It’s my sister’s birthday!

My big sis is a year older today.  She always celebrates throughout the entire month of March.  And why not?  I only wish I had thought of the idea first. Birthdays are wonderful!

I wish we could put on huge bashes for every birthday.  A big party is such a cool way to celebrate life and relationships.  The alternative, of course, is to just celebrate the whole month. 

My sister was misdiagnosed several years ago with panic attacks.  She began biofeedback therapy to try controlling her reactions to … fear?  But the panic attacks weren’t happening when she was anxious.  Unfortunately, her doctor heard her describe, with fear, the events of being unable to speak or move and assumed it was fear that stopped her from speaking and moving.  But who wouldn’t be upset at random bursts of paralysis? Two years later, while her husband was deployed and her son was on a missionary trip, she fell to the floor of her kitchen with a grand mal seizure.

She was flown to the hospital where it was discovered she had a very large brain tumor that had been growing unchecked for all that time in spite of the petite seizures that could have allowed for earlier detection if the doctor hadn’t written her off as another woman with anxiety issues.—Do you detect a touch of bitterness?  I share it with most of my family members except the one to whom it is most entitled.

It was a dramatic time, facing the possible loss of such a wonderful person who really was the glue of our family.  She is the one who maintains relationships with the scattered members of our large family.  She is the one who has shown loyalty and acceptance when someone has ‘strayed.’  She is the go-to gal in any situation.  And we realized we might lose her.

I think each family member walked through a very private time during that month or so of acute uncertainty.  We tend to live life oblivious to its gifts.  My sister’s illness shook us from that state of grace to one where we are actively thankful for family, friends and life.

Now we celebrate another birthday for her—one we may not have had without God’s merciful ordering of events.  Her prognosis is a shortened life full of daily meds with a high likelihood of the tumor returning.  This awareness affects the decisions she makes with her husband about their future.  I would prefer to forget it all, but she never can.

So, we live with gratefulness, knowing each day is a gift.  This day, indeed the whole month, is worthy of celebration.

Happy birthday, Diane!

It is not co-ol.

I am in the process of wrapping up a 12 week curriculum. Writing is exciting to me, but to actually produce a book there are so many steps after the creative process.

Thankfully, I am blessed with many who help me along the way.

I have two sisters among them. One is an artsy designer. The other is a brainy programmer. They are the perfect combination for an ambitious-but-less-gifted gal like myself.

For example, as my younger, aesthetically-minded sister ran through one of my pages, she huffed at things like 'rags' and 'rivers.' She told me that is it no ok to let words break unnaturally as they wrap in fully justified text. As I struggled to keep up with all she was seeing--she can tell you the font and size of text down to the tenth just by looking at it--I figure out what she was talking about.

I have words at the end of the line being broken with a hyphen in the oddest of places. I hadn't known to check for things like that.

She is very sweet and co-

ol and I like her so much.

It is my other sister, who speaks all dialects of Computerese, who then tells me how to implement the Shift-Enter command to insert soft breaks in my text to fix all these ugly problems. She can recognize fonts on site, as well. She also knows every keystroke command in Computerdom.

How would I get by without such great family? All right, I better get back to work!

My kids are perfect!

My kids are really terrific.  And I think I know what I am talking about.  I have worked with kids all my life and I know some fantastic kids!  There have been so many little darlings I have wanted to bring home with me for keeps.  And even so, my kids are just cream of the crop.

I was doing our taxes, giving the kids more independent work than what normally defines out school day.  They took the change in stride, with cheerfulness of heart.  I was so thankful for their flexibility and growing independence.  What a blessing to be able to concentrate on something without having to deal with constant interruptions or worrying about why I am NOT being interrupted.

We worked really hard the other day to get the van into our over-stuffed garage because of the snow storm.  I hadn’t accounted for the damage that could result in bringing a snow laden vehicle into what once was storage space with wooden bookshelves. 

My kids hopped in with me rearranging heavy things, mopping up the water left by the van and even in moving the biggest, heaviest (read: most expensive) bookcase to the furthest point in the house to rescue it.  The whole time they sported smiles and eagerness. 

My daughter accidentally set off a mousetrap (you can read why our garage is lined in mousetraps at the moment here) in her work and the look on her face was priceless.  She just sort of giggled and froze.  So cute.

My son was helping with the heavy lifting of this monstrous bookshelf and it was barely something I could lift.  He never stopped smiling as we shoved and grunted up the steps and down the hall.

We played some games with them tonight, and these kids positively crack me up.  They are clever and witty.  They are friends with one another—my number two goal in raising them.  They are soft-hearted and respectful.

There are other great kids out there, I know.  Maybe some higher achievers, some stronger, some less sensitive…But these two kids are perfect for my little family.  I thrill when I think of them and how privileged I am to know their wonderful characters.

The Taxes are Done!

