable to bear noise above a whisper, and very lethargic. The skin behind his ear bulged out where the tissue had swollen.

For the next two days, his mom and I alternated our visits to see him during the strict hours of the CCU. We slept in the waiting room and prayed for some clear answers as to what had happened.

By the second day, his pain was somewhat under control and his fever had decreased a bit, so he was moved to his room on the fourth floor. He has remained there since, and has steadily--though slowly--improved.

His blood tests confirmed infection, though the spinal tap showed nothing conclusive as to the type of bacteria involved.

He continues on a strict regimen of two high-powered "broad spectrum" antobiotics, almost constantly administered by IV. Monday, he received a PICC line, a fancy contraption attached to his upper arm through which he gets his medicine (he now calls it his 'bionic arm'). This kind of high-powered central line can last a year. It is through this line that he will continue to receive antibiotics at home for another week or two. Through this same line, blood can be drawn also. Good news for Wes, who at this point feels somewhat like a human pincushion. :)

It is a slow ascent back to normalcy, but every day he gets a bit better. We are so thankful for God's hand of protection on us, for easing his pain, and for giving us great doctors, wonderful family, and a supportive church.

That's all for now...thanks for reading, thanks for caring, and for praying for us. What a story!

Post-Surgery thoughts

Whew. So now, a week post-surgery, I am behooved to address the cosmos (and more importantly, friends) regarding our recent and continuing trial (though Praise God, the worst is over!)...

• We survived the steamroller! :) To God be the glory.
  

What an experience, what a testimony, what a mighty God! He never leaves us, though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death.. I will tell you that though I knew we would come through this (by God's grace alone), I distinctly felt that 'shadow' on the day of surgery...knowing that God's ways are above ours, and that if His justice were satisfied, we'd long ago have been consumed.

He does not have to appeal to my reasoning and understanding to do what He sees fit. My own parents--both of them--lost their fathers at an early age. My mom was almost two when her dad died, and my dad was five. Knowing that the Lord has preserved them all this time, even without the presence of their precious fathers, I knew the Lord would keep me and my own children, no matter what. So with that knowledge, knowing that EVERYthing God does IS right, I faced the day.

This is not to disregard the peace I felt from the day we heard about the tumor. I knew Wes would make it through. But even if I was mistaken, I also knew God is faithful.

• Moms rock.

My parents arrived in Tennessee from Wisconsin (looonnnnng, 14-hour drive) on Monday night. From that moment on, my parents have been such a support throughout this experience. My mom has taken over the care of our older three while I tend to Wes and the Beebs (our little 5-month-old), and her help has been invaluable. She is truly the greatest Oma on the planet (I'm sure that statement could bring many other Dutch grandchildren to blows). She has taken over homeschooling, reading to them, bathing, feeding, and playing with them, and she even took them to pick pumpkins (one appropriately-sized pumpkin for each child--so cute!) yesterday. Thank you, Mom. You're the best. Many thanks to Dad, too, who had to turn around and drive back to WI on Saturday to care for his wonderful church (to you who read this and attend Lighthouse Pentecostal Church, you rock! Thank you all for adopting us).

Wes' mom has been no less supportive and helpful. She (as you may have read) is a nurse for a neurosurgeon here in Knoxville, and her knowledge and experience has been such a blessing. I can call her instead of bugging our doctor's office every time I have a question. She stayed the first night after surgery with Wes in ICU while I went to get some rest at the hotel with the baby. I'm SO thankful for this...we were all sleep-deprived by this point, and the sacrifice she made that night to ensure Wes wouldn't be alone was so appreciated (though she would tell you it was no sacrifice at all). She also brought me a certain container of cookies on the day of surgery--so thoughtful! I'm sure I'll be paying for that indulgence ;), but I appreciate her thoughtfulness so much.

Many other important words of thanks can be found here. Words are not enough.

• We now have one more reason to appreciate fall.
  

We were married in September and are mega-fans of turtlenecks, so we already have reason to count fall our favorite season. Add "evicted brain tumor" to that list, and even one's birthday becomes a distant second. ;)

So there's a few of my thoughts.. Thanks to all of you who continue to pray for us! He is the God who hears.

(Dear friends, please excuse the inevitable errors in my posts throughout the next few weeks...I am snatching a few moments here and there to write, and do not have quite the time I prefer to self-edit. Thanks for your forgiveness!)

Final pre-surgery thoughts..

•I love Wes.

•I'm not afraid.. But the unknown has me a little apprehensive. But that's okay.. Nothing is unknown to Jesus!

•I'm thankful that not only does He have the whole world in His hands, He's got little Wes, and little me, too. :)

•I hope I can keep from blowing an emotional gasket tomorrow (today)...not out of despair, but human weakness in a stressful moment.

•I'm SO thankful for all the people who have been praying and are fasting today for us. I cannot tell you what a comfort it is to know that we are not alone, and that it's not just my thin little quivering voice that's lifted to heaven, but a chorus of many, a mighty arm of the Body lifting my family up. Thank you.

the secret ingredient

A good name is better than precious ointment, And the day of death than the day of one's birth; Better to go to the house of mourning Than to go to the house of feasting, For that is the end of all men; And the living will take it to heart. Sorrow is better than laughter, For by a sad countenance the heart is made better. (Ecclesiastes 7:1-2)

Sorrow: the element that makes one's life sweeter.

Solomon writes here about life. Had he not known the pain of death, the sweetness of life would not appear to him.

Anyone who has eaten cookies baked without salt understands that without salt, sweet has no balance. Sweetness needs that that savory element to define the sweetness.

I speak not of sorrow left to mold and embitter the heart, but to deliver one in agony to the feet of Jesus, where that sorrow can be turned to joy, and the master carpenter can craft from splinters and dust a new building for His glory.

Why would God allow such difficulty to come in a young man's life? Because it is now, early, that He wants us to learn the beauty of sorrow, the glory in suffering, the joy that is set before us that renders the present suffering unworthy of shame.

