This has been a rough fall and winter for our family, illness-wise. Has anyone else been experiencing this?
After Thanksgiving week (with those two ER trips - one for Baby Butterbean and one for Banana), Banana ended up sick again last week. He went to the dr. on Monday and was diagnosed with tracheo bronchitis. After three oral medications and nebulizer treatments, he is doing much better. He had his follow-up with the dr. yesterday, and Dr. G declared Banana wonderfully healthy.
Baby Butterbean, on the other hand . . .
Sunday night, I noticed that awful, wet-sounding cough coming from Baby Butterbean, and I thought, not again! My poor baby has had upper respiratory junk pretty much since he was about six weeks old. Retractions in breathing, wheezing, fever, snot, everything. So I called the dr. before Banana's appointment yesterday and told them to add Baby Butterbean to the roster. He was running a slight temp and you could tell, he just felt rotten.
Dr. G was quite concerned about Baby Butterbean's condition, and upon examination, diagnosed him with "clinical pneumonia." I just about came unglued. The doctor said clinical pneumonia is when the child is diagnosed in the clinic with no chest x-ray. He did a CDC and determined that it was viral, so he didn't insist on a chest x-ray yesterday. But we go back to the dr. tomorrow and he'll reassess BB to see if one will be necessary. In the meantime, the same regimen: three kinds of oral meds and the nebulizer. So far today, no fever, but lots of coughing.
I was just about at my wits' end yesterday and asked Dr. G how much longer this could go on. Why was BB always getting sick? Part of it has to do with his being a tad early, certainly, but isn't there something that could be done? Dr. G mentioned a drug called Synagis and went to check BB's chart to see if he was a candidate. Synagis is a vaccine given once a month to babies, usually babies who were much more premature than BB, to prevent RSV. Dr. G was back in the exam room in short order with his mother (who runs the office) to have her explain to me about what to tell the insurance company in order to get BB's monthly vaccines. Dr. G said that BB was most definitely a candidate, having five upper respiratory episodes within six months (and he's only six months old). But apparently Synagis is very expensive and insurance is usually pretty stingy about paying for it. So please pray for us as we begin this process. Dr. G wants BB to have his first shot on Jan. 1. And please pray for BB's health in general until we can get the Synagis going.
The girls have had these dry, hacking coughs. It is more annoying to them than anything. Noodle's is pretty much all gone, but Chicken Nugget still asks for cough medicine and cough drops every day. So far, no fever for them. A few sniffles, though. But these seem to come and go with each rise and drop in the temperature. And we've been having LOTS of rises and drops in the temperature lately. Silly Texas weather.
Buffalo Wings also has had his bout with illness. He kept coughing and coughing and coughing. I kept trailing him around the house so that I could catch his lung when it fell out. It was a really bad cough, ya'll. He'll make sure the kids get to the doctor five times a week, but as for taking himself . . . nope. He won't. Finally, I insisted. I said, "You're sick. You have an infection." He said, "I'm fine. It's just allergies . . . *COUGH* *COUGH* *COUGH*" (I go over to catch his lung). And then he said . . . "OK *COUGH* I'll *COUGH* go *COUGH*" He called me from the doctor. He said, "You're right and I'm wrong. *COUGH* I have *COUGH* bronchitis and *COUGH* sinusitis *COUGH*" He's much better after a round of antibiotics.
I have had a little sore throat. That was about a week and a half ago. Now I just have a tickle in my throat. I've been, by far, the healthiest member of the family this season.
I'm praying that all of you have been wonderfully healthy and happy!
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
In Christ Alone
So Thursday night I got to attend a Beth Moore event. It was really good. CeCe Winans was there. So was worship leader Travis Cottrell. I was unfamiliar with Travis Cottrell, but he was wonderful. He had such a big, powerful voice, and I felt ushered into the Throne Room of God as Travis lead us all in a time of praising God. The event was a time of great encouragement as Beth shared words from the Word, and I heard things that God really wanted to say to me. I always enjoy Beth Moore's teaching, but I have to say that Thursday night, most meaningful was the worship time.
Most powerful was this song, which I love so much anyway. When we all sang, "Then bursting forth in glorious day, up from the grave He rose again! And as He stands in victory, sin's curse has lost its grip on me! For I am His, and He is mine, bought with the precious blood of Christ!" I think I wasn't the only one who felt chills.
And then came my favorite part, "No guilt in life, no fear in death, this is the power of Christ in me! From life's first cry to final breath, Jesus commands my destiny. No power of hell, no scheme of man can ever pluck me from His hand! Till He returns, or calls me home, here in the power of Christ I'll stand!"
I marvel at the power of Christ, truly. That He has gotten me through and to so many things in life. That He gives and gives and loves and loves me, who has disappointed time and again, who has disobeyed and shamed the Lord. How could I not want to serve Him? Only by the power of Christ have so many things happened, and I see evidence of Him in all parts of my life. So let that song also be my testimony. God is good. God is so, so good.
I've heard of the crowns and rewards that we will get in Heaven. The best explanation I've heard in regard to our Heavenly rewards came from a great man that I know. He is a friend of ours from church. He was teaching at church one night and he said, "You know, I think that we are going to want more rewards in Heaven so that we'll have that much more to lay at the feet of Jesus."
That picture has stayed with me. Laying any reward that we get at the feet of Jesus in Heaven. I have these two goals for my life, or afterlife as it may be: I want to hear Jesus say to me, "Well done, thy good and faithful servant." And I want to be able to lay piles at His feet on the day that I meet Him.
Most powerful was this song, which I love so much anyway. When we all sang, "Then bursting forth in glorious day, up from the grave He rose again! And as He stands in victory, sin's curse has lost its grip on me! For I am His, and He is mine, bought with the precious blood of Christ!" I think I wasn't the only one who felt chills.
And then came my favorite part, "No guilt in life, no fear in death, this is the power of Christ in me! From life's first cry to final breath, Jesus commands my destiny. No power of hell, no scheme of man can ever pluck me from His hand! Till He returns, or calls me home, here in the power of Christ I'll stand!"
I marvel at the power of Christ, truly. That He has gotten me through and to so many things in life. That He gives and gives and loves and loves me, who has disappointed time and again, who has disobeyed and shamed the Lord. How could I not want to serve Him? Only by the power of Christ have so many things happened, and I see evidence of Him in all parts of my life. So let that song also be my testimony. God is good. God is so, so good.
I've heard of the crowns and rewards that we will get in Heaven. The best explanation I've heard in regard to our Heavenly rewards came from a great man that I know. He is a friend of ours from church. He was teaching at church one night and he said, "You know, I think that we are going to want more rewards in Heaven so that we'll have that much more to lay at the feet of Jesus."
That picture has stayed with me. Laying any reward that we get at the feet of Jesus in Heaven. I have these two goals for my life, or afterlife as it may be: I want to hear Jesus say to me, "Well done, thy good and faithful servant." And I want to be able to lay piles at His feet on the day that I meet Him.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
So . . . it really CAN snow in Texas!
Last night, while we were at church, it started snowing. My friend ran into the choir room after practice to tell us all. I went to get the girls from their children's activities, and saw that all the kids had been outside and gathered up cups of snow. You'll see the girls displaying theirs, above. They insisted on keeping the snow in the freezer last night.
We have a late start to school today, so I wanted to go outside and capture the phenomenon. Have you ever seen a tropical plant covered in snow?
Standing in some Coastal Texas snow.
Banana has never, ever seen snow before. He wasn't sure what to think about it. He said, "Mamma, I made my foot! Look!" And you can see him pointing at his footprint, below.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Sorry, But She's On A Roll . . .
We all got home today after freezing our Texas tails off, and I said we needed some hot chocolate so that we could warm our bones. Banana declined the offer for hot chocolate, and he walked away.
Noodle was concerned! She said, "If Banana doesn't drink any hot chocolate, then he'll never get his bones warm!"Cold
I never really understood what cold was until I lived in Iowa.
In Arkansas, 30 degrees was cold. 28 degrees was really cold. If the temperature ranged in the teens, you'd better hope your pantry was stocked, because you weren't leaving the house.
In San Francisco, it stayed chilly for a lot of the year. In fact, most apartments there did not have air conditioners, only central heating. There was hardly any use for an AC. I froze in SF. I dreaded watching that legendary, that beautiful fog roll over the mountains. I knew what seeing that fog meant. Chilliness.
And then I went from chilly to downright cold. Real cold. The honest-to-goodness, real-deal kind of cold. The kind of cold that made me long for temps in the teens.
I moved to Iowa in January of 2003. My brother drove Chicken Nugget and me from SF to Winterset. When we drove through Tahoe and the Sierra Nevadas, I marvelled that so much snow could exist in one place. When we drove through the Wasach Mountains in Utah, Matt pulled over so that we could take pictures knee-deep in snow. If only I'd known . . .
Not only did so much snow exist in one place, it continued to exist. For months. It was cold, ya'll. I spent that first winter learning that hats and gloves are a must, that my child needed a snowsuit and moon boots, and that when you get a note on your car telling you to move it from the curb, you'd better do so. Else you'd find that the snowplow had just buried your car in about five feet of snow.
It made me a nervous wreck to think of driving in that stuff. It was insane. I learned the art of it, of creeping and of turning your wheel in the opposite direction when the car began to slide. WHEN the car began to slide. Never IF it did.
Oh, and as for running - yeah. I used to run in SF. Because, although chilly there, you could run year-round. You could always be outside. The stores sold specialty clothing for running in the rain, and even when it was chilly, mostly it was pleasantly chilly. Perfect for getting out there and getting your blood pumping.
Not in Iowa in January.
I told Buffalo Wings I'd go running. He said I'd fall down. I insisted he was just silly. I had good shoes. He said, "Yeah . . . you're going to fall down."
I ran about half a block. My rear was wet and sore. I had fallen down.
That first winter, CN and I lived in a cute little studio apartment in Winterset. Chicken Nugget saw the snow on the porch, and wanted to take the snow inside and keep it. I tried to explain . . . in the end, I put some in a baggie and let her keep it in the freezer. Until she realized that the snow would keep coming back. For a long time.
Oh, and when it snows, it doesn't matter. School still goes on. The doctor's offices stay open. It's almost as if nothing had happened, even with snow drifts 5 feet or higher along the road. Crazy stuff.
Then we moved to Albert City, which is a town in Iowa that's about three hours South of Minneapolis. Ya'll, it was way cold. I used to walk CN to her preschool, which was about half a block from our house. One morning, we went out, CN all snow-suit-and-moon-boot-clad, me with my trusty hat, gloves, and scarf . . . and it was 30 below zero. No, I'm not joking. It was.
A few days later, CN and I left to walk to preschool, and it was warm! The sun was shining! It wasn't snowing! I even left my coat behind! Buffalo Wings came home that afternoon, and I exclaimed about the warmth of the day! It must have been about 50 degrees outside, I said. He looked at me like I'd lost my mind.
"Honey," he said, "It was 25 degrees outside."
At last, his wife had gained perspective on the cold.
However, if you think about it, going from 30 below to 25 that quickly really is something like a heatwave.
It snowed that Mother's Day of my second year in Iowa. I was like, "No. It's not snowing on Mother's Day. It's May."
But yeah, it totally did.
Our first year down here in Texas, we had a bit of a cold snap early in the fall. I don't know, like 45 degrees or something overnight. I took CN to school and felt like a bad mom. CN was the only one who was just in a jacket and not in a parka with gloves, hat, and scarf.
I write this post today because it is cold in Texas. This morning, it's something like 35 and raining. Everyone's shivering and puddle-jumping. I'm telling everyone that it isn't supposed to be like this in Texas.
I heard a song the other day that cracked me up. I don't know who it was by, and I can't find the lyrics anywhere on the Internet, but it went something like, "Oh, there's no white Christmases in Houston!" I laughed and laughed. The first year we were here, it "snowed" on Christmas Eve. It was a light dusting, basically. But everyone loved it.
I remember when my friend Boss saw her first Arkansas "snow." She scoffed and told us that it wasn't "real" snow. Now I understand, Boss. I really, really do.
That's the first and last time I've seen snow down here. I'd venture to say that this year will be void of any white stuff as well.
I'll be spending Christmas in Arkansas this year. The kids look forward to some colder weather. But, anymore, I've come to realize that "cold" really is all about perspective. And, cold-hater that I am, I'll be shivering right along with everyone else in Arkansas.
In Arkansas, 30 degrees was cold. 28 degrees was really cold. If the temperature ranged in the teens, you'd better hope your pantry was stocked, because you weren't leaving the house.
