Aloha

The time has almost arrived for T and I to head to Hawaii. After having spent so many years wanting to go I now feel strangely ambivalent about it. I think this may be due to the fact that T and I haven't been each other's favorite friend lately. I'm hoping a little South Pacific moonlight might help. Actually, maybe it's just the sleep thing again. Guess there's plenty of time to sleep on the plane tomorrow.

Or maybe I feel guilty about doing something so nice? Like someone said earlier today-- if you've felt you've gotten lots of undeserved blessings it's your job to appreciate them and spread them around. So Thank You, Lord, for such a privilege.

Aloha, Rose

Through a Glass Darkly

I wish I could understand what is wrong with me. No matter what I try to do, apparently I am not a nice person. The depth of feeling I have for my family, friends and God is trapped behind a darkly tinted and soundproof piece of glass that I cannot break.

I would like to say that when I came to know Christ, the glass broke and all this love came pouring out. Maybe for a while it trickled out but then somehow the cracks fused and it dammed up again. All the love and kindness inside is a deep pool of water, flowing and swirling and only visible to those who care enough to press their faces to the glass and look deeply.

What will it take for the glass to shatter and the love to flow? How do I stop the merciless transformation to mean old lady, frozen and frightened and angry, shouting at children from the high window of a dark house?

God grant me the ability to show not only my love but your love as well. Fill me: let me finally be so full that the glass is broken.

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. -- 1 Corinthians 13:12

Vote-B-Gone(tm)

Do you vote?

It's easy to forget, as I sit here today, that in 1917, women went to jail for me. They endured beatings, squalid living conditions, vermin-infested food, force feedings and more because they wanted me to have the freedom to vote. My own grandmother was born into a world where half of the population was forbidden to cast a ballot.

Easy, too, to not think too much about the "religious persecution" that brought the pilgrims here in the first place. The fact that for centuries Catholics and protestants burned, maimed, tortured and murdered one another because one group or another was out of favor of the king or queen doesn't have real meaning for American voters -- even though it should.

Forget the American Revolution -- almost everyone else has. Do you remember anything about the Quartering Act of 1774, the Stamp Act, the Boston Massacre? I stood on a ship in Boston Harbor and tried to wrap my mind around what had been bought for me with blood and sacrifice and I finally got it, just a little bit. But that was years ago.

I drove through Philadelphia Mississippi and I thought about the horrors endured by Civil Rights protesters of the 1960s. I stood in front of the Civil Rights Memorial in Montgomery, Alabama and contemplated each name and date on the black marble. And I wonder now if we have distilled the essence and the message of Martin Luther King Jr. into just another bank holiday.

The thousands of men and women who died in war are just another historical footnote while we sit, fat, dumb and happy, flipping channels and opting out of our sacred duty to choose a representative government. Certain young people in my life inform me in an offhand way that they don't plan to vote because "they're just not interested". The 2000 election expected 19 million evangelical Christians to vote - but four million of them sat out the third closest presidential election in history.

We bat the word freedom around a lot these days and hopefully it isn't losing its context. Freedom to me means that as I cast my ballot this year, it has a significance that people in Iraq, Afghanistan, most of Africa, the Middle East and Asia can only dream of. It's not just my right to go and physically cast my ballot without coming to harm. It's the power of the paper -- that my vote does dictate to an elected official what I want my country to be, how I want to live and what legacy I'd like to leave. It's the sole reason why immigrants flood our borders, why people love us, hate us, envy us and sometimes wish they were us.

November 2 is my President's Day, Martin Luther King Day, Veteran's Day, Fourth of July, Patriot's Day and Women's Equality Day all rolled into one. As the ballot passes from my hands and on to the electoral college, I will not forget how it got there.

A few roses, a few random thoughts

I'm happy because it's the end of a very long week and tomorrow I get to sleep.

I also got to sit down for a short period of time and watch TV last night, a past time which has long ago passed in to luxury status from everyday habit status.

K actually cooked her first full meal last night - I showed her how to grill pork chops and she nuked potatoes and made salad. She isn't ready for the CIA (Culinary version, not undercover spy version) yet but at least I know she won't starve when she grows up. T and I ran around getting all our camping chores and house chores done while she cooked so we could all bug out for the weekend.

Hawaii is just 2 weeks away!