There is purpose, always purpose, in suffering. And yes, it is good. Oh, that we would grasp that purpose and take it to heart! Thereby the heart is made better, and life is sweeter.

Things I learned today

• That it is indeed possible to duplicate (or closely imitate) Cracker Barrel pancakes. A word of caution, however: they are probably about a bazillion calories each....but uber tasty! :) (my tips: fry them in bacon grease and plenty o' butter for the salty/crispy edges, use real buttermilk, and let the batter rest for about 30 min.)
• That an impending life event can actually be a de-motivator...yeah, that means I didn't get much done today. Oh, well.
  
• That Winston Churchill wrote a lot. And well. His "Inside of the Cup" series (Vol 1-7) is strikingly good. So insightful. (I'm only on Vol 2, so don't quote me on 3-7 yet.)
  
• That there really is no place to find decent (little girls') tights for cheap. $10.50?? Really, Gap, you're being a little greedy. They're plain, black tights.
  

So now, haunted by a cluttered closet and piles of laundry, with an early morning before me, I bid you Adieu...or Guten Abend for those with Germanic preferences.

I leave you with a ponderable quote:

"Ending a sentence with a preposition is something up with which I will not put."
--Winston Churchill

Leaning, clinging, trusting

By the grace of God, I have been able, for the most part, aside from a few weak moments, to keep a stiff upper lip throughout this ordeal.

Yesterday, however, someone had the nerve to post a sappy love song on Facebook, and like a moron, I clicked on it. Within seconds, I was a puddle. (Click here if you must, but be warned.)

Somehow, love is sweeter where pain has made the heart raw. I count myself among the blessed few to feel an acute sense of mortality, yet to have the chance to cherish those I love while they are still here. So many have suffered loss without a moment to say goodbye. Those folks hold my deep regard, and my heart aches for them.

Jesus wept. Lazarus had died, and Mary and Martha were mourning the loss of their brother. Jesus came to Bethany, and they came to him (at different times) and said the same thing: “Lazarus wouldn’t be dead if you had only come earlier.” But Jesus’ reaction was different to each woman. With Martha, He gently reassured and corrected her, saying “I am the resurrection and the life.”

But when He saw Mary weeping, He wept, too.

This was the same Mary who, bearing the scorn of others, had anointed His feet ('in preparation for burial') with the costly ointment, and washed them with her tears, humbly drying them with her hair. This same Mary, forgiven much, had sat at His feet, listening to His words, while Martha was crossly running around and resenting Mary for not helping her.

He had no logical reason to truly be sad about Lazarus—He knew that in a few moments, he would live again. What struck His heart, I believe, is the sight of one of His beloved in pain. Though He knew Mary's sorrow wouldn’t last long, He still felt it just as deeply as she.

We have not a high priest who cannot be touched by the feeling of our infirmities. He is compassionate, understanding our feelings of helplessness and sorrow when we are powerless.

He cares for His own. He mourns with us, cries with us, though not in despair, because in Him we have hope. And on His everlasting arms we lean, more aware than ever of their strength.

The intense pain felt in difficult moments sharpens the color of life, bringing meaning into the most mundane details, teaching us to appreciate the small things that He has ordained. I am determined to see Him in everything, to catch the lingering scent of Him where His hands have expertly carved our path.

His strength is perfect when our strength is gone. There is no covering up ‘no strength.’ It is the lame man who was carried to Jesus by his friends. It is Lazarus, dead in the grave. It is the realization that you can do nothing to fix your situation.

And it is moments like these that teach us to collapse on the Rock, to cling to Him like a belt, and know that we shall not be moved.

But what if...

“You’re just pretending to be strong, when it could’ve been worse–and then what would you say? You’d probably fold if things were worse.”

I always find myself in peril the moment I try to argue hypothetically.

“What if you lived in the backwoods of Nepal and no doctor was around, and you had a second big toe growing on your right foot, and your elbows were inverted, and you had to cook with your back to the firepit, and you lost your balance on your new big toe, fell backwards into the fire and suffered third-degree burns…would you trust God THEN?”

Yes, it could be worse, yes it could be easier. But this is what it is. And this is how I shall react. Yes, it could have been cancer, but praise God it’s not. Yes, it could’ve been a simple sinus infection, but it’s not, and praise God anyway. We could treat it as nothing, but it isn’t. It’s serious. We could over-dramatize it, but we won’t.

The fact is, God is good, and He is our Comforter, and our peace. It is His perspective from which He would have us to see this. From His vantage point, this is not accidental, not without forethought, and not unto death, but for His glory and His purpose. He can handle the details just fine. Our job is to trust Him.

And that we do.

A hard-working family member

This is the one tool in the kitchen that is always clean, and is lovingly placed back in its special spot next to the pizza cutter, each and every time it is used. From Pampered Chef, it is the only ice cream scoop you will ever need.

You're welcome. ;)

When I met Him

“you know Me.”

It’s that familiar Voice pulsing through every meaningful spiritual experience, every burst of clarity from Scripture…the breath on my cheek when profound truth appears in my mind…the inexplicable sweetness in even the most painful experiences…the knowledge through the searing pain that He is Truth, He is love, He is faithful, and that all that He does is good.

The doubt that arises from the pit of hell that questions "do I really know Him?" is empty, with no basis in truth.

What is true—what I KNOW—is that 20 years ago,

standing on a cement floor at a humid Illinois campground,

on a Wednesday night in July,

I met Him.

Physically, spiritually, mentally, with more joy and inexplicable wonder than I could ever convey in words. What I had hoped, prayed, yearned, wept for finally happened that night.

Summoned by the preacher, who asked “If you don’t have the Holy Ghost, come up to the front," I walked to the altar wearing my gray drop-waist dress with the pink scarf, and lifted my hands. I remember an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach as I made my way past the rows of folding chairs…like my body knew something big was about to happen. Two pastors' wives prayed with me.

It wasn’t immediate, and in fact, I distinctly remember getting a bit discouraged after a few minutes…there was a bit of a power struggle, I think, because I wasn’t getting what I wanted when I wanted it.