Glory, Hallelujah!  The last several years have presented such a burdensome chore in the form of taxes.  The burden is financial, of course, but it so easily translates to a burden of time and emotion, as well. 

It hasn’t always been this way.  I used to relish the idea of doing taxes—well, the return if not the process.  But our financial condition has changed, making it so that we now regularly owe the government, and I can’t ever figure out how to pay.

Last year we went to a tax preparation company.  I was a basket case at the prospect of doing the taxes, so my darling husband made the appointment.  But the company didn’t do anything I couldn’t do.  I still had to bring all the information together and run the numbers to turn in total for each category.  As I was digging through files, I kept wondering what we were paying these people for.  Then when the damage was announced—not our debt to the government, but their own exorbitant fees—I had had enough.  With a $200 off coupon, their fee was still more than double that—not at all what we were quoted at the beginning.

I went home and got on the computer myself.  Not only was I able to find more deductions, but the cost of the computer program was about a third of their fees.  Whoo hoo for us!

So, this year, we didn’t even consider going outside the home for the processing.  I have known that I need to get on it, knowing we would owe again.  Sometimes I can convince myself that ignorance is bliss.  But it really isn’t.

So, before before February is out, I finished.  I know the numbers—which aren’t as bad as numbers past.  The load is mostly off now.  We just need to come up with the money for the stinking state!

New Storm

We have a new snow storm that came in and we are living in a winter wonderland.  I woke up this morning and stared out my window in amazement.  It sure didn’t look that way when I went to bed early this morning!

My daughter asked why there was more snow in the front yard than the back.  I thought it was just perception, but I went out with my yardstick.  Sure enough the front has 17 inches an the back has only ten.  I guess the dogs really pounded the back yard well before this storm came in, and weren’t in the front as often?  That is my theory, anyway.

Ew

The other day was a very yucky day.  While the kids were writing their stories, I went into the garage (our pantry) to figure out lunch.  You know the times when you can think a remarkable number of things in just a split second?  It takes far longer to tell what you were thinking than it took you to actually think it.  Well, that is what happened here.

I stepped into the garage and was about to open our chest freezer when I heard something to my left—deeper into the garage.  In that moment, I knew what it was.  I did this quick inventory of kids and dogs and knew that sound could be nothing other than what I knew it was.  The word never formed, but just these thoughts.

I turned to look and THERE IT WAS!!!!  A mouse!!  Oh, my whole body just ran with shivers as I typed that.  In the moment I did what any self-respecting girly girl would do.  (Wow, this is harder to write than I thought it would be.  I might need to get a blanket to combat the goose bumps that are taking over my body!)  I screamed and ran into the kitchen, slamming the door behind me.  Both kids looked up startled while I stood with my hands on my face trying to collect myself.

Now, I will say that there was a time when I did all sorts of things that went against my girly nature.  I killed spiders without a peep.  I checked out strange noises in the night.  I cleaned up horrifying diaper blowouts without vomiting.  And I hugged and cooed soothingly on little people while they vomited all over me.  I did it, with my audience none-the-wiser about what was going on on the inside.

But now my kids are older.  They are going to have to come to terms with the fact that mice FREAK ME OUT.  They are old enough to be cool with egg sandwiches twice in a row because the ingredients aren’t in the garage.  And they can handle my random violent shudders for the rest of the day and my refusal to go into the garage even after---well, you know---because THERE MIGHT BE MORE!

Who’s Your Daddy?

Since we live in this world, it is pretty easy to think that what we see and hear and encounter physically is all there is to life.  But living for here and now is really not in our own best interest.  So much of what may motivate us will pass away.  Although it may stretch us sacrificially, it really is worth it to make decisions with an eternal perspective.

We are actually reading a book about Eric Liddell (Chariots of Fire main character, the guy who wouldn’t run on Sundays). He was a super fast runner who set all sorts of records. He made it to the Olympics for the 100 and 200 meter races, but both had either the main race or qualifying heats set for Sundays. He dropped out and ran in the 400 meter race—not at all anything he’d trained for. He won and set another record. It was a huge deal, because before those Olympics, the Scottish/British hadn’t ever gotten a medal in running before.

The people had been SO angry when he dropped out of his own races. They called him a traitor in several newspapers. Then when he won, he was a national hero. People carried him on a makeshift chair sedan through the streets. There were lunches, and banquets and encore races for a year. Someone could get drunk on that sort of admiration.

But he knew even before going to the Olympics that he was going to China as a missionary. He had purpose and an eye on eternity. Without that, his life of public opinion would have left him tossed about and crazy. But with God as his focus, giving up possible Olympic gold medals was something he was able to do with conviction.

I think he is a cool example of one who reaches worldly success without ever being ruled or confused by it. He had a good head on his shoulders and enjoyed the love people shared, but never forgot how quickly public opinion can change. Popularity was never his bread and butter. He feasted on the Bread of Life instead.