Whatever happened to equal representation? My absentee ballot is loaded with candidates of a certain party -- all running unopposed. If I knew how to go about it the right way, I might actually consider running myself. I'm sick of not having a voice in state government!
Whew, I feel better now!

Oh, here's a few roses...
The "Not Your Typical Top 40" Award: For Chris Thile, who has just released another CD, "Deceiver". I just love variety: country, roots, newgrass, bluegrass, alternative, Christian contemporary, blues... Chris is part of one of my favorite bands, Nickel Creek. New material from any member of the band is always welcome in my CD player!

The "Cool Remerchandising" Award: To the Hampton Inn, which has remerchandised every part of their hotel from the signage ("Smile") in the elevator to the soap wrapper. Not to mention, they finally made shower that are spacious enough that the shower curtain doesn't stick to your leg while you bathe.

The "Instantly Much Better, thanks" Award: I have never shelled out for expensive makeup for myself but I had to try something drastic when I developed a dry, itchy rash from my nose to the outside of my mouth. I ran in to Aveda and they sent me out with 3 products that have instantly improved my skin. My makeup is lighter, the rash is almost gone and my skin looks and feels healthier. I learned a long time ago that cheap shampoo is a mistake and for some people, I guess cheap makeup is too.

There and Back Again

I'm back from the road. I love being out and I love coming back. Like Bilbo, I love a little adventure but it's comforting to come home to my little hobbit hole for a nice cup of tea.

I really enjoy people watching and people watching in airports is like the Olympic level of human observation. I had a lot of fun watching a stylish and zealous guy who was working at a burrito stand in O'Hare. He was one of those guys who works fast, friendly and with a patented patter. You couldn't help but smile at him, even when the cashiers were three times as slow and not nearly so nice.

Also at ORD, some lady actually called me honey and put her hand on my shoulder. I don't even remember why she did it but after a week of very little physical contact (other than the grip-n-grin sessions at business meetings) it was sort of nice. Comforting.

While at one of my meetings I was intrigued by the fringe people (of which I am one) -- those people who don't know how to gracefully insinuate themselves in to a conversations with customers and so instead choose to hang out at the fringes of the party, nursing a drink and passing the time. Some people do this with great grace. Some even begin chatting with other fringe people, thereby becoming un-fringe-y. (But we're all always relieved when our coworkers finally show up).

Also, I found out that if you laugh a lot and blush a little while you're getting the post 9-11 security patdown, security workers really appreciate your good humor. I am now best friends with some security workers in the Nashville airport and told them so. Heck, with that degree of intimacy we're probably engaged in some countries. I like that I was able to make them laugh a little -- I'm sure they get ragged on for most of the day and don't expect someone to have a sense of humor about getting felt up in a public place.

In a time where people are so accustomed to and prepared for people to be unkind or at the very most, aloof, I see there's still a lot of warmth and generosity out there. Cheerful bus drivers, polite passers-by, friendly customer service agents, genuinely nice fellow travelers. Makes the trip there and back again just a little bit better.

Poem from the Road

I slide away from your sleep foggy shore
banked in blankets, slipping back to sleep
as I ease into the navy dawn and drive away.

At the airport, steam and smoke is
wisping upward toward the peachy dawn and
sleepy faces are lining up for morning coffee and bread.

I'm traveling onward to another city but I'm
drifting in and out of orchid-scented dreams
where the trip is taken hand in hand with you, out to the sea.

I lose all sense of time out here, and sense of self
is lost as well -- I tuck neatly into a ticket folder or
hang upon a borrowed hanger, until it's time to come back home.

Most Boring Blog on Earth?

In the last 24 hours I have:
1) eaten Mongolian BBQ with my coworkers
2) had an argument with my teenager
3) received tolerance and (almost) sympathy from my husband
4) watched the Presidential debate
5) watched and accordingly, yelled at/cheered, Survivor
6) eaten 2 filled donuts
7) found out my eldest stepdaughter is registering to vote for Bush
8) scammed free tickets to the Renaissance Festival
9) folded a load of laundry
10) turned my calendar over to October

In my world, any of these topics are ripe for the blogging. In the big, scary, outside world, they probably wouldn't be very inspiring to anyone else, to write about or to read. Some guy whose blog I recently skimmed commented that the most boring blogs on earth are those written by generally happy married women -- this sin of boredom is further enhanced by any mention of children and overt references to Jesus or God.