In San Francisco, it stayed chilly for a lot of the year. In fact, most apartments there did not have air conditioners, only central heating. There was hardly any use for an AC. I froze in SF. I dreaded watching that legendary, that beautiful fog roll over the mountains. I knew what seeing that fog meant. Chilliness.
And then I went from chilly to downright cold. Real cold. The honest-to-goodness, real-deal kind of cold. The kind of cold that made me long for temps in the teens.
I moved to Iowa in January of 2003. My brother drove Chicken Nugget and me from SF to Winterset. When we drove through Tahoe and the Sierra Nevadas, I marvelled that so much snow could exist in one place. When we drove through the Wasach Mountains in Utah, Matt pulled over so that we could take pictures knee-deep in snow. If only I'd known . . .
Not only did so much snow exist in one place, it continued to exist. For months. It was cold, ya'll. I spent that first winter learning that hats and gloves are a must, that my child needed a snowsuit and moon boots, and that when you get a note on your car telling you to move it from the curb, you'd better do so. Else you'd find that the snowplow had just buried your car in about five feet of snow.
It made me a nervous wreck to think of driving in that stuff. It was insane. I learned the art of it, of creeping and of turning your wheel in the opposite direction when the car began to slide. WHEN the car began to slide. Never IF it did.
Oh, and as for running - yeah. I used to run in SF. Because, although chilly there, you could run year-round. You could always be outside. The stores sold specialty clothing for running in the rain, and even when it was chilly, mostly it was pleasantly chilly. Perfect for getting out there and getting your blood pumping.
Not in Iowa in January.
I told Buffalo Wings I'd go running. He said I'd fall down. I insisted he was just silly. I had good shoes. He said, "Yeah . . . you're going to fall down."
I ran about half a block. My rear was wet and sore. I had fallen down.
That first winter, CN and I lived in a cute little studio apartment in Winterset. Chicken Nugget saw the snow on the porch, and wanted to take the snow inside and keep it. I tried to explain . . . in the end, I put some in a baggie and let her keep it in the freezer. Until she realized that the snow would keep coming back. For a long time.
Oh, and when it snows, it doesn't matter. School still goes on. The doctor's offices stay open. It's almost as if nothing had happened, even with snow drifts 5 feet or higher along the road. Crazy stuff.
Then we moved to Albert City, which is a town in Iowa that's about three hours South of Minneapolis. Ya'll, it was way cold. I used to walk CN to her preschool, which was about half a block from our house. One morning, we went out, CN all snow-suit-and-moon-boot-clad, me with my trusty hat, gloves, and scarf . . . and it was 30 below zero. No, I'm not joking. It was.
A few days later, CN and I left to walk to preschool, and it was warm! The sun was shining! It wasn't snowing! I even left my coat behind! Buffalo Wings came home that afternoon, and I exclaimed about the warmth of the day! It must have been about 50 degrees outside, I said. He looked at me like I'd lost my mind.
"Honey," he said, "It was 25 degrees outside."
At last, his wife had gained perspective on the cold.
However, if you think about it, going from 30 below to 25 that quickly really is something like a heatwave.
It snowed that Mother's Day of my second year in Iowa. I was like, "No. It's not snowing on Mother's Day. It's May."
But yeah, it totally did.
Our first year down here in Texas, we had a bit of a cold snap early in the fall. I don't know, like 45 degrees or something overnight. I took CN to school and felt like a bad mom. CN was the only one who was just in a jacket and not in a parka with gloves, hat, and scarf.
I write this post today because it is cold in Texas. This morning, it's something like 35 and raining. Everyone's shivering and puddle-jumping. I'm telling everyone that it isn't supposed to be like this in Texas.
I heard a song the other day that cracked me up. I don't know who it was by, and I can't find the lyrics anywhere on the Internet, but it went something like, "Oh, there's no white Christmases in Houston!" I laughed and laughed. The first year we were here, it "snowed" on Christmas Eve. It was a light dusting, basically. But everyone loved it.
I remember when my friend Boss saw her first Arkansas "snow." She scoffed and told us that it wasn't "real" snow. Now I understand, Boss. I really, really do.
That's the first and last time I've seen snow down here. I'd venture to say that this year will be void of any white stuff as well.
I'll be spending Christmas in Arkansas this year. The kids look forward to some colder weather. But, anymore, I've come to realize that "cold" really is all about perspective. And, cold-hater that I am, I'll be shivering right along with everyone else in Arkansas.
Monday, December 08, 2008
Noodle's Latest Funny
We were piling into the van this morning, and Banana was still in the house getting his shoes. Noodle climbs calmly into the van and says, "Mamma, don't leave Banana behind. Because I don't want you to go to jail."
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Well, We Tried! Merry Christmas, Anyway!
Of course, no one looks at the camera at the same time! The above is the best we could do! Merry Christmas! 
Friday, December 05, 2008
A Word From God, Through Noodle
Banana was eating his cereal and Noodle said:
"Banana, God does not want you to eat with your mouth open."
"Banana, God does not want you to eat with your mouth open."
Have you read . . .
A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini, have you?
I've read lots of books. I love to read. I don't think I've ever internalized a book before, not like this. I have spent the past three days reading this book, and each night, I've had dreams about the characters. Last night, I dreamed about Tariq and Laila and their children as they left Pakistan. Before I put the book down to go to sleep last night, that's what the characters were about to do - leave Pakistan to return to Kabul, Afghanistan. I dreamed they had trouble finding a place to live once they got back to Kabul.
This book has been difficult to read (what I mean is, I have loved the book, but it is difficult to read because of the raw emotions due to the true-to-life suffering described in the book), but so brilliantly written, and such an intimately woven story, that I hated putting it down each time that I had to. I enjoy books, but this one has really left a mark on me.
Let me know if you read it, and if so, what you thought.
I've read lots of books. I love to read. I don't think I've ever internalized a book before, not like this. I have spent the past three days reading this book, and each night, I've had dreams about the characters. Last night, I dreamed about Tariq and Laila and their children as they left Pakistan. Before I put the book down to go to sleep last night, that's what the characters were about to do - leave Pakistan to return to Kabul, Afghanistan. I dreamed they had trouble finding a place to live once they got back to Kabul.
This book has been difficult to read (what I mean is, I have loved the book, but it is difficult to read because of the raw emotions due to the true-to-life suffering described in the book), but so brilliantly written, and such an intimately woven story, that I hated putting it down each time that I had to. I enjoy books, but this one has really left a mark on me.
Let me know if you read it, and if so, what you thought.
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
The Rest of the Story . . .
My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. John 10:27
When I was a young(er) adult, I was going through an intense period of doubt regarding a certain spiritual matter. I was reminded by a dear mentor and friend, whom I probably called way too much, that God's sheep will know His voice. He repeated it over and over to me: "My sheep hear my voice . . ." and told me not to worry, because no matter what I thought at the time, I was one of God's sheep. He also said that this was a very exciting time, and that even though I couldn't understand it or see it, God was leading me into some kind of deeper understanding about Him.
Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death . . . Psalm 23:4
Just a few months ago, I caught a glimpse of what I think is the valley of the shadow of death. And for me, it was feeling separated from God. When I think of telling people about what happens in eternity, and when I think that there's either a Heaven or a Hell, what I want to say about Hell is that you are eternally separated from God. I believe what the Bible says about sheol, but what I can't resolve myself to say to anyone is that "you'll burn forever!" More, I'm sorrowful that anyone would ever be separated from God for eternity. At least, that's what I go over in my mind. And if only for a brief period, or maybe a few periods of my life, when I felt separated from God, it was the loneliest, saddest, the time of greatest despair in my life. Although I know that I am, I'm not trying to speak of the theology of eternity, or to preach to anyone; I'm only going over in my mind and put into words my recent experience.
During that time of sorrow and doubt, of trying to pray but not feeling heard, of casting cynical (at best) glances at the Holy Book on my nightstand, I wondered so many things. First of all, why? Why was I doubting? Why couldn't I be happy about the outcome of the wreck? Why couldn't I stand in awe and praise? Why had that event turned into something that caused me to doubt the very existence of God, or His role in the universe, if indeed He was real? Doubts and questions so intense, more than anything I've wondered before, made me wonder about my future.
Not that I wouldn't be alive or happy with my family or my career or any of those things, but I knew that if I really did have a change of faith (to a new God, religion, or whatever), that things in my life would change drastically. That is because everything in my life up till July 14, 2008, had hinged upon the existence of the God of the Bible. Everything that I knew to be true, everything that mattered in life, was viewed through the lense of the intense love of the God who gave His Son for all the pain of all the world. That colored every thought in my head, the way that I treated or didn't treat people, my plans for the future, the way that my husband and I raised our children, what we did with our money, etc. etc. And so, if that changed . . . everything else would to. What would be right, what would be wrong? I'd have a whole new life to learn. It was more than I could bear.
I did something that I've often done, since I couldn't really pray. I asked the Holy Spirit to pray for me. If indeed there was a God, the one that I'd always believed in, then that could still work. In the Bible, in the book of Romans, Chapter 8, verses 26-27, Paul talks about how the Spirit helps us in our weakness. I've always found these words so beautiful and touching, "The Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express." What a moving picture that paints, I think. How many times (like recently) have I gone through things for which I needed prayers, but couldn't pray? Couldn't even find words that would adequately express to others why I needed prayers? But just asking the Holy Spirit to advocate for me, to say those words with groans that only God could understand, while I myself was groaning . . . so I asked the Holy Spirit to pray for me, because that's all I knew to do.
And I shared, the best I knew how, what I was going through with those who loved me. Even when I was afraid that after my story, they wouldn't love me, I shared it anyway. Even if I just knew that they would shun me as a horrible mother and person, or that people would judge me for being anti-spiritual or I don't know what (my mind could think of so many condemnations), I felt compelled to reach out, and at every turn I was met with love. That fact truly overwhelmed me. On some level, I wanted to be hated. I felt I deserved it. I felt that if I were hated, then in some way I could earn back what I'd lost. Don't ask me to explain it or rationalize it; I simply can't. That's how it is with the Deciever, who hates those of us who are in Christ, who will tell us anything to draw us away from Him. Feeling that I deserved hate and could earn anything from God would be Satan's greatest victory. Accepting God's unconditional love and acceptance, and the love He lavishes on me through the hearts of family and friends, was a healing balm and a great gift that Satan didn't want me to experience, for it would draw me closer and closer to God.
I think it was this day in church when I started to hear God again. To think of God longing for me . . . longing to be gracious . . . not to condemn, but to love . . . and then the song . . . I was so thirsty, so weak, so wanting that Fountain, but not knowing how to get to it . . .
There's a song by the Indigo Girls called "Ghost," and though it is not a song about God or anything, I love the lines that say, "The Mississippi's mighty, it starts in Minnesota, at a place that you could walk across with five steps down. And I guess that's how you started, like a pinprick to my heart, but at this point you rush right through me and I start to drown." I don't know how to explain when I began to recognize God's voice again over these months, how I came back into fellowship with Him, how my faith has returned. It was a pinprick at first, I guess. I'm not drowning yet, but I'm about back up to my waist. I think that if I'm going to drown in something, this Fountain is a good thing to drown in.
So this has been my struggle, and this is my struggle: that I'm painfully, finitely human. That my life is, always was, and always will be a mess. That the only answer to my pain and yours and everyone's is the love of Jesus. That I don't understand lots and lots of things, that I never will, that I continue to wonder about stuff. That I know that the trial I've just gone through only makes me stronger for the next one.
I don't know if I've given you the rest of the story, really, but wanted to say that piece by piece, my faith is returning. I can't give myself any credit for this. I can only say that God chose to hide Himself from me for awhile (I believe that God does this, hides but doesn't go away . . .), but also that, like the poem, He carried me through this very dark time. His rod and His staff comforted me, even when I couldn't realize it. He was with me, even though I couldn't see or feel Him.
Well, now that you've read my novel (thanks) . . . I want to say that I'm still going through this. I don't think you can have your world shaken to the core and recover too quickly. Things are still mending, still falling into place. I still ask questions. But at least I've returned to a place of believing that my prayers are heard, that God does not despise my broken and contrite heart. I know that I'm hearing His voice again, and I can't tell You what a place of peace that is. It's overwhelming. If I ever could be speechless (my English teachers always scolded me for my wordiness). . . that aspect of this journey makes me speechless. God is no longer silent, and it is only joy to say that. Whatever I do or do not have answers for at the moment, one thing I do know: Christ and Him crucified. I glory in Him for what He has shown me, and for loving me through this time.
At work the other day, my friend Ms. D said, "Mrs. Donut, I have a friend who is convinced that God hates Him. Now why do you think anybody would believe that?"