Then, just as I gave up, something came over me, and excitement and a lightness..weightlessness.. all over my body, and my tongue started to move. It was more than the stammering lips I had experienced before. My mouth was forming strange words I couldn’t understand, and they just kept coming. I didn’t even want to stop and take a breath. As soon as it began, I knew what was happening, and remember smiling as big as I could as God's spirit flowed through me. I opened my eyes, and the two ladies were excited, praising God, smiling with me and shouting. I did not want it to stop. I felt--physically--like I could just jump and float away.

After a few minutes of pure joy and surrender, letting the presence of God wash over me in waves, I looked around in the crowd and saw my friend Allegia from my home church, who was also praying for the Holy Ghost. Trembling under the power of God, I staggered over to her, grabbed her arm, and started praying with my heart while my mouth still worshipped in another language. Within moments, she was filled with the Holy Ghost, too! It was awesome. Truly the best night of my life. I was eleven years old.

At Illinois Junior Camp, they had a tradition of writing the names of each kid who received the Holy Ghost on this big chalkboard on the platform. Each child got to go up to the platform and tell the preacher, then write his/her name on the board. I wrote my name up there, and was so overjoyed. The desire of my heart had finally been fulfilled.

My life has never been the same. God altered my course that night, and I love Him. More than anything, or anyone, anywhere. He is the lover of my soul, the very reason I live, the One whose face is reflected in the faces of my children, the source of companionship and intimacy and unequaled friendship and love that is embodied in my husband, the presence I feel when viewing creation, the calm answer to every uneasy question my mind brings up.

There simply is no other God. He has been the best friend, refuge, strong tower, comforter, teacher for the past 20 years (as of July 27), and it is His presence and the knowledge of Him that brings value to every experience I have in life.

Have you received the Holy Ghost since you believed?

Eighteen days

Tuesday morning, I was delivered a ton of bricks in the face by my daughter. So to speak.

She said joyfully, "Oma and Opa will be here three weeks from tomorrow!"

My parents (aka Oma & Opa) will be taking care of the kids while their daddy has a brain tumor removed. In eighteen days.

This sudden reminder brought my busy day to a halt, and I sat there dumbfounded with a knot in my stomach.

On October 14, the love of my life, the better half of this 'one flesh,' will go through an extensive procedure to remove a "very large" tumor at Vanderbilt. It presses on his brain stem, which the surgeons will take great care to preserve. Considered one of the longest brain surgeries, it will take all day (15-20 hours, according to the nurse). Following surgery, he will be in Intensive Care for 24 hours, after which he will remain in the hospital for several more days, possibly up to a week.

Statistics reveal that he will probably have some facial weakness on one side of his face, that he will have difficulty balancing (due to the fact that the nerve which helps control balance on his right side will be necessarily severed and removed during surgery) and may need therapy. Hopefully this will be temporary. He will be completely deaf in one ear, have a large scar, and it will take him about six weeks to function somewhat normally again.

I prefer to deal with things as they come: up front, getting it out of the way, moving on. But this time, it's not an option. I see the steamroller, and it's 100 feet away and gaining. I know (beyond miraculous intervention from God, which He is more than capable of) that the steamroller will indeed flatten me (I speak of my emotional duress, rather than my husband's physical pain, which will surely be incomparably worse. This is my own perspective).

I also have the extraordinary advantage that I know I will recover. But that does not remove the flattening.. It will be painful, recovery will be slow, but once we pass this hurdle, life will go on virtually intact.

My choices are at the moment to either watch the giant, looming threat bear down on me, or look around and enjoy the scenery around me as I wait.

On that note, the scenery is pretty spectacular. We have seen the hand of God moving on our behalf, we have felt His presence when fear threatens to overwhelm. We have found His grace to be sufficient even at moments like this--especially at moments like this.

and somehow, I must say, there's no place I'd rather be than here, less than 100 feet away from an advancing steamroller. This is where God is.

I have prayed many times that God make me into the person He wants me to be. This slow, painful wringing-out of my reserve seems unbearable sometimes, yet I know it is with express purpose. He must increase, and I must decrease. His plan is what matters, He's the Author of our story--and the finisher! In His mercy, He has let us in on the secret: that the end of the story is good, and we have much to look forward to!

So, trembling a bit, I observe the scenery, knowing the God who made it is faithful, and He doesn't make mistakes.

The God I know loves me too much to prevent what is good for me.

The Map and the Compass

I am repeatedly struck by the absolute necessity of balance in the Christian life:
that is, balance between the Word and the Spirit.

To clarify, it is my belief that one needs the Word of God--that is, the Bible itself--and the constant flow of the Holy Ghost to navigate this life.

I once heard it put so eloquently:

The Bible is the map, and the Holy Ghost is the compass.

With the map, you see where you need to go, and the general impediments and route that you must take to get there.
The compass identifies where you are in relationship to the map.
Without one, the other is useless.

"Marvel not that I say unto you, you must be born again!"
These words were spoken by Jesus to Nicodemus, a man well educated in the Scripture (to that point, namely the Law), yet not yet acquainted with the Holy Ghost baptism & New Birth. The extensive knowledge he had of the 'map' was not enough! He needed to be born again. He needed the Compass, the tool by which 'all things, yea, the deep things of God' are explored.

The Holy Ghost enables us to unearth the treasures of Scripture; It leads us into all truth!

The Word of God defines, divides, identifies absolutes in black-and-white, and the Holy Ghost shows you your position on the map.

Spiritual GPS! :)

the best investment

I can be rather selfish with my time. I tend to prefer not to commit to anything until I feel like it's either absolutely necessary, or just that great of an idea to spend that much time on.

The drawback in this quirk of mine is that sometimes, having been noncommittal about whether I plan to do 'x', I've made no other plans either, and end up spending time on nothing.

It's like the twenty in your pocket that gets whittled down into a dollar and you have no recollection of how it all got spent.