Guess that makes me guilty on all counts.

Well, I don't care! It's my blog and I'll be dull as dirt if I want to. I have decided that in my life, excitement always seems to equate with bad luck anyway. As in, "Yeah, Jim Bob and I were over at the tavern and there was a little excitement (full on brawl that ended in stitches and multiple arrests)." Or, "I don't know what you're getting so excited (really, royally, pi$$ed) about." I don't want any more excitement in my life. Maybe ever. I would like an "I'm-pleasantly-bored-out-of-my-skull-but-I-have-plenty-of-time-for-crafts" life. A "I'll-be-shopping-all-the-grocery-stores-for-the-best-deals-just-because-I-can" life. Some of my friends have been having some excitement in their lives lately... a co-worker/good friend lost a truck, boat and probably his home in Hurricane Ivan. He and his wife found a 4 day dead jellyfish in a bedroom closet. They've had to throw out every carefully-selected-to-match-the wallpaper-accent-pillow and every save-up-for-something-really-nice appliance they had. Beds, bows, tupperware, shoes, TVs, deep freeze full of food, you name it-- all ruined by 3 feet of sewage and seawater. See? Who needs excitement?

Maybe some people read blogs because they're a cheap soap-opera substitute. I personally like to read blogs with pretty pictures (something I haven't quite mastered myself) and really good writing. Not just clever writing -- there are a lot of people in the blogosphere that fancy themselves smarter and funnier than they are-- but real writing, thoughtful, perceptive and intelligent.

I personally think the most boring blog in the world is one that, like the person it's hiding, tries to be something it's not. I'll do my best to blog the real me -- in all my confused, self-centered, whiny, frank and silly glory. From my counter, it looks like I won't be boring too many people anyway.

In Dreams

"To sleep, perchance to dream
-ay, there's the rub."
--From Hamlet (III, i, 65-68)

The dreams have started.

Anxiety has a lot of different ways of expressing itself and mine comes at night. Yesterday morning I caught some footage of an air show crash on GMA and thought, naturally, of my stepdad. Last night I dreamed that he survived his 1989 single-plane crash only to become old, broken and bedridden by his heart problems. I saw him dying in a hospital somewhere -- I stood next to the bed and watched him suffer the death he might have had if he hadn't wrecked that Piper Cub. Even in waking, I can see his ravaged face in a sickly orange light.

After another late night with K and her overdue history project, I also dreamed I was back in college, doing my RA thing (my alma mater now calls them now CAs and PAs) and still trying to take care of my chronically ill cat. When I decided to go home for the weekend, I called to her and she tried to walk to me but she as she came toward me she was wobbling and falling over, meowing pitifully with each shaking step. In my dream I started screaming "Yasha Na!" "Yasha Na!" (see yesterday's entry).

At least I was spared the "finals-week-and-I-never-went-to-class-and-now-there's-a-test" dream. Or the "I'm-at-work-and-oops-I-have-no-clothes-on" dream.

But in case I thought I was the only one, K had a pretty rough night too. To spare her pride, I won't go in to detail. Suffice to say she didn't exactly wake rested and refreshed, either. Would that we both had the blessing that T has -- the sleep of the undisturbed. Nothing more aggrevating than lying awake next to a racked-out man who doesn't even have the decency to break his snoring pattern while I'm flopping around like a trout out of water.

TROILUS
To bed, to bed: sleep kill those pretty eyes,
And give as soft attachment to thy senses
As infants' empty of all thought!

CRESSIDA
Good morrow, then.

TROILUS
I prithee now, to bed.

-- Troilus and Cressida, Act IV, Scene II

If this makes no sense, consider it a product of sleep deprivation.

Quote, Endquote

Travel is ninety percent anticipation and ten percent recollection.
- Edward Streeter

I'm finally letting myself think about our vacation. We head to Hawaii on October 29, the day of our 10th anniversary. I can't imagine much past boarding the plane and my first toes-digging-in-sand moment on Waikiki -- but I'm trying. I imagine myself flying with a small tote that contains some snacks, my book and a magazine or two. It is not a briefcase and does not weigh 15 pounds. I know we'll be going on a dolphin encounter, too. Beyond that, this trip is a blank slate.