My heart was sad for her friend. I just shook my head. I know what that feels like. I remembered the many, many prayers and kind words from friends on my behalf. I encouraged Ms. D to continue to pray for her friend and said I'd pray for him, too. I said, "All that I really know is that there's just one Answer to your friend's pain, and to my pain, and to your pain . . ."
When I was a young(er) adult, I was going through an intense period of doubt regarding a certain spiritual matter. I was reminded by a dear mentor and friend, whom I probably called way too much, that God's sheep will know His voice. He repeated it over and over to me: "My sheep hear my voice . . ." and told me not to worry, because no matter what I thought at the time, I was one of God's sheep. He also said that this was a very exciting time, and that even though I couldn't understand it or see it, God was leading me into some kind of deeper understanding about Him.
Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death . . . Psalm 23:4
Just a few months ago, I caught a glimpse of what I think is the valley of the shadow of death. And for me, it was feeling separated from God. When I think of telling people about what happens in eternity, and when I think that there's either a Heaven or a Hell, what I want to say about Hell is that you are eternally separated from God. I believe what the Bible says about sheol, but what I can't resolve myself to say to anyone is that "you'll burn forever!" More, I'm sorrowful that anyone would ever be separated from God for eternity. At least, that's what I go over in my mind. And if only for a brief period, or maybe a few periods of my life, when I felt separated from God, it was the loneliest, saddest, the time of greatest despair in my life. Although I know that I am, I'm not trying to speak of the theology of eternity, or to preach to anyone; I'm only going over in my mind and put into words my recent experience.
During that time of sorrow and doubt, of trying to pray but not feeling heard, of casting cynical (at best) glances at the Holy Book on my nightstand, I wondered so many things. First of all, why? Why was I doubting? Why couldn't I be happy about the outcome of the wreck? Why couldn't I stand in awe and praise? Why had that event turned into something that caused me to doubt the very existence of God, or His role in the universe, if indeed He was real? Doubts and questions so intense, more than anything I've wondered before, made me wonder about my future.
Not that I wouldn't be alive or happy with my family or my career or any of those things, but I knew that if I really did have a change of faith (to a new God, religion, or whatever), that things in my life would change drastically. That is because everything in my life up till July 14, 2008, had hinged upon the existence of the God of the Bible. Everything that I knew to be true, everything that mattered in life, was viewed through the lense of the intense love of the God who gave His Son for all the pain of all the world. That colored every thought in my head, the way that I treated or didn't treat people, my plans for the future, the way that my husband and I raised our children, what we did with our money, etc. etc. And so, if that changed . . . everything else would to. What would be right, what would be wrong? I'd have a whole new life to learn. It was more than I could bear.
I did something that I've often done, since I couldn't really pray. I asked the Holy Spirit to pray for me. If indeed there was a God, the one that I'd always believed in, then that could still work. In the Bible, in the book of Romans, Chapter 8, verses 26-27, Paul talks about how the Spirit helps us in our weakness. I've always found these words so beautiful and touching, "The Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express." What a moving picture that paints, I think. How many times (like recently) have I gone through things for which I needed prayers, but couldn't pray? Couldn't even find words that would adequately express to others why I needed prayers? But just asking the Holy Spirit to advocate for me, to say those words with groans that only God could understand, while I myself was groaning . . . so I asked the Holy Spirit to pray for me, because that's all I knew to do.
And I shared, the best I knew how, what I was going through with those who loved me. Even when I was afraid that after my story, they wouldn't love me, I shared it anyway. Even if I just knew that they would shun me as a horrible mother and person, or that people would judge me for being anti-spiritual or I don't know what (my mind could think of so many condemnations), I felt compelled to reach out, and at every turn I was met with love. That fact truly overwhelmed me. On some level, I wanted to be hated. I felt I deserved it. I felt that if I were hated, then in some way I could earn back what I'd lost. Don't ask me to explain it or rationalize it; I simply can't. That's how it is with the Deciever, who hates those of us who are in Christ, who will tell us anything to draw us away from Him. Feeling that I deserved hate and could earn anything from God would be Satan's greatest victory. Accepting God's unconditional love and acceptance, and the love He lavishes on me through the hearts of family and friends, was a healing balm and a great gift that Satan didn't want me to experience, for it would draw me closer and closer to God.
I think it was this day in church when I started to hear God again. To think of God longing for me . . . longing to be gracious . . . not to condemn, but to love . . . and then the song . . . I was so thirsty, so weak, so wanting that Fountain, but not knowing how to get to it . . .
There's a song by the Indigo Girls called "Ghost," and though it is not a song about God or anything, I love the lines that say, "The Mississippi's mighty, it starts in Minnesota, at a place that you could walk across with five steps down. And I guess that's how you started, like a pinprick to my heart, but at this point you rush right through me and I start to drown." I don't know how to explain when I began to recognize God's voice again over these months, how I came back into fellowship with Him, how my faith has returned. It was a pinprick at first, I guess. I'm not drowning yet, but I'm about back up to my waist. I think that if I'm going to drown in something, this Fountain is a good thing to drown in.
So this has been my struggle, and this is my struggle: that I'm painfully, finitely human. That my life is, always was, and always will be a mess. That the only answer to my pain and yours and everyone's is the love of Jesus. That I don't understand lots and lots of things, that I never will, that I continue to wonder about stuff. That I know that the trial I've just gone through only makes me stronger for the next one.
I don't know if I've given you the rest of the story, really, but wanted to say that piece by piece, my faith is returning. I can't give myself any credit for this. I can only say that God chose to hide Himself from me for awhile (I believe that God does this, hides but doesn't go away . . .), but also that, like the poem, He carried me through this very dark time. His rod and His staff comforted me, even when I couldn't realize it. He was with me, even though I couldn't see or feel Him.
Well, now that you've read my novel (thanks) . . . I want to say that I'm still going through this. I don't think you can have your world shaken to the core and recover too quickly. Things are still mending, still falling into place. I still ask questions. But at least I've returned to a place of believing that my prayers are heard, that God does not despise my broken and contrite heart. I know that I'm hearing His voice again, and I can't tell You what a place of peace that is. It's overwhelming. If I ever could be speechless (my English teachers always scolded me for my wordiness). . . that aspect of this journey makes me speechless. God is no longer silent, and it is only joy to say that. Whatever I do or do not have answers for at the moment, one thing I do know: Christ and Him crucified. I glory in Him for what He has shown me, and for loving me through this time.
At work the other day, my friend Ms. D said, "Mrs. Donut, I have a friend who is convinced that God hates Him. Now why do you think anybody would believe that?"
My heart was sad for her friend. I just shook my head. I know what that feels like. I remembered the many, many prayers and kind words from friends on my behalf. I encouraged Ms. D to continue to pray for her friend and said I'd pray for him, too. I said, "All that I really know is that there's just one Answer to your friend's pain, and to my pain, and to your pain . . ."
Monday, December 01, 2008
Banana Update
Banana's going to be just fine!
Dr. G was very upset that Banana didn't get better treatment at the ER. Don't get me wrong - everyone at the ER Friday night was very nice. But Dr. G felt they were not in the least bit thorough. He looked in Banana's throat and said that there was our problem - his tonsils were inflamed and full of pus. (Sorry to be so graphic.) He asked if the ER doctors had checked his throat, and was surprised to hear that they had. He said he didn't know how they could have missed that infection.
I love our dr. so much. He really loves the kids, and he doesn't take any crap. I'm not trying to sound ugly here, but sometimes you just need an advocate, and especially when it comes to the health of your kids. I used to be kind-of timid when it came to my kids' health care. After all, I'm not a doctor. I know how to use Tylenol, and that's about it. But the older I've gotten, and the more children I've had, the more vocal I've gotten when it comes to the kids' health care. So I was not in the least hesitant to insist that the ER doctors call Dr. G Friday night, even though I could tell they didn't want to. And I know how much pressure those ER doctors have to be under, with the volume of children that are seen there each day. Still . . . my child deserves the very best treatment as well. I don't go to the ER just for the fun of it. I don't mind waiting, just as long as my baby gets the correct diagnosis and treatment.
Woah! So this totally was not meant to be a little soapbox time for me, but that's what it turned in to! Sorry. All that to say, Dr. G gave Banana a good going-over today and said that as severe an infection as he has, not to be surprised if the fever hangs on for another day or two. Thank you all for your prayers! Now we know what the problem is, and Banana just needs a couple more days of antibiotics and TLC.
Dr. G was very upset that Banana didn't get better treatment at the ER. Don't get me wrong - everyone at the ER Friday night was very nice. But Dr. G felt they were not in the least bit thorough. He looked in Banana's throat and said that there was our problem - his tonsils were inflamed and full of pus. (Sorry to be so graphic.) He asked if the ER doctors had checked his throat, and was surprised to hear that they had. He said he didn't know how they could have missed that infection.
I love our dr. so much. He really loves the kids, and he doesn't take any crap. I'm not trying to sound ugly here, but sometimes you just need an advocate, and especially when it comes to the health of your kids. I used to be kind-of timid when it came to my kids' health care. After all, I'm not a doctor. I know how to use Tylenol, and that's about it. But the older I've gotten, and the more children I've had, the more vocal I've gotten when it comes to the kids' health care. So I was not in the least hesitant to insist that the ER doctors call Dr. G Friday night, even though I could tell they didn't want to. And I know how much pressure those ER doctors have to be under, with the volume of children that are seen there each day. Still . . . my child deserves the very best treatment as well. I don't go to the ER just for the fun of it. I don't mind waiting, just as long as my baby gets the correct diagnosis and treatment.
Woah! So this totally was not meant to be a little soapbox time for me, but that's what it turned in to! Sorry. All that to say, Dr. G gave Banana a good going-over today and said that as severe an infection as he has, not to be surprised if the fever hangs on for another day or two. Thank you all for your prayers! Now we know what the problem is, and Banana just needs a couple more days of antibiotics and TLC.
Very Worried
I'm very worried about my little man, Banana.
This is his sixth day with fever and no explanation. He sees the doctor in about an hour. I had thought for sure the antibiotics would have kicked in by now. Of course my kids have had fever before, but never as high as he's had, and never this many days. He is not sleeping well at night, and when the fever is extreme, he throws up. He's miserable.
Please say a little prayer for my sweetie pie Banana.
Fundraising Letter
I am preparing my fundraising letter for our mission trip to the Czech Republic. It will go something like this:
Dear Family and Friends,
Just a little over two years ago, many of you partnered with me as I took a mission trip to Hattiesburg, Mississippi. You prayed for me and assisted with funds. Because of your gifts, I was able to minister to those affected by Hurricane Katrina. It was an honor to be used by God in that way, to be able to help repair a roof and to show the love of Jesus to those who needed it. I truly felt God's call that summer of 2006 to step out on faith and take that mission trip to Hattiesburg. It was an incredible experience to be used by God during that trip; watching God provide for that trip through many of you made me stand in awe, and I was humbled.
Now there is a new call for my life. I will be taking another short-term mission trip in the summer of 2009, only this time I'll be going much further than Hattiesburg, Mississippi. I'll be going with several others from my church to minister in Litomerice, in the Czech Republic! Is it scary to think of leaving behind my husband and four kids while I travel to Central Europe? Does my heart break at thinking of not being with them for two weeks? Do I think of all the "what ifs?" Yes, yes, and yes. But God's instructions to me are clear, and I go with a mixture of excitement, awe, anxiety, hope, exhilaration, and fear. And above all, I go knowing that I'm being obedient to God's call for me.
As I was growing up, it was always my dream to be a missionary overseas. During my time in seminary, God spoke very clearly to me that my full-time work would not be as an international missionary. As I've grown and learned and listened to Him more, I feel that I'm still on quite a journey into what He wants for my life. These short-term mission trips, I feel, are a big part of what He will be doing in my life and in the life of my family for years to come. I know that God will show me many important things while I am on this trip, and that His name will be glorified in all things that result from this trip.
While our group is in the Czech Republic, we will be helping with a ministry called Bethel House. Bethel House is a place that ministers to young people who come out of orphanages. These young people need crucial job training and life skills, so Bethel House functions as a half-way house for these youth. Their most important need is to have the love of Jesus spoken into their lives. Bethel House operates many English-speaking camps throughout the year. Our church's group will be leading one of these English-speaking camps while we are in the Czech Republic. The English camps are important, because knowing English will help with acquiring jobs. Through the English camps, we will be able to teach the Bible and share the gift of Christ with those who may have never heard. There are many more ministries of Bethel House, one of which is a coffee house that has literature in English for leisure reading. Our church has already collected and sent many books for this ministry. We want to collect and send more before we leave for our trip.