But if you had made plans for that twenty before leaving it in your pocket and proceeding with your day, it might have gone to something useful. It might have been invested in something worthy, which brought a return down the road.

Even greater, I'm convinced, is the value of time. If I decide not to commit to spending two hours studying, those two hours are likely to be splintered into fragments of random nothings...internet fluff, daydreaming, magazine thumbing. And now, I'm two hours poorer.

God, please help me to remember that today is fleeting...that you can't bless what I'm not doing, and that an investment of time into something/someone worthy is the most valuable one I can make.

You Are What You Eat

Your body can only handle so much unhealthy junk before it--er--rejects it. If it's in small enough doses, it processes it as best it can, though cancer and disease may well be down the road.

This is the danger of 'empty calories'* and overprocessed food that has seen much change since it left the grower (if it can even be traced back that far). There's so little nutritional value left in it that it does more harm than good.

*Ah, the myth of 'empty' calories... they're not really empty, are they? They are actually packed with toxins and chemicals and synthetic residue ready to cake our insides with filth.

(And am I the only one who looks at the small print and is a bit incredulous that what was supposed to be cheese is really "processed food product"?)

See the parallel? ("She's gonna turn this into something spiritual, isn't she?" Yup.)

Have we gorged ourselves for so long on the pre-packaged, hyper-emulsified, low-sodium version of the Original that we have completely lost our taste for the Real Thing?

And YES, He's REAL. (Whew! I could take that rabbit trail right now. But I digress..)

Hosea was an Old Testament prophet to the Northern Kingdom of Israel. In the 12th chapter, he writes,

Ephraim feedeth on wind, and followeth after the east wind: he daily increaseth lies and desolation; and they do make a covenant with the Assyrians, and oil is carried into Egypt.

He was speaking to the ten tribes of Israel, admonishing them for making alliances with Egypt, and espousing its idolatry. Note that while they were 'feeding on wind,' it wasn't simply air they were taking in--it was the spiritual poison of idolatry. In fact, the reference to the "east wind" here points to "the simoon, blowing from the desert east of Palestine, which not only does not benefit, but does injury. Israel follows not only things vain, but things pernicious." (JFB Bible Commentary)

An important point here, I think, is that often we view time spent on entertainment as time simply lost or wasted. More likely, not only have we wasted time; we have exposed our minds to the unfruitful works of darkness, that which does not edify God...we've been 'feeding on wind.'

What seems a harmless indulgence is rarely harmless, or without serious consequences. Truly hungry, we make a hasty choice and gorge ourselves, feeling full for a moment, but few minutes pass before we are hungry again. Synthetic* goes in, never satisfying, and the spiritual man starves.

This has not only to do with entertainment, but includes various theological arguments that carry little weight and take the Bible out of context.

*synthetic = teachings that vaguely resemble biblical truth, but upon closer inspection, are found to be full of error. These include 'heaven on earth' theology, prosperity doctrine, and the sloppy tolerance, greasy grace idea.

What am I saying? I am saying:

Beware of anything that adds its own spin to Biblical principles, distorting the Truth. Do not eat it. This is your bread, and it must at all costs be without artificial additives, and it must be the whole loaf. Eat that which is pure, and you will be pure. Eat that which is holy, leaving nothing out, and you will be holy.

Beware of the all-consuming addiction to entertainment that would steal every free moment and starve your soul.

God, please let me carefully consider what I'm feeding my spirit, and let me refuse the food of convenience that, not only empty of Your Truth, would also poison my soul. Rather, let me choose the 'sincere milk of the Word,' and the meat you prepare for me. Let your presence be my rest, and my entertainment above reproach.

Let me be vigilant, too, about what my children are eating. They depend on me completely for their sustenance.

Truth and originality

Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it.

C. S. Lewis (emphasis mine)

Homeschooling tips from Gospelmom

(borrowed from the new gospelmom.com.. check it out!)

Pray. A lot. God gave you those children, and He has a plan for them. He is using you to accomplish that plan! Trust that His hand is guiding you. Proverbs 16:9. You can do this!

Cover the basics. Bible, Math, Language Arts. That's it. Don't worry too much--at least at first--about all the electives. It's very easy to get overwhelmed about all you could teach your children. Just get the "Three R's" covered, and supplement with 'living books' to peak their interest in further subjects.

First things first. Always start with prayer, Bible reading, and Scripture memorization, no matter what. This has a huge impact on the rest of your day, and shows your children what matters most. We use the One Year Bible for Children and learn one verse per week (of my choosing).

Follow the rules (state laws). Every state has different laws that pertain to homeschooling: you may need only to select a church-related school, or you may have to jump through flaming hoops on roller skates (hopefully the former). Go to the HSLDA website to find out what your state requires.

Have a plan. Decide now how much of each subject you want to accomplish per week, and estimate how long it will take. Think about how this will fit into your day. A great book to help find a schedule that works is Managers of Their Homes by Steve and Teri Maxwell. I use this, and love it.

Study. To put it in perspective, people spend years studying how to teach one age group--even one class! You will be teaching your child every subject, and if you're like most homeschool families, multiple levels at the same time. Research what's out there and available to help you teach, and to inspire your kids to learn. You can do it!

Housework is schoolwork. Don't underestimate the power of a chore done right! Your children will learn the pleasure of consistency and neatness by doing laundry, math/measuring by helping you cook, physics by vacuuming and biology by disinfecting toilets...;)

You're in control. Too much too soon? Slow down. Are your kids bored to death? Speed up. It's your foot on the gas.

It's OK to quit. If you decide a certain curriculum isn't working for you, stop using it and find what works. This is why you homeschool!

Foot off the brake! There are lots of 'right' ways to teach a given concept, and there are innumerable online resources to tell you how. Decide which direction you're going, and hit the gas. Just do it!

Find a network. Google your city and "home school support group" and see what comes up. You may also consider an online support group or email loop, where you can ask questions and partake in discussions about everything homeschool-related. Yahoo groups are a good resource. I can't stress enough how much it helps me to bounce things off other homeschooling moms. We're all in this together!