Let Go and Let God

I can't attribute that quote but I sure need to yield to it. Between K's procrastination, T's ongoing health issues and my lack of enthusiasm for cleaning toilets, I didn't have a very relaxing Sunday. I know I am bringing it upon myself - no one designated me head cattle dog. But still I find myself nipping at heels a hundred times a day. And I am becoming a little tired and a little resentful. I need to learn to leave them to the head Cowboy.

She's a girl with the weight of the world on her big brown eyes
She's a girl who's been talking to herself to apologize
She'll never do it again she promised
But then she hasn't been all that honest
Can she trust herself to be herself
Or is she talking to herself again
Hey Friday what you gonna do now
When Monday comes around...
-Switchfoot

I hate Mondays. And I am ashamed that I am not the person I so want to be. Kind, understanding, patient. I get up, I fall down. I get up...


If toast always lands butter-side down, and cats always land on their feet, what happens if you strap toast on the back of a cat and drop it?
- Steven Wright

OK, this made me laugh. I have 2 cats and a loaf of bread. Wonder what could be accomplished here? And for whatever reason, now I'm thinking of cinnamon toast, minus the cat hair.

Yasha Na

Victory Now. Not next month, next week, tomorrow or even in two hours. Pastor Jeff preached on this subject yesterday. How long before we stand up and take back that which belongs to us? As frustrated as I was this morning, I decided to try it. I said it quietly, then a bit louder, just trying it out. Finally I yelled it (I love entertaining my fellow traffic jam-ees at 8 a.m.). You know, I did feel better. I'm going to keep saying it. Yasha Na! Victory NOW!

The best time for planning a book is while you're doing the dishes.
-Agatha Christie

There's still hope. I might be the Grandma Moses of fiction writers.

Rose Awards, Volume 3

I feel like handing out a few roses today...

"Kid in a Candy Store" Award: I don't like Vegas for the amazing amount of porn and the speedy, scroungy, up-for-three-days vibe you get there. But I do like Vegas for the excitement, over-the-top architecture and it one of the coolest stores any girl could ever want to enter... Sephora. I know there are Sephoras elsewhere -- but Vegas' is the only one I've ever visited. Any conceivable beauty bonbon you might ever want or need is arrayed behind the big glass doors. Think of it as a plastic ball pit for grown up women.

"Service with a Smile" Award: To the nice guy at Minsky's take out counter who smiled lots and looked me in the eyes today when I ordered a coupla slices to go. When he said, "Have a good afternoon," I believe he meant it.

"Not the Soup Nazi" Award: Clinton's Deli, also known in these parts as "Up the Hill". Every day, he works alone in his clean and thrifty little shop on the corner of 10th & Jefferson in KC making sandwiches and dishing up the special of the day, mostly for the engineers at HNTB. He has a long line, a friendly smile, reasonable prices and killer chicken salad on marble rye.

"Pay It Forward" Award: Paydata does my company's payroll. This week they took up a collection for the employees in our division in Pensacola, FL. They donated, out of their own pockets, $1,000 to help out with the aftermath of hurricane Ivan. 'Nough said.

"Maybe I was Wrong" Award: Kudos to the organizers of the downtown arena project in KC. Kay Barnes is doing her mightiest to leave a Carol Marinovich style legacy for KCMO. She might just pull it off. Today I saw major ground work being done in 3 locations downtown... Maybe, just maybe downtown KC might end up being fun, safe and functional at long last.

Prayer update

See "Prayer Request" from my entry September 15...

And today from my friend, I received this update:

"This is the latest entry in their online journal. Prayers answered...it sounds like it will be a long haul but she is going in the right direction. Keep em' coming." - SD


Thursday, September 23, 2004 10:16 PM CDT
Wed. Sept. 22: This week of chemo is winding down. She had a bone marrow biopsy and spinal tap in the morning. They are going to biopsy the bone and marrow, plus give the chemo into the spinal fluid. This makes her 7th spinal tap since Sept. 9 and she's hanging in there. The bone marrow procedure was tough, but she made it and doesn't have as many of them on her schedule. She is starting to show signs of the mouth and throat sores (early signs), so eating and swallowing are getting harder. Not good when all of her meds are now oral. They are talking about going home tomorrow. We are working through our anxiety (sort of). It's hard to explain how you can be so eager to leave someplace, but reluctant at the same time. The security of having a nurse in your room at the touch of a button is what's gotten us through so far. Can we do it alone? I practiced flushing her hickman line (IV) at 4:00 AM and Hannah gave me an A! It's amazing how awake you are at 4:00 in the morning when you're in the hospital. And we're reluctant to leave?