As I pray and prepare for this trip, I am asking for you to partner with me. This can be through funding, prayer, or both. The cost for me to take this trip will be $2500, the first half of which being an immediate need for the purchase of plane tickets. This will definitely be the most extensive and expensive mission trip I've ever taken, but I know that the God who called me to this task will bring it to pass.
I would be happy to share more information with you about the wonderful ministries of Bethel House. I can't wait to give updates and reports as our church's group prepares for this trip. We will spend the next 8 months in concentrated prayer and training before we leave for the Czech Republic. We will be trained on how to do effective English camps and trained about the Czech culture.
Once again, I stand in awe of what God is doing. I stand in awe that He would use me to bring others to Him. I can't wait to share with all of you what He does, and to give you all my report after this trip is finished. To Him be the Glory.
In Christ,
Amy Sickle
D/S McNary, can you think of anything I need to add or remove?
I AM excited, nervous, scared, etc., but rest in the fact that I'm being obedient. Sometimes I think about it, and it seems like cake. Other times when I think about it, I get scared. What if Scott or the kids get sick? What if something happens to my family? What if, what if, what if? Then I am reminded of Luke 9:51-62. I really do want to follow Him anywhere. I really do want to be that obedient. I am compelled to show His great love to others, for He has shown His great love to me.
This mission trip has been quite an undertaking. I am working with a friend of mine, and we are leading the efforts. I'm happy to have my friend in the planning process with me, she being much more organized than I am! Still, to be in charge of something so huge . . . it becomes overwhelming at times, discouraging even. But I remember that Satan condemns and Satan hates this Kingdom work. We keep going, and listen to the greater Voice, the one that has overcome the world.
Much love to all of you. Look for your letters soon! If you would prefer not to get a letter, please let me know. Otherwise, I'm sending one to every living, breathing person in my address book! Not that ya'll actually live in my address book . . .
Dear Family and Friends,
Just a little over two years ago, many of you partnered with me as I took a mission trip to Hattiesburg, Mississippi. You prayed for me and assisted with funds. Because of your gifts, I was able to minister to those affected by Hurricane Katrina. It was an honor to be used by God in that way, to be able to help repair a roof and to show the love of Jesus to those who needed it. I truly felt God's call that summer of 2006 to step out on faith and take that mission trip to Hattiesburg. It was an incredible experience to be used by God during that trip; watching God provide for that trip through many of you made me stand in awe, and I was humbled.
Now there is a new call for my life. I will be taking another short-term mission trip in the summer of 2009, only this time I'll be going much further than Hattiesburg, Mississippi. I'll be going with several others from my church to minister in Litomerice, in the Czech Republic! Is it scary to think of leaving behind my husband and four kids while I travel to Central Europe? Does my heart break at thinking of not being with them for two weeks? Do I think of all the "what ifs?" Yes, yes, and yes. But God's instructions to me are clear, and I go with a mixture of excitement, awe, anxiety, hope, exhilaration, and fear. And above all, I go knowing that I'm being obedient to God's call for me.
As I was growing up, it was always my dream to be a missionary overseas. During my time in seminary, God spoke very clearly to me that my full-time work would not be as an international missionary. As I've grown and learned and listened to Him more, I feel that I'm still on quite a journey into what He wants for my life. These short-term mission trips, I feel, are a big part of what He will be doing in my life and in the life of my family for years to come. I know that God will show me many important things while I am on this trip, and that His name will be glorified in all things that result from this trip.
While our group is in the Czech Republic, we will be helping with a ministry called Bethel House. Bethel House is a place that ministers to young people who come out of orphanages. These young people need crucial job training and life skills, so Bethel House functions as a half-way house for these youth. Their most important need is to have the love of Jesus spoken into their lives. Bethel House operates many English-speaking camps throughout the year. Our church's group will be leading one of these English-speaking camps while we are in the Czech Republic. The English camps are important, because knowing English will help with acquiring jobs. Through the English camps, we will be able to teach the Bible and share the gift of Christ with those who may have never heard. There are many more ministries of Bethel House, one of which is a coffee house that has literature in English for leisure reading. Our church has already collected and sent many books for this ministry. We want to collect and send more before we leave for our trip.
As I pray and prepare for this trip, I am asking for you to partner with me. This can be through funding, prayer, or both. The cost for me to take this trip will be $2500, the first half of which being an immediate need for the purchase of plane tickets. This will definitely be the most extensive and expensive mission trip I've ever taken, but I know that the God who called me to this task will bring it to pass.
I would be happy to share more information with you about the wonderful ministries of Bethel House. I can't wait to give updates and reports as our church's group prepares for this trip. We will spend the next 8 months in concentrated prayer and training before we leave for the Czech Republic. We will be trained on how to do effective English camps and trained about the Czech culture.
Once again, I stand in awe of what God is doing. I stand in awe that He would use me to bring others to Him. I can't wait to share with all of you what He does, and to give you all my report after this trip is finished. To Him be the Glory.
In Christ,
Amy Sickle
D/S McNary, can you think of anything I need to add or remove?
I AM excited, nervous, scared, etc., but rest in the fact that I'm being obedient. Sometimes I think about it, and it seems like cake. Other times when I think about it, I get scared. What if Scott or the kids get sick? What if something happens to my family? What if, what if, what if? Then I am reminded of Luke 9:51-62. I really do want to follow Him anywhere. I really do want to be that obedient. I am compelled to show His great love to others, for He has shown His great love to me.
This mission trip has been quite an undertaking. I am working with a friend of mine, and we are leading the efforts. I'm happy to have my friend in the planning process with me, she being much more organized than I am! Still, to be in charge of something so huge . . . it becomes overwhelming at times, discouraging even. But I remember that Satan condemns and Satan hates this Kingdom work. We keep going, and listen to the greater Voice, the one that has overcome the world.
Much love to all of you. Look for your letters soon! If you would prefer not to get a letter, please let me know. Otherwise, I'm sending one to every living, breathing person in my address book! Not that ya'll actually live in my address book . . .
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Cuddling
I just wish that our camera didn't make all the pictures come out all orangey. I can't wait till Christmas, when we will get a NEW camera! Yay! Orange or not, I thought these were cute:
Just Lots of Stuff
So my long-term sub job came to an end two weeks ago. The first week after it ended was difficult. I missed my kids so much (boy, did they send me off in a grand way. One class even threw a party for me) and I found out that I did not get the 9th grade position for which I'd interviewed. But things are getting better, and I'm still subbing. Also, the manager at Palais Royal called me in to work again. This was my first week back, and I'm having a blast so far. The new manager is so great and we have the same fun crew, with a few new fun people. We really all do mix well as co-workers. It is a blessing.
Halloween was fun. It was a long time ago, and I didn't get any pictures, but it was fun. Noodle was a dalmation. Chicken Nugget was a bat, this being the third year running. Banana was Thomas the Tank Engine. He is WAY into Thomas these days. But he didn't really keep his costume on during the Halloween carnival. We always take the kids to the festival at the church up the street, rather than trick-or-treating. It's because they have free dinner (hot dogs and stuff), lots of games, tons of candy and cookies, bounce houses, etc. etc., and most of our neighbors go too. It's always lots of fun. Oh, and if you're wondering what Baby Butterbean was . . . well, he was a baby. And he stayed home with me while Dad took the big kids to the carnival.
My dad recently had his bladder removed. About nine or so years ago, it was discovered that he had some small cancerous tumors in his bladder. They were recurring, every couple of years or so, but always very, very small and easily removed. His last surgery to remove some tumors was back in July. Daddy never really bounced back from that surgery, as he had always bounced back and recovered well from previous surgeries. The cancer had become too difficult to remove and the doctor said that the bladder needed to come out. So just after we left my parents' house to return to Somewhere Near Houston after Hurricane Ike, Daddy had the surgery. He also had some lymph nodes removed, and because microscopic cancer cells were found in the lymph nodes, Daddy is taking chemo once a week. He is only getting one chemical, and he's been handling everything like a champ. Before his bladder removal surgery, he had been feeling really sick and was losing weight. Now he's feeling much better, is recovering from his surgery well, doing great with the chemo, and is back to his old eating habits :o)! Yay, Daddy!
Mission trip stuff is going great. We'll be buying plane tickets to go to the Czech Republic very soon! I'll write some more detailed information about the mission trip soon. In the meantime, I am raising money for the trip. I'll be sending fundraising e-mails and letters soon, too. Look for yours in the mail!
I had a great birthday. My sweetie hubby got me some great gifts, including a beautiful new comforter set and roses that he sent me at school. He also let me get away to Conroe to spend the weekend with Kelly and her sister, Nikki. We had a great time with each other, Baby Butterbean, and Kelly's nephew, whom she was taking care of while her other sister was out of town. They baby boys are just about two weeks apart in age, and we were in baby heaven. And when they were sleeping, we were in girl-talk heaven. We also went shopping at Sam Moon (AWESOME!!!!) and ate at Macaroni Grill. It was so much fun.
Our Thanksgiving was nice and relaxing, just us. But it was sandwiched between ER visits! Crazy. Wednesday night, Baby Butterbean had such a hard time sleeping. He'd had a little cold, but it had turned into wheezing and coughing and he just couldn't sleep or eat. By midnight, I knew he needed to be seen. So I took him on in to the hospital in our town. He was seen pretty quickly and got some prescriptions, and even including the trip to the pharmacy, we were home within three hours.
Banana had been running a temp since Wednesday night, but it was nothing alarming, and he had no more symptoms. He ran a temp all day Thanksgiving, but was still eating and playing and had no other symptoms. By yesterday morning, his temp had risen to 105.8, and I was in a panic. Our PCP was in Dallas for the holiday, but after calling him, he told me to go to Texas Children's Hospital in Houston right away. I was hesitant, because I'd had Baby Butterbean there once before for suspected pneumonia and waited six hours to see a doctor. I told this to Dr. G, but he insisted I had to go there and that he would call the hospital for me if he had to. After waiting three hours and having Banana's temp checked twice and getting one dose of Motrin, we were finally taken to a room. Two doctors examined him and found nothing wrong (lungs clear, ears and throat looked fine . . .) and they were ready to send us home with the diagnosis of "virus." I told them that Dr. G wanted them to call, and I could tell that they weren't crazy about having to call him, but I'm so glad they did. Long story short, Dr. G ordered bloodwork, and the bloodwork indicated more than just a virus. The white count was really elevated, alarmingly so, so Banana got a chest x-ray (which showed no problems) and a shot of super-antibiotics and a prescription for more antibiotics. His fever was still 105 this morning at about 4AM. We follow up with Dr. G on Monday. By the way, I got to the ER in Houston at 11:15AM yesterday and left at 8:30PM. I felt sorry for those waiting after we left, because the nurse told me there were 85 patients waiting for to be seen.
Whew! I think that's everything for now! I'll get back to everyone after all my laundry is washed, folded, and put away . . . on second thought, no I won't. Ya'll might never hear from me again if I did that!
Halloween was fun. It was a long time ago, and I didn't get any pictures, but it was fun. Noodle was a dalmation. Chicken Nugget was a bat, this being the third year running. Banana was Thomas the Tank Engine. He is WAY into Thomas these days. But he didn't really keep his costume on during the Halloween carnival. We always take the kids to the festival at the church up the street, rather than trick-or-treating. It's because they have free dinner (hot dogs and stuff), lots of games, tons of candy and cookies, bounce houses, etc. etc., and most of our neighbors go too. It's always lots of fun. Oh, and if you're wondering what Baby Butterbean was . . . well, he was a baby. And he stayed home with me while Dad took the big kids to the carnival.
My dad recently had his bladder removed. About nine or so years ago, it was discovered that he had some small cancerous tumors in his bladder. They were recurring, every couple of years or so, but always very, very small and easily removed. His last surgery to remove some tumors was back in July. Daddy never really bounced back from that surgery, as he had always bounced back and recovered well from previous surgeries. The cancer had become too difficult to remove and the doctor said that the bladder needed to come out. So just after we left my parents' house to return to Somewhere Near Houston after Hurricane Ike, Daddy had the surgery. He also had some lymph nodes removed, and because microscopic cancer cells were found in the lymph nodes, Daddy is taking chemo once a week. He is only getting one chemical, and he's been handling everything like a champ. Before his bladder removal surgery, he had been feeling really sick and was losing weight. Now he's feeling much better, is recovering from his surgery well, doing great with the chemo, and is back to his old eating habits :o)! Yay, Daddy!
Mission trip stuff is going great. We'll be buying plane tickets to go to the Czech Republic very soon! I'll write some more detailed information about the mission trip soon. In the meantime, I am raising money for the trip. I'll be sending fundraising e-mails and letters soon, too. Look for yours in the mail!