Pat yourself on the back. You're doing a good work, and though it's not easy, it's worth it!

Kidisms

DD (dear daughter, age 5), at breakfast:
"Mommy, can I have second dessert?"

Me: "Do we really have second desserts?"

DD: "I'm just kidding. Can I have a donut?"
Teehee!

I asked the same DD the other day what the Ten Commandments were. Her response:

"Um, hear O Israel,
you shall not steal,
You shall not murder,
You shall not rip people apart... umm,...
You shall milk the cows, or the pigs, or whatever state you're in."

By this point, I was laughing too hard to hear the rest. :)

What I tell my kids about Healing

God is the Healer...

All have sinned and come short of the glory of God. (Rom.3:23)
The wages of sin is death. (Rom. 6:23)
It is appointed unto man once to die, and then the judgment. (Hebrews 9:27)

So from the moment we're born, we're on a road toward death. It's every person's lot. But still, when we're hurt or get sick, many times we recover. Why is this, when the sin in our bloodline has marked us for the grave?

Isaiah 53:5 "He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities. The chastisement of our peace was upon Him, and with His stripes we are healed."

This means that because Jesus paid our penalty, He miraculously heals people all the time from horrible pain and sickness. People have even been raised from the dead.

It also means that every time even a little cut heals, rather than following the slope of illness toward death, our body recovers just as miraculously, because of Jesus. When we come through a nasty cold or flu, His stripes have prevented our death. The effect of sin has been effectively rolled backward for a time.

Why does it matter that we get better, if we're all going to die anyway?
It is the mercy of God that delays the consequence of our sin in hopes that we will look to the One who endured the Cross on our behalf. (Hebrews 12:2)

Doctors have some knowledge and tools to treat sickness and pain, but God is the One who heals.

The fact that we are healed at all, from any diease or injury, is direct evidence to the God who heals. That our bodies, appointed to die, can recover, is a gleaming image of mercy...

The hand that could crush us at any moment rather covers and protects us, touching wounds and wiping away illness, just so that we can see Him and lift our eyes to Him.

You think this is an over-spiritualizing of the natural process of life and the progress of medicine? Let's not forget that the "heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament shows His handiwork." (Psalm 19:1)

Look around you...the elements are saturated with His presence, and His fingerprints are everywhere. All of creation obeys His command, operating in a constant rhythm of instinct that He placed in every particle. He is Truth, and the source of all knowledge. The fact that He shares some of that with doctors--those who diligently seek truth--is testament to His grace.

As we head to Vanderbilt next month, I am so thankful for His grace that has allowed us the advances in medicine to treat something like a brain tumor. In centuries past, this would be a horrible descent to an early death, and an unspeakable tragedy for all who love my husband (and there are many).

But God has made the miraculous possible: to remove this ugly thing and live a virtually normal life thereafter. Our hope is in God, the Healer, the author and finisher of our faith.

Please shoot me

if you ever catch me using these words/phrases:

"maneurisms"...that is, a mispronunciation of "mannerisms" confused with "aneurism." I've only heard this used once, and it was shocking and appalling. Painful, actually. How would you even define such a word?

"I don't care to..." Do you not mind, or do you not want to? I'm confused. (this is a southern thing, I think)

"irregardless." Sigh. I hope I don't need to explain this one.

"I could go on and on..." Well, why don't you? In specifics. No? You can't remember details? I thought so.

"I said all that just to say..." hmm..why didn't you just say the short version an hour ago?

"To make a long story short..." see above.

"Tremendous!" This is only acceptable when combined with a Plankton voice (from Spongebob).

"But anyway..." this is only irritating when used more than three times in one sentence.

"Like I said..." If what you're about to say is just like you said a minute ago, I probably don't need/want to hear it again.

There are lots more, I'm sure...these are just some that come to mind at the moment. Stay tuned for updates. ;)

the Certainty of Truth

I was reading this morning and the following passage hit me right between the eyes:

Incline your ear and hear the words of the wise, And apply your heart to my knowledge; for it is a pleasant thing if you keep them within you; Let them all be fixed upon your lips, so that your trust may be in the Lord; I have instructed you today, even you. Have I not written to you excellent things of counsels and knowledge,

that I may make you know the certainty of the words of truth, That you may answer words of truth to those who send to you? (Proverbs 22:17-21)

I love that we can be certain of what God has for us, that we can know the Truth!

"Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." (John 8:32)

Not only can we know the truth, but we can know the One from whom Truth issues, the source of Truth Himself:

"I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.." --Jesus (John 14:6)

"I know whom I have believed.." --Paul, Apostle of Jesus (2 Timothy 1:12)

And because "I know that I know that I know" :) Him and His Word, I can have an answer to those who ask what Truth is.

Lord, let my ear be inclined to Your wisdom, and my heart to Your knowledge, and let Your Word abide in me, 'fixed upon my lips.' Let me be diligent in seeking You, that I may be certain of Your Truth and that I may have an answer from You for any and all who ask.

Be blessed today. :)

The Tumor

Yes, that's a tumor. It has taken up temporary residence in my husband's brain, but will be evicted on October 14, Lord willing.

I have long felt that this experience should be recorded, and have left it up to my husband to do...however, I realize that maybe my point of view would be worth recording, too. So, here it is.

He has experienced hearing loss on his right side for a while...not exactly sure how long, but it's definitely been gradual. Over a year, maybe two. Early this year, February, I think, he went to our general practitioner and got it checked out. He was told it could be swelling due to sinus infection, some sort of fluid trapped, etc. Was prescribed steroids and an antihistamine (over $100 for medicines that didn't do a thing. eek).

When it became evident that the medicine wasn't making a difference, we requested a referral to an ENT (Ear, Nose, Throat specialist, or otolaryngologist), who ordered an MRI (from which we obtained the above image). We were told that it was probably an acoustic neuroma. Non-cancerous (Praise God!) and, though dangerous because of its location, not life-threatening if removed. It was now May 12th, and our daughter, Eliza, was due to arrive two days later.