Thurs. Sept. 23: Dismissal Day! Hannah is feeling the full side effects of her chemotherapy. She can barely swallow, nauseaus, and her hair is starting to fall out. The nurses kept saying that one morning you'd wake up with hair on your pillow and sure enough there it was this morning. She says her head is tender and everytime I unconsiously go to run my fingers through those brown curls when she's feeling sick, she flinches. I'm really going to miss her hair. We finally got the room packed up and Bob took several wagon loads out to the Tahoe. Hannah is still too weak to walk too far so she rode in a wheelchair to go down to the car. When she left the oncology floor she had to put on her mask because her ANC (white blood count plus some other stuff) is 0. Her goal is 3,000. She got a shot before we left that should help her bone marrow recover and start producing more white blood cells. We were going to have to give her a shot at home every day, but they approved her for this big, one time every 28 days shot instead. Celebrate!We got home to a decorated house at 3:00! The outside, inside and her room were decorated! Good welcome home. We unloaded and dumped the contents of the hospital room in the eating area and I'm not sure how long it's going to take before we get to it. Bob went to the pharmacy and got the 12 prescriptions filled while I tried to make out a schedule for dispensing them. This is why I liked the hospital. It does feel great to home though. Hannah went straight for the couch. After a rest she literally had to crawl up the stairs to get to her room. All she's been saying that she wanted to do was to sleep in her own bed. We've already made our after hours call to the nurse. She has vomitted all of the medicines since she got home. We know this will pass, but the fact that it is happening and she has to wait still stinks. We're working on a liquid med right now (1/2 tsp at a time). It's 11:00 PM and we still have an oral steroid that she has to keep down tonight. We're suppossed to stay calm and play it down, give her stomach a break and casually get her to nibble a cracker and take 2 more pills. Okay, this is getting me down! I'm trying to stay positive, but I'm tired, Bob's tired, Hannah's sick AND tired (Jacob is in bed, but he was exhausted: school, football practice until 5:00 and weightlifting until 8:00, then homework) I can't wait until tomorrow night because that will mean today is the past. Every hour that passes is another hour away from chemo and an hour closer to feeling better.

He does not ignore those who cry to him for help. Psalm 9:12

Keep those prayers coming and we'll see a miracle soon!

Thinking of Anne Frank

"Despite all that has happened, I still believe people are good at heart." Anne Frank

Do you ever wonder if it's true? With all the ways we've found to torment and take the dignity and lives of others, what's left that's truly good? I find myself wondering every time I look at the news. I'm probably one of those victims of information fatigue syndrome. I can only take about 5 minutes of the dead-body-killer-storm-fire-car-wreck onslaught before I have to turn it off. I'm getting so cynical that I'm now surprised when I see someone doing something kind and selfless. What's more, I might start to cry.

Last night I looked over before church to see our pastor bending all the way over to listen to his small grandson. He nodded intently for a few minutes, then hugged him. "but he's a pastor and a grandpa". Perhaps.

I still didn't get it, evidently, because the Spirit had to show me more. About halfway through service, I looked over to see a couple we know listening intently to the sermon. He sat behind her and had his hand on her forehead, as if he were feeling her head for a fever. He was actually supporting her head as they sat. Over the last year or two she has been struck with an illness that has severely impaired her motor control and she tires easily so, as they sat there, he must have known she was getting worn out. Throughout the rest of the service, he continued to listen, peering over his bifocals to see the Bible passages on the overhead and taking notes -- as he gently held her head.

If you can look past the ugly onslaught of blood-red news we get every day, there is still a world out there where people are kind. Witness this article from Jeanne Sahadi at CNNMoney. The Toronto Star just published an article on random acts of kindness, too. Actually, if I think about it, I can add a story of my own. A few months ago I arrived late and alone in Chicago and wanted to take the train from O'Hare to downtown. I had been traveling all week and was low on cash. I didn't know I had to have exact change to get on the train and because it was so late, there was no attendant. A young woman saw me fumbling around and looking pretty frustrated and swiped her transit card and motioned me through. It made my whole night.