I had a great birthday. My sweetie hubby got me some great gifts, including a beautiful new comforter set and roses that he sent me at school. He also let me get away to Conroe to spend the weekend with Kelly and her sister, Nikki. We had a great time with each other, Baby Butterbean, and Kelly's nephew, whom she was taking care of while her other sister was out of town. They baby boys are just about two weeks apart in age, and we were in baby heaven. And when they were sleeping, we were in girl-talk heaven. We also went shopping at Sam Moon (AWESOME!!!!) and ate at Macaroni Grill. It was so much fun.
Our Thanksgiving was nice and relaxing, just us. But it was sandwiched between ER visits! Crazy. Wednesday night, Baby Butterbean had such a hard time sleeping. He'd had a little cold, but it had turned into wheezing and coughing and he just couldn't sleep or eat. By midnight, I knew he needed to be seen. So I took him on in to the hospital in our town. He was seen pretty quickly and got some prescriptions, and even including the trip to the pharmacy, we were home within three hours.
Banana had been running a temp since Wednesday night, but it was nothing alarming, and he had no more symptoms. He ran a temp all day Thanksgiving, but was still eating and playing and had no other symptoms. By yesterday morning, his temp had risen to 105.8, and I was in a panic. Our PCP was in Dallas for the holiday, but after calling him, he told me to go to Texas Children's Hospital in Houston right away. I was hesitant, because I'd had Baby Butterbean there once before for suspected pneumonia and waited six hours to see a doctor. I told this to Dr. G, but he insisted I had to go there and that he would call the hospital for me if he had to. After waiting three hours and having Banana's temp checked twice and getting one dose of Motrin, we were finally taken to a room. Two doctors examined him and found nothing wrong (lungs clear, ears and throat looked fine . . .) and they were ready to send us home with the diagnosis of "virus." I told them that Dr. G wanted them to call, and I could tell that they weren't crazy about having to call him, but I'm so glad they did. Long story short, Dr. G ordered bloodwork, and the bloodwork indicated more than just a virus. The white count was really elevated, alarmingly so, so Banana got a chest x-ray (which showed no problems) and a shot of super-antibiotics and a prescription for more antibiotics. His fever was still 105 this morning at about 4AM. We follow up with Dr. G on Monday. By the way, I got to the ER in Houston at 11:15AM yesterday and left at 8:30PM. I felt sorry for those waiting after we left, because the nurse told me there were 85 patients waiting for to be seen.
Whew! I think that's everything for now! I'll get back to everyone after all my laundry is washed, folded, and put away . . . on second thought, no I won't. Ya'll might never hear from me again if I did that!
Thank You So Much, Boss!
I love the fish so much! And even before I read the note, I knew in my heart why you'd picked them . . .
But you may not have known how much I needed the encouragement.I love you, Boss. Thank you!
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Post #316
Hey, there!
It's interesting that this is post ends with a 16. 16 years ago today I was almost 16. Now I teach 16-year-olds for a living. And I look at them and think . . . has it really been 16 years? REALLY? Crazy. It doesn't feel like it.
So here's the deal:
When I got the job that I now have, it was as a long-term sub position with the prospect of becoming a contracted position. The teacher for whom I've been subbing was out on medical leave.
Yesterday, that teacher showed up. No warning, nothing. I walk into my (her) room yesterday and she was waiting for me so that she could talk to me about taking over on Monday. Though I was taken by surprise (my last meeting with my boss was one in which I was assured I'd have this job till the end of the year, and maybe longer!), I tried to smile through it and work to figure out some times that I could meet with her and bring her up to speed.
It's not so bad, though. I may be getting a new job - a contracted position! I had an interview yesterday for a 9th grade position, at the 9th grade campus of the same district. So, I wouldn't really be going anywhere - just next door. If I get that job. And I hope I do. Subbing is great and all, and I wish this had turned into a contracted position, and I really love these 11th-graders, but . . . see, in my house we have this habit of eating. And sub pay don't pay so good. Doesn't pay so well. Whatever.
So, I'll keep ya'll posted about all that stuff. In the meantime, I need to post some pictures. My blog is so BLAH without pics of my kids! My kids are cute. They just are. And I love them. It works out well like that in my house.
And I love all of you! And ya'll need to come down to balmy Texas and visit us. We not only love you, we miss you terribly. And you are very good-looking . . . do I need to keep going, or are you packing your bags already?
It's interesting that this is post ends with a 16. 16 years ago today I was almost 16. Now I teach 16-year-olds for a living. And I look at them and think . . . has it really been 16 years? REALLY? Crazy. It doesn't feel like it.
So here's the deal:
When I got the job that I now have, it was as a long-term sub position with the prospect of becoming a contracted position. The teacher for whom I've been subbing was out on medical leave.
Yesterday, that teacher showed up. No warning, nothing. I walk into my (her) room yesterday and she was waiting for me so that she could talk to me about taking over on Monday. Though I was taken by surprise (my last meeting with my boss was one in which I was assured I'd have this job till the end of the year, and maybe longer!), I tried to smile through it and work to figure out some times that I could meet with her and bring her up to speed.
It's not so bad, though. I may be getting a new job - a contracted position! I had an interview yesterday for a 9th grade position, at the 9th grade campus of the same district. So, I wouldn't really be going anywhere - just next door. If I get that job. And I hope I do. Subbing is great and all, and I wish this had turned into a contracted position, and I really love these 11th-graders, but . . . see, in my house we have this habit of eating. And sub pay don't pay so good. Doesn't pay so well. Whatever.
So, I'll keep ya'll posted about all that stuff. In the meantime, I need to post some pictures. My blog is so BLAH without pics of my kids! My kids are cute. They just are. And I love them. It works out well like that in my house.
And I love all of you! And ya'll need to come down to balmy Texas and visit us. We not only love you, we miss you terribly. And you are very good-looking . . . do I need to keep going, or are you packing your bags already?
Sunday, November 09, 2008
Right on, CBB
I love my friend CBB so much.
She's trying to help a friend with some questions and wrote this post as a result. I loved reading it. I wanted to share it. I hope you enjoy reading it, too.
She's trying to help a friend with some questions and wrote this post as a result. I loved reading it. I wanted to share it. I hope you enjoy reading it, too.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
I May As Well Out Myself
It feels like a really great day.
My guy won.
Yep, I voted for Obama. I never in my life thought I'd be labeled as a bleeding-heart liberal. I feel like I've been running a gauntlet. It would have been really easy to vote for McCain. I mean, it would have been easy to go with the crowd so that I wouldn't have to tell people that I didn't vote for the "right guy." But I couldn't deny my convictions. And I wouldn't have had an easy time living with myself if I hadn't voted my convictions.
As far as who the "right guy" is, that was each person's decision according to his or her conscience. The only reason I mention it here has to do with a meeting I attended recently. Upon entering the meeting, the conversation began to center around the election and the need to pray. I didn't disagree. But then it became clear that there was a sweeping assumption that everyone in that room was voting for McCain. In my naivete, I hadn't realized what a big deal it was not to vote for McCain. I just thought that everybody was voting for the man they thought was best, and that they had their reasons, and that they were adult enough to make that decision. I only had myself to worry about. It was apparent in the meeting that I was the only one there not voting for the "right guy."
The climate in that room scared me just a bit. But, I got over it. As I have gotten over people telling me they will pray for me if I were to vote for Obama. Hm . . . I won't get prayed for if I vote for McCain? I could really use the prayer either way.
So . . . because I suck at rhetoric, I'm just going to post links to articles that say what I want to say better than I can say it.
Love to you all. I'm so thankful that we live in a place that allows us to make these decisions, and then to freely disagree with one another, or even with our government, if we so choose. I hope that if you disagree with me, we'll be able to have some good discussions (even though I suck at discussions about politics) and come out on the other side even better friends than we were before.
My guy won.
Yep, I voted for Obama. I never in my life thought I'd be labeled as a bleeding-heart liberal. I feel like I've been running a gauntlet. It would have been really easy to vote for McCain. I mean, it would have been easy to go with the crowd so that I wouldn't have to tell people that I didn't vote for the "right guy." But I couldn't deny my convictions. And I wouldn't have had an easy time living with myself if I hadn't voted my convictions.
As far as who the "right guy" is, that was each person's decision according to his or her conscience. The only reason I mention it here has to do with a meeting I attended recently. Upon entering the meeting, the conversation began to center around the election and the need to pray. I didn't disagree. But then it became clear that there was a sweeping assumption that everyone in that room was voting for McCain. In my naivete, I hadn't realized what a big deal it was not to vote for McCain. I just thought that everybody was voting for the man they thought was best, and that they had their reasons, and that they were adult enough to make that decision. I only had myself to worry about. It was apparent in the meeting that I was the only one there not voting for the "right guy."
The climate in that room scared me just a bit. But, I got over it. As I have gotten over people telling me they will pray for me if I were to vote for Obama. Hm . . . I won't get prayed for if I vote for McCain? I could really use the prayer either way.
So . . . because I suck at rhetoric, I'm just going to post links to articles that say what I want to say better than I can say it.
Love to you all. I'm so thankful that we live in a place that allows us to make these decisions, and then to freely disagree with one another, or even with our government, if we so choose. I hope that if you disagree with me, we'll be able to have some good discussions (even though I suck at discussions about politics) and come out on the other side even better friends than we were before.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Voting is Cool
My mom told me about her dad and his voting practices. He would say to my mom and grandma, "Ya'll need to go vote." Or, "Did ya'll vote yet?" Probably before or after work, over morning coffee or afternoon coffee. I don't know that it happened like that, but I'd like to think so. Pappa sipping his early morning coffee, before he was off to do whatever errand or job he had that day (he was a plumber). Before my mom was 23 and married to my dad. Grandma in the kitchen, frying some eggs and bacon.
"Ya'll be sure and go vote today," Pappa would say. Never demanding. Just reminding.
And never, my mother said, sharing his political views. Politics were a private issue for Pappa. Mamma said he never talked about them and never told anyone how they should vote.
I loved my Pappa. I always looked forward to seeing him. He died in 1996. He would be surprised, I think, by the way that politics has changed in just the short years since he passed.
Politics, anymore, is definitely NOT a private issue.
Not that it should be. I don't know. You share, I'll share, we can talk about it. But I wonder about Pappa's motives for not sharing. Was it that he was trusting enough of his friends and family to vote their heart, their conscience, and to vote for the right person, so far as they could figure, anyway? Or, could be, that he just didn't want to talk about it. I don't know. But that was his right. Talk about it or don't.
I'm not going to talk about politics. But what I am going to say is, how cool that we live in a place that allows us to vote as we choose. That allows us to vote AT ALL. Not only that, that allows us to stand around the polling area, or sit around in Sunday school or at work or at Wal-Mart or wherever, and discuss our vote. Even disagree with one another! Freely, openly. And when the man is elected, if we don't like him, we can say that! Out loud! Not all places in the world have this freedom.
I trust you to vote for the right guy, so far as you figure who would be the right guy. If we disagree, that's OK. I may not vote for the same guy, after all. But we can stand around somewhere and discuss it later.
"Ya'll be sure and go vote today," Pappa would say. Never demanding. Just reminding.
And never, my mother said, sharing his political views. Politics were a private issue for Pappa. Mamma said he never talked about them and never told anyone how they should vote.
I loved my Pappa. I always looked forward to seeing him. He died in 1996. He would be surprised, I think, by the way that politics has changed in just the short years since he passed.
Politics, anymore, is definitely NOT a private issue.
Not that it should be. I don't know. You share, I'll share, we can talk about it. But I wonder about Pappa's motives for not sharing. Was it that he was trusting enough of his friends and family to vote their heart, their conscience, and to vote for the right person, so far as they could figure, anyway? Or, could be, that he just didn't want to talk about it. I don't know. But that was his right. Talk about it or don't.
I'm not going to talk about politics. But what I am going to say is, how cool that we live in a place that allows us to vote as we choose. That allows us to vote AT ALL. Not only that, that allows us to stand around the polling area, or sit around in Sunday school or at work or at Wal-Mart or wherever, and discuss our vote. Even disagree with one another! Freely, openly. And when the man is elected, if we don't like him, we can say that! Out loud! Not all places in the world have this freedom.
I trust you to vote for the right guy, so far as you figure who would be the right guy. If we disagree, that's OK. I may not vote for the same guy, after all. But we can stand around somewhere and discuss it later.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Bad Days, Good Days
I think that I was so idealistic going into teaching. Like I'd be the next Erin Gruwell or something. Like I was a missionary going to a foreign land and I'd be the instrument of salvation for each student. As if love alone could do all that.