I should mention here that God is good. So good that He, knowing that we'd have to face this, managed to give my husband's mom, a nurse, a job working for a neurosurgeon--that is, the kind of doctor that operates on and specializes in brain tumors. She has worked there for approximately 15 years. The Lord plans ahead.

Our amazing God also provided a job that offers benefits, just at the right time. He was hired by his present employer at just the right time for us to sign up for health insurance for my pregnancy with Eliza. We chose the plan that offered the best coverage for maternity, which incidentally offers great coverage for brain tumors. We had no idea at the time what a blessing this would be.

Back to May 12:
One look at the MRI and we knew it was a tumor (as you can see). An appointment was made with the neurosurgeon here in Knoxville, Dr. David Hauge (mother-in-law's boss). This man took extra time studying the images, discerned that radiation was not a good idea due to its size and placement (considered 'very large' at 3cm in diameter, and pressing against the brain stem), and he recommend a team from Vanderbilt in Nashville to do the surgery. Dr. Hauge stated that if it were he with the tumor, he would go to this team: Dr. Reid Thompson and Dr. Haynes. He also personally called Dr Thompson's office to discuss our case and refer us.

Eliza was born perfect on May 14, and she helped to take our minds off the tumor for a bit. :)

In the beginning of June, we went to Nashville for our consultation with Drs Thompson and Haynes, who were extremely kind and answered every question that came to mind. It was not a typical 'appointment' day for Dr Haynes, who came to talk to us in between surgeries. We were very much relieved to have their seasoned counsel regarding our situation. They were both very surprised to hear how little Wes' symptoms had affected his daily life. With a tumor this size, apparently, a patient is usually much older and is experiencing much stronger symptoms, like facial weakness (where the nerve on the affected side of the brain is stressed, causing drooping on that side of the face), balance problems, swallowing problems, etc.

I must here again give all credit to God, who directs our path, whose mercy is everlasting, whose truth endures forever, and whose faithfulness is great. It is because of His mercy that we are not in a much worse situation. It is His lovingkindness that has prevented any further problems to this point. We trust Him.

We accept this experience knowing that God is in control. Regardless of what happens. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever, and His plan is perfect. He does not love us any less today because we have this tumor to deal with. His Word is true, and we stand on it.

I will admit that my stomach does somersaults at the thought of the day in October when this surgery is scheduled. My heart aches for him that his hearing on the right side will be completely gone (at least until we are able to get a BAHA, which should be an option later on). I don't want to see him in pain, or helpless, even temporarily. I feel like I'm poorly prepared for all this, and it's advancing like a freight train.

But I have full confidence that as He sees fit, and in His perfect way, God will bring us through this.
So, there's a little of my perspective... thanks for reading. :)

Nobody's a Pro

I've often observed seasoned professionals doing their job and thought, Wow, they are really good at what they do...they must not even have to think about it. All the challenges they face on a daily basis must be 'old hat.'

I don't know that I believe that anymore.

Rather, the following observations might be more accurate:

• No one has ever lived today before. Right, no surprise there.
  
• Everyone at some point of every day has reason to stop and say, this is new. I'm not prepared for this (though some of us roll with the punches a bit better than others).
  
• No one has enough experience to say unequivocally that today will be just like any other day, that all the issues it brings with it are predictable and mundane, and I will go to bed tonight not having experienced anything different from yesterday or any day previous.

The future is locked tight, and we are banned from even a peek in the window. While we can plan and predict some things, the fact remains that every (sane) human on the planet wakes up every day and must admit this: many things could happen today for which I am not prepared, and over which I have no control.

I find solace in this fact. It means, to me, that we are fundamentally equal. That I don't have to be intimidated by the experience of others much further down the road than I; we are all limited in scope and control, and that by necessity we depend on God (whether we believe Him or not) to direct our path.

"A man's heart deviseth his way, but the Lord directeth his path." (Prov. 16:9)

And now a sidenote:
is it this realization that propels so many wanna-be writers to delve into the worlds of make-believe when writing a novel? I recently discovered that a large number (majority, in this particular poll) are writing fantasy, science-fiction, and paranormal stuff. What sells nowadays, evidently, is the novel that allows the reader to be superhuman, or something other, with an ability to control more than in reality...or at least to escape today's reality.

I suppose that is the point in fictional writing: you are reading it to escape from the decidedly non-fictional life you lead.

Moral of these ramblings: it's okay to feel inadequate, as long as I keep moving forward.

The Voice of God

"...the sheep follow him: for they know his voice." (John 10:4)

In times of uncertainty, I have often wondered whether I was truly hearing the voice of God, or just my own wants and desires pushing me toward something. When standing at a fork in the road, it's easy to get confused and question every step.

It is at times like these when I remember the above verse, and I ask myself, "oh, my goodness--do I really know the voice of God?" and panic sets in. Tonight, during worship service, the Lord gave me clarity. The truth is: His WORD is His VOICE.

"The words that I speak unto you, they are spirit, and they are life." (John 6:63)

What has been recorded in those pages is the Living Word, the Voice of Jesus, with instruction and guidance for every day.

"The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib: but Israel doth not know, my people doth not consider." (Isaiah 1:3)
Even 'dumb animals' know where to find their sustenance! A sheep knows where to find protection...he's been with the shepherd many times before, and he knows to always run to the same place, the same source, the same gentle voice.

I don't know much, but I know where to run for my refuge, because Psalm 46:1 says "God is our refuge and strength; a very present help in trouble." I've run to that beautiful, living scripture many times before.

If I need comfort, I can go to the Comforter who "shall...bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you,"and soon follow a flood of words like "I will never leave you, nor forsake you," and "In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world."

The Living Word! Yes, I know that Voice!