Maybe Anne Frank was right. I'd sure like to believe she was.

Fall hues, autumnal blues

I've always loved fall. For one thing, T and I got married in our backyard under a beautiful red maple on October 29, ten years ago. Each year I look forward to fall leaves, Halloween, Thanksgiving, the colors, the smells and the traditions that go with them. I love how the sky shifts one day from robin's egg to azure. How the mornings are cooler and the evenings fall a little sooner. I look forward to climbing in bed under a pile of covers or pulling a warm wool sweater over my head on a frosty morning.

But lately, fall makes me sad. I can't put my finger on exactly why. I think it's a sense of sand spilling through the hourglass, the way that Dorothy watched her life slipping away in the Wicked Witch's tower. Time is moving relentlessly forward and for so long I've only wished that it would slow. Now, while my family is healthy and intact, while T and I are employed, while we're looking forward to a vacation. While I'm wondering if the apples are ready at Vaughn's and how to make the perfect pie crust.

I guess I just need to shake it off and remember there are blessings in every season...

Every Season
Nichole Nordeman

Every evening sky, an invitation
To trace the patterned stars
And early in July, a celebration
For freedom that is ours
And I notice You
In children's games
In those who watch them from the shade
Every drop of sun is full of fun and wonder
You are summer

And even when the trees have just surrendered
To the harvest time
Forfeiting their leaves in late September
And sending us inside
Still I notice You when change begins
And I am braced for colder winds
I will offer thanks for what has been and what's to come
You are autumn

And everything in time and under heaven
Finally falls asleep
Wrapped in blankets white, all creation
Shivers underneath
And still I notice you
When branches crack
And in my breath on frosted glass
Even now in death, You open doors for life to enter
You are winter

And everything that’s new has bravely surfaced
Teaching us to breathe
What was frozen through is newly purposed
Turning all things green
So it is with You
And how You make me new
With every season's change
And so it will be
As You are re-creating me
Summer, autumn, winter, spring

Prayer Request from a friend

"Won't cost you a dime. No matter your religion or belief status, this girl can use your prayers/thoughts, whatever...

When we moved in to our house in G__, some neighbors came with brownies about an hour after we arrived. It was so thoughtful, and they continued to be that way until they moved out (and up to their dream house). They are the M family, and they lived 2 doors down. We watched their daughter Hannah start kindergarten. She is 13 now, and needs prayers.

In late August she went in to have her appendix removed and they did a liver biopsy. After many tests, they dx'd Burkett's Lymphoma. It has spread to several areas in this short time, including near her spinal cord. She also has a tumor in her right quadrant. Hannah is already at stage 3. Please pray for her and her family. This has happened so fast, and even in the best, most miraculous case she will be at (the hospital) for another 6 weeks. "

Let's not forget the important things in life. Not traffic, or work or cat vomit or that my washing machine is vibrating itself across the floor. This stuff is real.

Lord God, Mighty Healer, please see this family through whatever is to come and let whatever happens be YOUR WILL. Don't let the enemy steal one single minute from this child. I pray for her complete and miraculous healing and that she stands as a testament to Your love. Amen.

Welcome to random thoughts, by the Rose

I haven't been very good about writing... a whole week and nothing but silence. I'd like to say I'm working on something brilliant but I'm not, I just can't seem to focus on any one topic.

"I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread." Bilbo told Frodo. Only he had a ring to blame it on. And dark powers. I just have my own distractable mind. Follow along, or try, as we skim over the odd inner workings of my brain for the last few days...

1) I've been musing over what to say to someone who has purposely turned her back on God and is a willing participant in a weekend pagan gathering. Part of me thinks "It's none of your business, butt out." But then the other part, the faithful part, knows that we're to proclaim the Word. And, anyway, how does one believe -- and then not? This is a concept I just can't get. To me, there is irrefutable historical evidence of Jesus and written proof of his miracles and the resurrection. So how does one come to ignore everything they once believed? And what do you say to someone who's been "churched" and left it? How do we reach the people who've been victims of "hit and run Christianity"?