These kids are tough. And they come from tough situations. Sure, I love them. I can find something to love in all of them. But the actual loving part . . . well, these kids sometimes do not act in lovely ways. Like when they are throwing markers at my head when my back is turned. Like when they are trying to make me angry by disrupting class in the middle of a test. Like when they tell me that they hate my class and want to be transferred to so-and-so's class.
I know it all comes from somewhere, but when it's me against them - and there are a lot of them - and when they are being cruel just to be cruel, it gets hard to love sometimes. I have to remember Who loves them more than me. I have to remember Who prepared that classroom for me ahead of time. I have to try to think about what kinds of situations they leave when they walk out the door each morning. Oh, yeah, and I also have to teach them some English.
Today was a good day. A great day. It was one of those days where all the students were smiling and happy. It's homecoming week, as I'd mentioned before, so there's lots of excitement and anticipation this week. There's a bonfire and a parade tonight. The students were talking about it all day.
The students were friendly and talkative today. Talkative can be bad; today it was good. One of my football guys had a t-shirt over his regular shirt. The t-shirt had been painted by one of his friends, and it had his football number and nicknames all over it in the school colors. He took it off and said, "Here, Miss, I want you to wear my shirt today."
This may sound silly or petty, but really, it was a big deal. I was beyond flattered, and I was more than happy to wear that kid's shirt today. Everyone else who came to class for the rest of the day knew who he was and talked about the shirt. It was a fun thing, and something special.
It's things like that that I have to remember and hang onto when the students are being unlovely. And also to remember to check my attitude and remind myself how unlovely I often am. And I have a great life, great family, a lot to look forward to. I know the situations of some of these kids, and truly, if they make it to the 12th grade, they'll have accomplished a great feat. I'm not making light of this. One of my students has already stopped going to all of his classes, and he's only a junior, and it's only October.
Anyway, I'm thankful for the blessing that today was.
These kids are tough. And they come from tough situations. Sure, I love them. I can find something to love in all of them. But the actual loving part . . . well, these kids sometimes do not act in lovely ways. Like when they are throwing markers at my head when my back is turned. Like when they are trying to make me angry by disrupting class in the middle of a test. Like when they tell me that they hate my class and want to be transferred to so-and-so's class.
I know it all comes from somewhere, but when it's me against them - and there are a lot of them - and when they are being cruel just to be cruel, it gets hard to love sometimes. I have to remember Who loves them more than me. I have to remember Who prepared that classroom for me ahead of time. I have to try to think about what kinds of situations they leave when they walk out the door each morning. Oh, yeah, and I also have to teach them some English.
Today was a good day. A great day. It was one of those days where all the students were smiling and happy. It's homecoming week, as I'd mentioned before, so there's lots of excitement and anticipation this week. There's a bonfire and a parade tonight. The students were talking about it all day.
The students were friendly and talkative today. Talkative can be bad; today it was good. One of my football guys had a t-shirt over his regular shirt. The t-shirt had been painted by one of his friends, and it had his football number and nicknames all over it in the school colors. He took it off and said, "Here, Miss, I want you to wear my shirt today."
This may sound silly or petty, but really, it was a big deal. I was beyond flattered, and I was more than happy to wear that kid's shirt today. Everyone else who came to class for the rest of the day knew who he was and talked about the shirt. It was a fun thing, and something special.
It's things like that that I have to remember and hang onto when the students are being unlovely. And also to remember to check my attitude and remind myself how unlovely I often am. And I have a great life, great family, a lot to look forward to. I know the situations of some of these kids, and truly, if they make it to the 12th grade, they'll have accomplished a great feat. I'm not making light of this. One of my students has already stopped going to all of his classes, and he's only a junior, and it's only October.
Anyway, I'm thankful for the blessing that today was.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Look Familiar?
Boss and CBB may remember these well. The purple Chuck Taylors.
I still have them. I still wear them. They do not look as fresh and new as the ones pictured above, however.
Boss, do you remember the two of us passing those things back and forth between the two of us?
This week at school is homecoming week. There's dress-up days, spirit ribbons, you know the drill. Monday was Crazy Day. I wore some non-matching shirts (layered) and on my feet, the Converse. I didn't realize how much attention those things would generate, even though of course I know that they are cool.
Well, now I'm cool. Because I wore my Chucks. Every single class that day made a HUGE deal about my shoes at the beginning of the hour. We had to stop and talk about it. I had to tell them how long I've had them. It was out of control!
I feel I have arrived. :o)
Thursday, October 23, 2008
This Isn't About the Government
Politics ruin most everything. I might be talking about the American government in regard to politics in this political post, but probably I'm not.*
Lobbyists can be really stupid. Sometimes the lobbyists think that they are lobbying for something real, when truly, it is something that is false. But if that lobbyist sees that thing (for which they are lobbying) on a piece of paper, then it makes them feel like it's real. I'd rather have something that is real, but you can't tell the lobbyists that. Not when they say they can sue you, and have threatened to in the past. I hate it when people become so fearful or so worn out that they do something that is unethical, which in this case, of course, means bowing to the lobbyists.
Then you have people who are like the runners in Congress. Those people get really dirty and smelly running around all day. They feel like they are doing something important, but really they're not. They're just getting coffee spilled on them and delivering papers and doing what all the runnees tell them to. The runners think that they can make a difference, because they have big ideas and good hearts, but until they are a runnee (like a congressman or a representative), then they will never really make a difference. I might be talking about an actual runner in the government here, but probably I'm not.**
Then there's the President, Vice President, Speaker of the House, and so on. Sometimes they are so hard to respect because they do things that they know are not right, but they don't want to be reprimanded. They are afraid of the people. They are afraid of stepping on the people's toes. They don't stop to think that sometimes, by not stepping on the people's toes, they are not doing the people any favors. One of these days, the people are going to get into some kind of situation that the higher-ups can't get them out of, and then what will they do? But no one wants to think about the future. They only want to be comfortable for the moment.
And that's the problem with the government.
*I'm totally not.
**Again, not at all.
Lobbyists can be really stupid. Sometimes the lobbyists think that they are lobbying for something real, when truly, it is something that is false. But if that lobbyist sees that thing (for which they are lobbying) on a piece of paper, then it makes them feel like it's real. I'd rather have something that is real, but you can't tell the lobbyists that. Not when they say they can sue you, and have threatened to in the past. I hate it when people become so fearful or so worn out that they do something that is unethical, which in this case, of course, means bowing to the lobbyists.
Then you have people who are like the runners in Congress. Those people get really dirty and smelly running around all day. They feel like they are doing something important, but really they're not. They're just getting coffee spilled on them and delivering papers and doing what all the runnees tell them to. The runners think that they can make a difference, because they have big ideas and good hearts, but until they are a runnee (like a congressman or a representative), then they will never really make a difference. I might be talking about an actual runner in the government here, but probably I'm not.**
Then there's the President, Vice President, Speaker of the House, and so on. Sometimes they are so hard to respect because they do things that they know are not right, but they don't want to be reprimanded. They are afraid of the people. They are afraid of stepping on the people's toes. They don't stop to think that sometimes, by not stepping on the people's toes, they are not doing the people any favors. One of these days, the people are going to get into some kind of situation that the higher-ups can't get them out of, and then what will they do? But no one wants to think about the future. They only want to be comfortable for the moment.
And that's the problem with the government.
*I'm totally not.
**Again, not at all.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Friday, October 17, 2008
Week Three, and YAY for Starbucks!
Well, I'm almost finished with my third week of teaching. It has been great so far.
One NOT great thing - we lost our babysitter! HELP!!!! We love her. She's a great lady with five of her own children. But, something happened to her last week which left her unable to care for as many children as before. Our family was one of the families whose children she had to let go. We are very sad! We're muddling through and trying to find some new child care. We've had lots of help from friends until we find someone permanent. This is a VERY stressful situation! Who wants to move to Texas to be our nanny? You know you want to!!!!!
Yesterday in class, the discussion was about the evolution of the American language from the time of the British colonists. It was very interesting. We discussed the way that not only words have evolved, but how we communicate as well. Namely, the cell phone. And Internet. E-mail, texting, im, you name it, we talked about it. We talked about how dependent the students are on their cell phones. I asked if it was more comfortable to send a text or to have a face-to-face conversation; by and large, they said texting. Interesting stuff. I asked them if they'd ever received a letter in the mail. Faces lit up, hands went up. They said they love getting snail mail. I told them about the "good old days" when we had to use pay phones or the office phone at school, and about getting and mailing several letters a week sometimes. At any rate, this digital age is here to stay. We talked about how even more advanced things may become. Some of my students suggested devices that will eliminate the need for face-to-face talking altogether. Perhaps it will be some type of telepathy sensor. One of my students blurted out, "Yeah, and it'll be like, 'Man, I can't believe you just thought that to me!' "
My students are fun!
Starbucks is awesome. Expensive, but awesome. This morning, I needed some coffee. In the worst way. And since there's a Starbucks on the way to work . . .
As the barista was handing me my tall, nonfat, decaff white chocolate mocha, she asked if I knew anybody who would like a tazo tea. They'd made one by mistake and didn't want to throw it out. I said, "I'll bet I could find somebody!" (and I did, one of the other English teachers) It's like Starbucks just lives to give me free stuff!!!!!
One NOT great thing - we lost our babysitter! HELP!!!! We love her. She's a great lady with five of her own children. But, something happened to her last week which left her unable to care for as many children as before. Our family was one of the families whose children she had to let go. We are very sad! We're muddling through and trying to find some new child care. We've had lots of help from friends until we find someone permanent. This is a VERY stressful situation! Who wants to move to Texas to be our nanny? You know you want to!!!!!
Yesterday in class, the discussion was about the evolution of the American language from the time of the British colonists. It was very interesting. We discussed the way that not only words have evolved, but how we communicate as well. Namely, the cell phone. And Internet. E-mail, texting, im, you name it, we talked about it. We talked about how dependent the students are on their cell phones. I asked if it was more comfortable to send a text or to have a face-to-face conversation; by and large, they said texting. Interesting stuff. I asked them if they'd ever received a letter in the mail. Faces lit up, hands went up. They said they love getting snail mail. I told them about the "good old days" when we had to use pay phones or the office phone at school, and about getting and mailing several letters a week sometimes. At any rate, this digital age is here to stay. We talked about how even more advanced things may become. Some of my students suggested devices that will eliminate the need for face-to-face talking altogether. Perhaps it will be some type of telepathy sensor. One of my students blurted out, "Yeah, and it'll be like, 'Man, I can't believe you just thought that to me!' "
My students are fun!
Starbucks is awesome. Expensive, but awesome. This morning, I needed some coffee. In the worst way. And since there's a Starbucks on the way to work . . .
As the barista was handing me my tall, nonfat, decaff white chocolate mocha, she asked if I knew anybody who would like a tazo tea. They'd made one by mistake and didn't want to throw it out. I said, "I'll bet I could find somebody!" (and I did, one of the other English teachers) It's like Starbucks just lives to give me free stuff!!!!!
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Destruction and Beauty
I've only ever seen one sunset. It was on a beach in Oregon. I was on a Spring Break trip with my friend, and we were driving along the coast, back to San Francisco. She said we should stop and watch the sunset on the beach. I'm so glad we did. Not that I'd never seen the earth turn hazy red, orange, and purple, then dark. It's just that I'd never seen that exact moment when the sun disappears. It was such a thrilling thing, knowing that there's this second, something you can calculate, when the sun goes away for the night. I couldn't believe I was actually watching a movement of that gigantic glowing ball as it sank lower and lower and lower. There was something - a shudder, maybe a chill - when the last tiny brilliant drop of light disappeared into the Pacific. I will never forget that.
I took the kids to the park the other night. It was in the late afternoon, when all the lovely shadows of the last bits of light mix with the colors of the coming evening. I tried to watch, to really pay attention, and see if there was some kind of line that separated the last light from the first darkness. But, like so many other things in life, there wasn't anything definite I could see in those two enteties. Just a kind of magnificent mixture.
I drove around a little bit before we went to the park. I wanted to take pictures of some of the destruction that Hurrican Ike left behind. Those things weren't pretty. There were uprooted trees, damaged homes, and piles of debris. But that magnificent mixture of opposites is still around. It's in my town - in the people, in the work being done, in the lives that have been changed.
Our church has been a central location during the aftermath of Hurrican Ike. It's been home for 300 some volunteers from the Red Cross and North Carolina Baptist Men. The volunteers (or heroes, as our church members have been calling them) have been sleeping, showering, eating, and just living in our church since Ike hit. They take a little rest - sometimes a very little - before going back down the street to the abondoned K-Mart parking lot to serve meals, or back into the community to serve meals, clean up debris, and repair home damage. We church members haven't minded all the air mattresses and cots lined up in the hallways, scattered among the atrium and in classrooms; we've been joyful to assist with laundry and prepare meals for the workers. It has really felt like church. I felt a little bit sad last night, when I went to church and saw a lot fewer air mattresses and cots in the atrium and in the halls. The work is coming to a close. The volunteers are going home. The magnificent mixture is slowly becoming more homogeneus. The destruction - homes lost, sometimes everything people owned - was met by the beauty of helping hearts and hands.