It is the same first voice that called me into existence from nothing, that whispered to me through every Bible story in Sunday School, that shouted to me in fiery messages across the pulpit, that planted itself deep in my soul when I memorized Scriptures. It is the one that urges me to "pray without ceasing", "Love the Lord thy God with all thy heart...soul...mind...strength," "love thy neighbor as thyself," and reminds me that "greater is he that is in you than he that is in the world."

No more doubting where the ethereal thundering voice from heaven is. I know that Voice! He has written that Law upon my heart, and placed in that wonderful Book specific counsel for me, just waiting in the pages to be discovered (or brought back to remembrance) in a time of need.

Iceberging..an intriguing concept

I read here about the concept of iceberging, eloquently spoken of by Ernest Hemingway. I remember sensing this when reading his Old Man and the Sea, but didn't know the name for it.

Whaddya know, here it is.

Roast Chicken

by Brooke C

1 whole chicken
salt
pepper
olive oil
various tuberiffic veggies, randomly cut into assorted sizes to ensure unequal doneness

Directions:

• find roasting pan at the bottom of cabinet under kitchen sink. Wash out dust.
• Preheat oven to 450. No, not a reasonable 350 or 325. We want black skin and pink juice.
• Place veggies (ooh, parsnips!) in bottom of pan, toss in EVOO and 'herbes du Provence,' just to say you did.
• Salt and pepper liberally. This is the only case in which you may be liberal. ;)
• Pause to yell at 7-year-old to get out of the bathroom: "the bathroom is not for reading comic books!"
• Gingerly cut away at germ-ridden chicken-in-bag, pinkies out.
• Wash hands every five seconds.
• Dump a tablespoon of salt into cavity; cringe and shrug.
• Massage outer bird with salt, pepper, EVOO. Place lovingly on rack in pan, whispering sweet nothings. Place in oven.
  
• Swat 2-yr-old for throwing a giant fit. "You don't get a snack until you CALM DOWN."
• 40 minutes, a load of laundry, and an emptied fridge later: admire the beauty of the browning bird, take temperature (180! great!), then cut into it to find it's still pink.
• Proceed to remove bird every ten minutes for another hour and marvel at the Chicken That Never Cooked.
• Eat wooden shards of overdone meat dipped in pink juice of still-raw meat. delish.
• Scrape incinerated ex-veggies off bottom of pan.
• Give up and go to bed.
  

Today's quote

"He who does not punish evil commands it to be done." --Leonardo da Vinci

(quoted by Dr. James Dobson in The Strong-Willed Child)

It's ALIVE!!...we hope.

Interesting...I learned today on a literary agent's blog the importance of keeping one's writing "tight." The idea is that one should avoid excessive and unnecessary modifiers or dead weight that slows down one's story. A list of ways to do this (and words to avoid) followed.

Let me stop here and say that I never realized there were so many 'rules' to good writing. In the past, I simply read and decided whether or not it was worthwhile to continue.

I suppose one could see a parallel between a written piece and the human body. A good story might be likened to a healthy body, which gets no particular attention except when it is ill.

Whereas a normal person might consider a story 'good' and not question why, a writer (one who studies the craft of writing, anyway) discovers that a good piece is composed of a number of systems working together and operating well as a whole. The difficulty, then, is that rather than the existence of one Creator, there are thousands of would-be writers (yours truly included) who may never get their 'body' breathing. :)

One more testimony to the greatness--the unattainable genius--of God. He gets it right every time.

I'm learning that a good story really means that the reader doesn't feel as if he/she is reading at all, just experiencing what is written without noticeable effort to plow through thousands of words. This takes talent. In my view, skill alone (that which is taught and learned) is not sufficient.

Let's hope I've got the stuff it takes. :)

Breakfasting with VIPs

Today, I had the honor of sharing breakfast with two very important business people. One, a woman of twenty-six who works in sucker acquisitions (more on that in a moment), and the other, a thirty-year-old male creator of websites with a focus on fictional galactic characters.

The scene went something like this:

The attractive blonde sits with a furrowed brow, staring at her computer, alternating bites of applecrunch muffin with vigorous typing spells.

"So, what kind of work do you do?" I ask.

"Well, I go and get money from people, and then I take it to my boss, and he takes it the bank, and the bank makes suckers, and they give him the suckers, and he brings them back for everybody."

"So, you're in sucker acquisitions." I reply.
"Yes," she says hestitantly, with a modest half-grin.

"Do they make the suckers at the bank?"
"Yes."
"And how long have you done this job?" I ask.
"For forty-nine years."

"Wow! You're seventy-four? You look awfully young for seventy-four."
"No, I'm not that old!"
"Well, most people don't get such a good job like that until they're about twenty-five, after they've gone to college."
"Well....I've only worked there for a year."

Oh, ok. I understand now. "So you're twenty-six."
"Yes." She focuses hard on the small screen of the blue-and-red laptop, which is repeatedly requesting loudly that she type the letter that begins the word "cat." She responds to the metallic voice, attacking the keyboard with vehement zeal.

I leave her to her pressing task and address my other guest.
"And how old are you, sir?"
He suppresses an amused grin and responds,
"Thirty."

"And what do you do for a living?"
"I create websites about Star Wars. My website is Anakin Skywalker dot com."
"I see."

"This is my computer," he says, pointing to a small felt change purse the size of a deck of cards.
I am impressed.
"Wow, that's a small computer."
"Yes. Here's my website, see?" he says, deftly typing on the miniscule keyboard.

"So people pay you to build websites about Star Wars?" I ask.
"Yes. Actually, the reason it's called 'Anakin Skywalker dot com' is because I'm him. My name is Anakin Skywalker."
"Well, that's very interesting. It's nice to talk with you, Mr. Skywalker."
He smiles and returns to his muffin and milk.

My colleague, the fourth member in our distinguished party, has been silent throughout the meal, except for a few unintelligible bursts. Now he is studying the cranberries in his muffin, chewing with his mouth open, still grasping with one hand the spoon that had been in his cereal.
I decide this would not be the appropriate moment to ask him about his work.

All in all, a very interesting meal. :)

Honey, I’m Hooooome!