2) T still isn't feeling good and that's been a distraction but not enough of one. I forget sometimes that he doesn't feel good. He is going through another battery of tests, I really hope they figure it out soon so he can stop worrying and feeling worse.

3) Here's a random one: have Renaissance Festivals been co-opted by pagans? No, I'm not obsessed, I promise. But there has always been an "alternative spiritual belief" element in the background. Now I wonder how many people are active pursuers of the occult. And does that make me a bad Christian for still wanting to go?

4) K says she wants to do more "family stuff". But no one can figure out what that is. I think she has this need, this deep craving for protection and closeness and security. Boy, don't we all. I hope that we can do more things together. We still seem to be settling in as a family, grasping for the balance we all need. The blowups are exhausting and the energy is different. But I'm still so happy she's here.

5) Among all my random thoughts, this just popped in to my head:
Psalm 46:10 "Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth." I actually have a yearning to be still. Not to read, not to sleep (although both are heavenly!) but just to be still. There is just one explanation. God must be trying to talk to me.

Herein lies a major dilemma for me: I'm often so busy talking and talking for others, that I am incapable or unwilling to listen. T busted me 1/2 a dozen times the night before last, doing just that. He's ask K a question, I'd answer. At the ER last week, the doctor asked T a question, I'd answer. He says I do it all the time. When did I become that girl?

Be still.

Be still.

Be still.

Where the Heart Is

First, let me say, he's OK.

T called me yesterday afternoon. He was using a scary, small voice usually reserved for those who have either just thrown up or seen a 4-foot spider. He asked me to pick up the kid and then said he didn't feel good. Like really not good. Like "maybe I should go to the ER" not good.

I did two things very fast. Pray and drive. I prayed a lot. I picked him up and he looked OK, which was reassuring but he kept complaining his chest hurt. T never gets sick. Like me, he hasn't seen the inside of a hospital since elementary school tonsil removal. I was not enjoying the sudden change.

We swung by for the kid, who was volunteering at church, headed straight for the hospital. There they ran tests, took x-rays, took blood, gave nitro. Good news and bad news about nitro. If you're having a heart attack, it helps. If you're not --- well... He went from a nice healthy shade of Anglo-Irish pink to a shade only described as pea soup mixed with sour milk. His BP dropped a bunch. That wasn't funny.

While we were there, our pastor showed up. He prayed, yes, but he also just hung out and talked, like I'm sure he's done a million times for others in our church. He didn't give me the "you're not being appropriate face" when I teased T to make him laugh, or when I offered to heart punch him to get everything straightened out. He gave me a gentle hug, nothing too dramatic. He joked with us. He left only when it was time to get back for Wednesday night service, promising to return after. I sent K with him, feeling confident that there would be no serious report from the doctors.

After a little over 2 hours they cleared T to go home -- heart looks fine, take some Motrin, get in to a regular doc to track down the cause of the pain. I took him home and then doubled back for K. She told me then that she loved our church. By the way, she hadn't even told anyone in youth group that her dad was in the ER -- she was surprisingly calm. Like me, she felt in her spirit that there was nothing to worry about.

I, too, love our church. In fact, I'm not sure love is a big enough word for what I feel. After so many years, people, buildings and denominations, I feel that I've come home at last. It isn't just the pastoral staff, who are also friends, it's the warmth of the people who attend. There is a depth of trust there that I've never found anywhere else. The whole service prayed for us last night and no less than a dozen people asked me how he was when I picked K up. And what do you know? They weren't just being nosy.

T's heart is safe and healthy and mine is with him always. And together, the heart of my family is safe in the care of God's good people and a little church in western Wyandotte County. Today that's more than enough blessing for me.

New arrival

I decided over the weekend that it would be fun to set up a blog that gives reviews for the different campgrounds and parks T and I visit... so I'm announcing the birth of a 2nd blog - No Reservations. You can see the link on here.

She's small but, you know, they grow up so fast!!!!

What is this "Emotional Maturity"???

Sometimes I forget I'm all grown up.

Yesterday morning I flew to Nashville to meet with my company's second largest customer. The VP of Sales was supposed to go, too, only someone accidentally picked up her briefcase at the security check and left with it. Her boarding pass, phone, our presentation, etc. were all inside. As I waited for her to board (not knowing what was going on) I started to panic. When the door closed, my stomach tightened into this hard little ball. No matter what happened - I knew I had to go solo. I was panicked.