Destruction and beauty. The Bible talks about the refiner's fire. Destruction takes place so that beauty can come out of it. One of my dear professors (I've told this story many times) once called me an ugly pot. He said that I could remain an ugly pot, useless, or I could allow God to break me and remake me and then I would become something beautiful and useful. Would it be painful? Very much so.
I still feel pain when I think about the wreck. It's been almost three months now, but I'm still haunted. And still, in the midst of all the destruction - broken bodies, torn emotions - there was beauty. The beauty of so many prayers lifted up for my family. The beauty of a new sister-in-law who held me while I cried as my baby was being taken away on a helicopter. The beauty of a God who is close to the brokenhearted. The beauty of phone calls from friends, offering love and encouragement.
And even the journey that I've been on since the wreck, the questions about God and faith and Truth . . . even that has had its beautiful moments. As I've been walking on a road that seemed, to me, littered with debris of its own, others have walked beside me. They've girded me up. They've offered their own stories. They've prayed. They still are. Beauty along that road on which I'm tripping over broken stones and fallen trees. Destruction . . . and beauty.
The kids and I stayed at the park the other evening until it was just not enough light to really play. The sky was so beautifully dark with a heavy blue color. The thumbnail moon shone above craggly branches that had been stripped clean and broken in the storm. I took a picture of the scraggly black and broken trees with the thumbnail moon behind. Destruction and beauty all in one place, making something that just should never be forgotten.
I took the kids to the park the other night. It was in the late afternoon, when all the lovely shadows of the last bits of light mix with the colors of the coming evening. I tried to watch, to really pay attention, and see if there was some kind of line that separated the last light from the first darkness. But, like so many other things in life, there wasn't anything definite I could see in those two enteties. Just a kind of magnificent mixture.
I drove around a little bit before we went to the park. I wanted to take pictures of some of the destruction that Hurrican Ike left behind. Those things weren't pretty. There were uprooted trees, damaged homes, and piles of debris. But that magnificent mixture of opposites is still around. It's in my town - in the people, in the work being done, in the lives that have been changed.
Our church has been a central location during the aftermath of Hurrican Ike. It's been home for 300 some volunteers from the Red Cross and North Carolina Baptist Men. The volunteers (or heroes, as our church members have been calling them) have been sleeping, showering, eating, and just living in our church since Ike hit. They take a little rest - sometimes a very little - before going back down the street to the abondoned K-Mart parking lot to serve meals, or back into the community to serve meals, clean up debris, and repair home damage. We church members haven't minded all the air mattresses and cots lined up in the hallways, scattered among the atrium and in classrooms; we've been joyful to assist with laundry and prepare meals for the workers. It has really felt like church. I felt a little bit sad last night, when I went to church and saw a lot fewer air mattresses and cots in the atrium and in the halls. The work is coming to a close. The volunteers are going home. The magnificent mixture is slowly becoming more homogeneus. The destruction - homes lost, sometimes everything people owned - was met by the beauty of helping hearts and hands.
Destruction and beauty. The Bible talks about the refiner's fire. Destruction takes place so that beauty can come out of it. One of my dear professors (I've told this story many times) once called me an ugly pot. He said that I could remain an ugly pot, useless, or I could allow God to break me and remake me and then I would become something beautiful and useful. Would it be painful? Very much so.
I still feel pain when I think about the wreck. It's been almost three months now, but I'm still haunted. And still, in the midst of all the destruction - broken bodies, torn emotions - there was beauty. The beauty of so many prayers lifted up for my family. The beauty of a new sister-in-law who held me while I cried as my baby was being taken away on a helicopter. The beauty of a God who is close to the brokenhearted. The beauty of phone calls from friends, offering love and encouragement.
And even the journey that I've been on since the wreck, the questions about God and faith and Truth . . . even that has had its beautiful moments. As I've been walking on a road that seemed, to me, littered with debris of its own, others have walked beside me. They've girded me up. They've offered their own stories. They've prayed. They still are. Beauty along that road on which I'm tripping over broken stones and fallen trees. Destruction . . . and beauty.
The kids and I stayed at the park the other evening until it was just not enough light to really play. The sky was so beautifully dark with a heavy blue color. The thumbnail moon shone above craggly branches that had been stripped clean and broken in the storm. I took a picture of the scraggly black and broken trees with the thumbnail moon behind. Destruction and beauty all in one place, making something that just should never be forgotten.
Better
Charlie's doing a lot better. The breathing treatments and antibiotics have helped so much. He's really like a different baby. Much more content and happy. So Scott's home with him today, and after that it is business as usual. Just wanted to let everyone know!
Friday, October 03, 2008
My Fifth Day of Work . . .
. . . didn't happen!
Charlie is sick. :o(
He's been sick for awhile. At his two-month checkup, the doctor thought he may have had pneumonia because he was retracting and had a little fever. The next day, we were sent to Children's Hospital of Texas and waited about six hours to be told that there was nothing wrong with him. Not long after that, we evacuated for Ike and spent some time in Arkansas, where I again made a trip with Charlie to the doctor. I didn't like the sound of his breathing and he had developed a cough. The doctor in Arkansas said it was nothing serious, and prescribed a cough medicine.
One night this week, as I was giving Charlie his bath, I noticed that his retractions were getting worse, and were in the middle of his chest instead of under his ribs. He was working really, really hard to suck in some air. I was so alarmed that I started looking up information about asthma. Scott and I found a doctor in Houston, the doctor that saw Charlie just after he was born, and made an appointment right away.
Yesterday, Scott took Charlie in and this new doctor immediately diagnosed Charlie with RSV. He also told us that the medication perscribed by the doctor in Arkansas should be given to no child under the age of two and could have killed him! Now we are giving Charlie breathing treatments every four hours and antibiotics every six.
We have to take him to the doctor again tomorrow (most likely we'll have a follow-up chest x-ray) for reassessment. Though Charlie's case is pretty severe, it's not severe enough to require hospitalization, which is such a blessing.
So . . . I had a really fun day planned for my students. We were going to write a Puritan style sermon about a topic of their own choosing. We were going to write it in class and everything. We've been talking about it all week and the kids were sharing with me all kinds of topics they wanted to write about.
I didn't realize how responsible I'd feel for my class. After only four days, having to be absent today made me feel like I was abandoning them! But they've had a rough six weeks with both their regular teacher and long-term sub leaving before the term had ended, as well as the hurricane to deal with.
If I hadn't been so exhausted today (I got about three hours' sleep with Charlie last night), I'd have called every class period.
Scott and I have worked out our split schedule for next week. He had to go in today, because his grades were due by the end of the day. Next week, I'll stay home the first part of the week and he'll take Wed. and Thurs., and Charlie is released to go back to the babysitter's on Friday (provided all goes well).
Please say a prayer for Charlie! Those breathing treatments are all for the best, but they make him cough so much. It's pitiful. I hate seeing one of my kids sick. I just want to take it away from him and have my happy, bouncy, kicking and smiling little boy back. Poor guy.
So ends my first week of being a teacher while learning to balance family, work, and housecleaning, as well as trying to figure out organizational skills that are helpful to a teaching career! What a week!
Charlie is sick. :o(
He's been sick for awhile. At his two-month checkup, the doctor thought he may have had pneumonia because he was retracting and had a little fever. The next day, we were sent to Children's Hospital of Texas and waited about six hours to be told that there was nothing wrong with him. Not long after that, we evacuated for Ike and spent some time in Arkansas, where I again made a trip with Charlie to the doctor. I didn't like the sound of his breathing and he had developed a cough. The doctor in Arkansas said it was nothing serious, and prescribed a cough medicine.
One night this week, as I was giving Charlie his bath, I noticed that his retractions were getting worse, and were in the middle of his chest instead of under his ribs. He was working really, really hard to suck in some air. I was so alarmed that I started looking up information about asthma. Scott and I found a doctor in Houston, the doctor that saw Charlie just after he was born, and made an appointment right away.
Yesterday, Scott took Charlie in and this new doctor immediately diagnosed Charlie with RSV. He also told us that the medication perscribed by the doctor in Arkansas should be given to no child under the age of two and could have killed him! Now we are giving Charlie breathing treatments every four hours and antibiotics every six.
We have to take him to the doctor again tomorrow (most likely we'll have a follow-up chest x-ray) for reassessment. Though Charlie's case is pretty severe, it's not severe enough to require hospitalization, which is such a blessing.
So . . . I had a really fun day planned for my students. We were going to write a Puritan style sermon about a topic of their own choosing. We were going to write it in class and everything. We've been talking about it all week and the kids were sharing with me all kinds of topics they wanted to write about.
I didn't realize how responsible I'd feel for my class. After only four days, having to be absent today made me feel like I was abandoning them! But they've had a rough six weeks with both their regular teacher and long-term sub leaving before the term had ended, as well as the hurricane to deal with.
If I hadn't been so exhausted today (I got about three hours' sleep with Charlie last night), I'd have called every class period.
Scott and I have worked out our split schedule for next week. He had to go in today, because his grades were due by the end of the day. Next week, I'll stay home the first part of the week and he'll take Wed. and Thurs., and Charlie is released to go back to the babysitter's on Friday (provided all goes well).
Please say a prayer for Charlie! Those breathing treatments are all for the best, but they make him cough so much. It's pitiful. I hate seeing one of my kids sick. I just want to take it away from him and have my happy, bouncy, kicking and smiling little boy back. Poor guy.
So ends my first week of being a teacher while learning to balance family, work, and housecleaning, as well as trying to figure out organizational skills that are helpful to a teaching career! What a week!
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Jessie's Girl
"Where can I find a woman like that . . ."
One of my students brought his pregnant girlfriend by my room. I talked to her about WIC and Zofran. So far, that makes four of my students that are expecting babies. The other three are girls. So I may have more students that are expecting babies with their girlfriends, and I just don't know about it. One of the teachers yesterday called the pregnancy rate in our school an epidemic.
Teenagers are awesome. They just are. It's better than anything. One minute they're hilarious; the next, they're like some ominous funnel cloud, ready to plow down anything in its path. One minute they're confident and outgoing; the next, they are as insecure as newborn kittens. It can make for quite a stage show at times.
How do I get them to understand how much I care about them? How do I get them to understand how important this is? They've got a great chance. They can use this opportunity to do and be anything. The students are labeled according to a system. There's an icon for certain students. I was kind of shocked when I finally realized that the icons meant something, and what they meant. I wish they knew that I did't see an icon stamped on their shirts or anything.
I've got to learn not to compare myself to other teachers. I talked with one teacher today; she's brilliant. She is well-read and scary smart and knows the content and methods backwards and forwards. She is awesome. She is younger than me, skinnier than me, prettier than me. I was like, man, I better get skinny and pretty and smart. But then I thought . . . I'd better just cool it. I'm the kind of teacher that I am. I'm not going to be like any other teacher. I can't. I just have to learn the content and methods and do what I'm wired to do. That's all.
In one of my classes, four of the students speak no English.
I have felt a real weight about being salt and light to the students. I think God is giving me some insight into their great needs.
I miss my babies during the day. It's hard being away from them. Noodle is in preschool at our church now, even. But if I have to do something to make money, I really don't think I'd rather be doing anything else.
One of my students brought his pregnant girlfriend by my room. I talked to her about WIC and Zofran. So far, that makes four of my students that are expecting babies. The other three are girls. So I may have more students that are expecting babies with their girlfriends, and I just don't know about it. One of the teachers yesterday called the pregnancy rate in our school an epidemic.
Teenagers are awesome. They just are. It's better than anything. One minute they're hilarious; the next, they're like some ominous funnel cloud, ready to plow down anything in its path. One minute they're confident and outgoing; the next, they are as insecure as newborn kittens. It can make for quite a stage show at times.
How do I get them to understand how much I care about them? How do I get them to understand how important this is? They've got a great chance. They can use this opportunity to do and be anything. The students are labeled according to a system. There's an icon for certain students. I was kind of shocked when I finally realized that the icons meant something, and what they meant. I wish they knew that I did't see an icon stamped on their shirts or anything.