Okay, so I hope neither of my faithful readers take this the wrong way:
I am the exclusive type.

That is, I prefer to read stuff that’s interesting and actually readable: mostly correct in punctuation and grammar. A typo here and there is excusable, I suppose, but what really turns my crank is the correct spelling of “definitely!” Wow, what skillful writing!

Recently I’ve begun wading into the writers/literary agents/publishing blogosphere (yes, silly spellcheck, that IS a word—and don’t you spellcheck me on ‘spellcheck,’ you ironical beast), and for the most part, it’s been refreshingly…correct. I don’t find any gag-inducing misusage of “there/their/they’re,” and the paragraphs are bite-sized and filled with engaging quips and interesting info.

Not only that, but—miracle of miracles—even those writing comments on the blogs (or most of them, anywho) are actually writing in complete sentences! Can it be true? Have I come home? After so many years of wandering through the wilderness of poorly written news stories and illegible forum posts, I may have found my comfy spot.

Hopefully I won’t settle in so much that I develop bedsores.

Yes, I’m aware that by posting this I’m setting myself up for critique. I know this blog is largely a simple monologue in which few readers would have any interest, and I’m so green at this writing bit that I am sure to make a fool of myself often.

But I figure at the very least, I’m increasing my dexterity and typing speed.

To both of you, thanks for sticking around. ☺

By the way, if you do wish to comment, please spellcheck and run it by your copyeditor before soiling my blog with literary refuse.

...just kidding. I’m just glad your you’re here.

Thought for Today

God can't bless what you aren't doing.

She can be taught..

Some things I am learning lately:

• Writers are Readers, first and foremost. I could read all day about writing and never write a thing.
• If pictures are indicators (which, um, they usually are), many writers appear to be sadly out of shape, which is great news for me! People could just take one look at me and think, "Wow, what a slob! She must be a very successful writer."
  
• Even fiction is composed mostly of truth...you have to start with something you know and launch into the unknown..otherwise, it's not believable. Duh.
  
• Pita and cheese with basil and tomato is a lovely lunch. And somewhat healthy.
• This one is a bit alarming to me: today's teen/tween readers are into some gruesome stuff. Vampires, flesh-eating worms, witches, warlocks. This is what's 'cool' to read nowadays. That makes me queasy. Whatever happened to Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys? And is this stuff worth competing with? YES. For heaven's sake, literally. Though I'm not sure that it's my genre, somebody somewhere, I hope, is writing worthwhile stuff for these kids--stuff they actually want to read.

*yawn*...going to bed now. More to learn tomorrow.

There's no gold in them thar hills

So, we went for a little family outing Saturday...diggin' for gold, so to speak, at a used bookstore. It was packed, and the aisle with titles like How to Write and Not Sound Like a Moron and You Can Make Up Stuff that Other People Want to Read and Pay For!!! was crowded with other hopeful miners.

When I finally managed to maneuver my double stroller (yes, double) to the desired spot, I discovered a sadly lacking variety of titles. Only stuff like Maybe You're Not the Worst Writer and Buy This Book so This Author's Children Can Eat was left. Also unnerving was the fact that none of these books really looked like they'd been used much. What seemed more likely was that they'd been bought by some hopeful loser who read two pages and gave up, then traded it for a DVD of All Dogs go to Heaven. That person is still on his couch, now watching reruns of "Home Improvement."

The only shelf I didn't scan was the bottom one; however, bending down to look would have been impossible: I was hemmed in on every side by oblivious fellow pseudo-intellectuals ("they're called 'readers,' Dad"); the aisle was so narrow, and I'm ...not. So while there may have been priceless titles awaiting my perusal on the bottom shelf, they escaped unnoticed.

It was upon my removal from that aisle that I developed my plan: rather than actually writing something worthwhile, and going through all the rigamarole of studying books on how to write, and going to conferences, and getting an agent and all that, I'm just going to self-publish some stuff about a dwarf who has to return some jewelry to a volcano, and cram it down defenseless children's throats. And I'm going to draw the cover art myself, to save money. And it's going to be a trilogy, so I'll make three times as much money on it.

Success and fame, here I come!!

This just in...New Post found on ancient blog..

So, I haven't really taken the liberty to post to ye olde blog in almost three years. This you know, because you can look at the dates on the posts below and determine that yourself.

"so, this is worth reading so far," you yawn..

Hey, humor me and stick around. It's bound to get interesting...you may in fact learn the secret to the cantaloupe loaf that to this point has eluded you.

But first, let's catch up.
Since November 11, 2006,

• the economy has gone decidedly south. Since I live in the south, I should be in the right place..;)
  
• I've moved. Slightly...20 minutes from the last house, but a bit bigger, with a yard this time, for my growing brood.
  
• on that note, we added two to our chicken coop. Joel joined us in March of 2007, and Eliza was born in May of 2009. We now are officially a family of 6 who have no choice but a minivan. (that's ok with me...I don't do well with too many choices. Now I know the Lamborghini is out.)
  
• DH (Wes) discovered he has a brain tumor: to be removed, Lord willing, Oct 14 of this year.
  
• I switched to Mac. YIPPEEEEEEEE is all I have to say about that.
• I've discovered I'm a writer. Not necessarily a good one, mind you, but a writer nonetheless (I feel kinda like Bill Murray in "What About Bob" when he claims to be a sailor). And it feels good to admit it. Now just to funnel those random impulses to write into something worthwhile and marketable... A Children's Picture Book! About a rabbit who learns a life lesson and a hug at the end! Yeah, that's fresh and unpredictable! And who needs proper grammar for a kids' book! They don't know how to spell or punctuate anyway!

...sigh, I'm discovering it's a bit more complicated than that. And this writing industry takes a bit (or a lot) of effort to break into. Stands to reason: I don't want any old publisher with ugly pictures producing my book amongst a flood of others destined for the clearance table. Like Hot Pockets--straight to the toilet (thanks, Jim). So, as I figure out how to navigate this lovely field, I shall blog.

Hello, and welcome. again.