I've got to learn not to compare myself to other teachers. I talked with one teacher today; she's brilliant. She is well-read and scary smart and knows the content and methods backwards and forwards. She is awesome. She is younger than me, skinnier than me, prettier than me. I was like, man, I better get skinny and pretty and smart. But then I thought . . . I'd better just cool it. I'm the kind of teacher that I am. I'm not going to be like any other teacher. I can't. I just have to learn the content and methods and do what I'm wired to do. That's all.
In one of my classes, four of the students speak no English.
I have felt a real weight about being salt and light to the students. I think God is giving me some insight into their great needs.
I miss my babies during the day. It's hard being away from them. Noodle is in preschool at our church now, even. But if I have to do something to make money, I really don't think I'd rather be doing anything else.
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Day Three
I have the alarm set for 4:45. School starts at 7:10, but I have to be here before that. This morning, the alarm went off and I feel asleep. By the grace of God, I woke up again at 5:12. Already running behind by half an hour . . .
I made it to school on time, but not in time to make copies before class. I had to get my ID made today. That took a long time, because the computer wasn't working right. It took up most of my prep period, but I managed to get all my copies made anyway.
My students are fun. I wish I had more time to talk and joke with them, but business is business. I told them all on the first day that I am here for them. I told them that I am here to make sure they succeed and that I really want them to succeed. And I do. I'm finding that to be true more and more each day. I had to tell them several times today, because they were complaining about how much work I'd given them. I told them it was all for their benefit, and that I don't go home at night and plot their demise. I give them work to help them. I hope they heard me. Really heard me.
One of my students has been asking me lots of questions about God. Those questions come up when we read the sermon, "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God." He kept asking me, was it true? Is God like that? Yesterday, the students were working and talking, I crept over to him, stood beside him, and said quietly, "I don't believe that God is like that." One sentence, but that's all he wanted to know at the time, and it satisfied him.
I am realizing all the things that most non-abstract-random teachers already know. Make a spot for makeup work. Keep account of your absent students so you know what they missed. All this while still not knowing most of their names.
I have a real problem being professional sometimes. It's not a good thing. The kids crack me up. I'm trying to be serious, and they are trying to be disruptive, and I need to maintain my seriousness. But one of the students can make his voice sound just like Andy Dick. It is hilarious. Please ask God to fill me with composure.
So far, so good. Test tomorrow over the elements of a plot and basic literary terms. I'm ready for a week of some group work and not so much lecturing. Lecturing gets so tired. The students need to interact.
I have felt lots of affirmation this week. I feel like I'm doing the right thing here.
I made it to school on time, but not in time to make copies before class. I had to get my ID made today. That took a long time, because the computer wasn't working right. It took up most of my prep period, but I managed to get all my copies made anyway.
My students are fun. I wish I had more time to talk and joke with them, but business is business. I told them all on the first day that I am here for them. I told them that I am here to make sure they succeed and that I really want them to succeed. And I do. I'm finding that to be true more and more each day. I had to tell them several times today, because they were complaining about how much work I'd given them. I told them it was all for their benefit, and that I don't go home at night and plot their demise. I give them work to help them. I hope they heard me. Really heard me.
One of my students has been asking me lots of questions about God. Those questions come up when we read the sermon, "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God." He kept asking me, was it true? Is God like that? Yesterday, the students were working and talking, I crept over to him, stood beside him, and said quietly, "I don't believe that God is like that." One sentence, but that's all he wanted to know at the time, and it satisfied him.
I am realizing all the things that most non-abstract-random teachers already know. Make a spot for makeup work. Keep account of your absent students so you know what they missed. All this while still not knowing most of their names.
I have a real problem being professional sometimes. It's not a good thing. The kids crack me up. I'm trying to be serious, and they are trying to be disruptive, and I need to maintain my seriousness. But one of the students can make his voice sound just like Andy Dick. It is hilarious. Please ask God to fill me with composure.
So far, so good. Test tomorrow over the elements of a plot and basic literary terms. I'm ready for a week of some group work and not so much lecturing. Lecturing gets so tired. The students need to interact.
I have felt lots of affirmation this week. I feel like I'm doing the right thing here.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Chuck Taylors
Kids still wear their Chuck Taylors the same way I did in high school, with the laces tied in a knot on each side instead of tied in a bow.
Something I learned in school today: always make more copies than you actually think you will need.
Something I learned in school today: always make more copies than you actually think you will need.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Breakfast at Tiffany's and more . . .
It was dark and not even humid when I left this morning. Dark, that's typical. Not humid for the end of September in Gulf Coast Texas, not so typical. But I don't think I'd forget anything about this morning, even if it was the most typical of all things typical.
I don't like driving in the dark. Chicken Nugget and I chatted in the early morning darkness on our drive to our friend's house. Our friend AH has a son in CN's grade, and AH is a very nice friend. She loves to have CN hang out with her before school; then she'll drop her son and CN off in the morning.
After a kiss and hug from CN, I hopped back into the car and drove on into the thinning darkness. My mind was going, whirling, and I was nervous. The radio was playing, "Breakfast at Tiffany's," and I found myself singing along and thinking back. Good grief, how did I get here from there? The first time I heard this song was in college, I guess, maybe just after. I can't remember, but a flood of other memories came hurtling toward me. Memories of me before all this. Before kids, before moving away from Arkansas, before being a teacher.
What alarm! Holy cow! I'm a teacher! And what was I to be teaching this morning? As I turned onto Hwy. 90, I remembered. "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God." Jonathan Edwards's famous sermon. How's that for a start to your Monday morning? Nothing like some hellfire and brimstone to get your week off right.
I switched stations. "This is the air I breathe," sang Michael W. Smith. That line . . . "and I . . . I'm lost without you . . . I'm lost without you . . . "
How true that has been in my recent life. I prayed for help for today. I prayed for help for lots of things.
Geez Louise. I have to talk about the Puritans, too, even though Edwards isn't technically a Puritan. He's more part of the Great Awakening. What's a Puritan? WHAT'S A PURITAN???? You remember. Funny shoes. Buckles on the hats. Henry VIII. Thanksgiving. OK . . . I remember now. It's going to be OK. I think.
Then it was that song . . . "Let 'em wish that they were not on the outside lookin' bored . . . " Shine, by the Newsboys. Would I shine today? Who would need some light today? Would I be OK enough to be that reflection that they needed? I didn't feel like it.
Classes were good. They were fun. I had fun getting to know the kids. I had fun pretending to be Jonathan Edwards preaching. I hope the kids learned some stuff. It was just the first day. It will get better.
I'm glad I'm a teacher. I liked it today. I'm ready for the rest of it. We'll see how to tomorrow goes before I say too many other things . . .
I don't like driving in the dark. Chicken Nugget and I chatted in the early morning darkness on our drive to our friend's house. Our friend AH has a son in CN's grade, and AH is a very nice friend. She loves to have CN hang out with her before school; then she'll drop her son and CN off in the morning.
After a kiss and hug from CN, I hopped back into the car and drove on into the thinning darkness. My mind was going, whirling, and I was nervous. The radio was playing, "Breakfast at Tiffany's," and I found myself singing along and thinking back. Good grief, how did I get here from there? The first time I heard this song was in college, I guess, maybe just after. I can't remember, but a flood of other memories came hurtling toward me. Memories of me before all this. Before kids, before moving away from Arkansas, before being a teacher.
What alarm! Holy cow! I'm a teacher! And what was I to be teaching this morning? As I turned onto Hwy. 90, I remembered. "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God." Jonathan Edwards's famous sermon. How's that for a start to your Monday morning? Nothing like some hellfire and brimstone to get your week off right.
I switched stations. "This is the air I breathe," sang Michael W. Smith. That line . . . "and I . . . I'm lost without you . . . I'm lost without you . . . "
How true that has been in my recent life. I prayed for help for today. I prayed for help for lots of things.
Geez Louise. I have to talk about the Puritans, too, even though Edwards isn't technically a Puritan. He's more part of the Great Awakening. What's a Puritan? WHAT'S A PURITAN???? You remember. Funny shoes. Buckles on the hats. Henry VIII. Thanksgiving. OK . . . I remember now. It's going to be OK. I think.
Then it was that song . . . "Let 'em wish that they were not on the outside lookin' bored . . . " Shine, by the Newsboys. Would I shine today? Who would need some light today? Would I be OK enough to be that reflection that they needed? I didn't feel like it.
Classes were good. They were fun. I had fun getting to know the kids. I had fun pretending to be Jonathan Edwards preaching. I hope the kids learned some stuff. It was just the first day. It will get better.
I'm glad I'm a teacher. I liked it today. I'm ready for the rest of it. We'll see how to tomorrow goes before I say too many other things . . .
Sunday, September 28, 2008
A JOB!!!!!!!!!!!
Guess what I got - A JOB!!!!!!!!!
Here's the deal:
I got hired on as a long-term sub for an 11th grade English class. This has the possibility of turning into something more. That's all I can say for now, but it is a very hopeful situation. So for now let's just focus on the fact that the school thought of me first for this position (I was approached out of the blue by this school), and that quite possibly by semester I'll be a *real* teacher!!!!
Thanks for all of your prayers during this process of certification, bed rest, job hunting,
c-section, more job hunting, no job, hurricane, and poof! A job!
Love you all -
Here's the deal:
I got hired on as a long-term sub for an 11th grade English class. This has the possibility of turning into something more. That's all I can say for now, but it is a very hopeful situation. So for now let's just focus on the fact that the school thought of me first for this position (I was approached out of the blue by this school), and that quite possibly by semester I'll be a *real* teacher!!!!
Thanks for all of your prayers during this process of certification, bed rest, job hunting,
c-section, more job hunting, no job, hurricane, and poof! A job!
Love you all -
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
We're Home!
That's it. We're home. Got back in last night. I'll post some more stuff later, with pictues.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
GUEST POST!!
Hello all! I'm Court and ABB (er Mrs. Tasty Tibits?) asked me to give an update.
The Sickle family is safe and sound in AR. They plan to stay in AR for at least another week because their town was hit pretty hard. ABB said today that there isn't any electricity and the water isn't drinkable in their area.
Let's continue to pray for all those that have been displaced by Ike. Thankfully, the Sickle's have ABB's family to take them in. Other's weren't as lucky.
I hope to see ABB this weekend. I always take tons of pics when we're together so, check back on my blog for photo updates next week.
~Court
The Sickle family is safe and sound in AR. They plan to stay in AR for at least another week because their town was hit pretty hard. ABB said today that there isn't any electricity and the water isn't drinkable in their area.
Let's continue to pray for all those that have been displaced by Ike. Thankfully, the Sickle's have ABB's family to take them in. Other's weren't as lucky.
I hope to see ABB this weekend. I always take tons of pics when we're together so, check back on my blog for photo updates next week.
~Court
Thursday, September 11, 2008
I Don't Like Ike
We're taking a hike
All thanks to Ike
We wanna be survivin'
So to Arkansas we'll be arrivin'
We moved to Houston
Four years ago
What we gained was hurricanes,
What we left was snow
So now we are dealin'
With winds free-wheelin'
140 mph and flooding too
no power, no roof, downed trees, Woo-Hoo!
But lucky for me,
I'll only see that on TV
'Cause I'll be livin' large
Drivin' to Arkansas in our family barge
So I'll see all my home-fries
When to Arkansas I arrive
'Cause we're runnin' from Ike today
For Hurricane Ike, we don't want to stay!
The kids can't wait
For grandparents to see
But the drivin' I hate
Nine hours going seventy
Too bad I'm not as strong
As my lineage long,
Who were raised on the beach
Close to the hurricane's reach
My grandma said
They'd all have a ball
And boil crawfish all night
To the sound of the squall
I'm of weak constitution
It is sad to say
So think what you will
Think what you may
But the Sickles are piling
All up in our van
For of dangerous hurricanes
I am not a big fan!!!!!
All thanks to Ike
We wanna be survivin'
So to Arkansas we'll be arrivin'
We moved to Houston
Four years ago
What we gained was hurricanes,
What we left was snow
So now we are dealin'
With winds free-wheelin'
140 mph and flooding too
no power, no roof, downed trees, Woo-Hoo!
But lucky for me,
I'll only see that on TV
'Cause I'll be livin' large
Drivin' to Arkansas in our family barge
So I'll see all my home-fries
When to Arkansas I arrive
'Cause we're runnin' from Ike today
For Hurricane Ike, we don't want to stay!
The kids can't wait
For grandparents to see
But the drivin' I hate
Nine hours going seventy
Too bad I'm not as strong
As my lineage long,
Who were raised on the beach
Close to the hurricane's reach
My grandma said
They'd all have a ball
And boil crawfish all night
To the sound of the squall
I'm of weak constitution
It is sad to say
So think what you will
Think what you may
But the Sickles are piling
All up in our van
For of dangerous hurricanes
I am not a big fan!!!!!
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