When I landed in Nashville I reached her assistant and got the story. The MIA VP called me from a pay phone at the airport in KC and told me with which company the car reservation was made. I got directions from the rental car counter and she went back to the office to fax the presentation and hang out in case I needed her. I took a minute or two to collect myself. All the time, I kept reminding myself... I am not 17 anymore. I'm a grown up. I can do this. I won't get lost. I am not alone. God was right there in that Budget rent-a-car with me. I asked Him not to let me say anything stupid.

Other people sometimes have more faith in me than I do. That's a little sad.

The meeting was great. Fabulous. There were a few things I couldn't answer but the buyer was patient and he carved 2 hours out of a very busy day to have lunch with me. Driving away from the offices, I realized I crossed the border in to adulthood a long time ago. I can do whatever is required and people might not even notice that I am scared.

Maybe in some small way, I am finally reaching emotional maturity.

The Criteria of Emotional Maturity
(sent to me in a Valentine's Day card from Barnett Helzberg)

• The ability to deal constructively with reality.
• The capacity to adapt to change.
• A relative freedom from symptoms that are produced by tensions and anxieties.
• The capacity to find more satisfaction in giving than receiving.
• The capacity to relate to other people in a consistent manner with mutual satisfaction and helpfulness.
• The capacity to sublimate, to direct ones' instinctive hostile energy into creative and constructive outlets.
• The capacity to love.

- William Menninger, MD (Co-founder, The Menninger Foundation)

Fun Friday and a 3 Day Weekend!

Rose Awards, Volume 2

Hurray! 3 day weekend!

Best Festival in Kansas City: The Renaissance Festival I have attended most years since it opened. The day T proposed to me, we spent the day there. So much to do and see and a great festival to eat your way through.

Best Use of Late Summer Tomatoes: Tomato, Mozzerella and Basil Salad. Cupini's makes a great one but so do I. Nothing like a homegrown tomato.

Best Chocolate Bar: Godiva's Chocolate Raspberry Bar. So good I wanted to cry. Crying while eating chocolate is nothing to be ashamed of, is it?

Best Satire Featuring a Muppet: Cookie Monster's Analysis of Shakespeare.

Best "Good News" Item of the Week: Astronomers find 4 New Planets. An interesting news item that was buried under much bigger news.

Finally, good news wins the google war - 5.2 million hits for good news, vs. 3.08 million hits for bad news. Heading in to a 3 day weekend after a hectic week (and another on the way), it's nice to know.

Learning to love in a safe place

When I was about 10, I went through some "stuff" at home. My dad remarried and my stepmom and I had a rough and rocky ride for a few years. My mom was out of the picture for a while, which didn't help matters. It wasn't a great American tragedy but it was a defining time for me and it didn't define me well.

I had a friend whose parents were those kind of parents that seemed to collect kids. With three kids of their own, they hosted the band, the overnights, the birthday parties. They were the rural carpool, the most firm voices in the PTA and the parents who always offered to give kids a lift to church. In fact, they took me to church with their family for a few years. They were my hookup for Sunday School, Vacation Bible School and summer camp. They were willing to love me when I was unloveable. They gave me a home. And I don't mean a Saturday night every week or two. I mean whole summers. Full weekends. I ran away at 13 - to their house. No one even wondered where I was: I guess they knew.

That unconditional love saved me. Maybe it didn't make me better, smarter, more religious or more popular. But it gave me such hope and my best memories of childhood. When I think about doing that for someone's else's kid -- especially an annoying one like I was -- I can't imagine what it would take. They included me in holidays, took me everywhere, treated me like I was their own. At the time I didn't think much of it because I was too young to understand what I was receiving. Now I can only reflect with wonder. Why ever would they have done that for me?

You would think as much as I loved them -- still love them-- that I speak to them with regularity. I confess, I don't. I have created this separation between who I was then and who I am now and it's very hard for this woman to reach across to the people I knew when I was that little girl.

There was a very powerful skit that Nicole Johnson performed at Women of Faith -- about how we need to have faith enough to stretch out that thing in us that's withered and weak so that Jesus can heal it. It just flashed in to my mind. Maybe that's God telling me to call these people and say "I love you" just once more. Or to write and say how much I appreciated the evenings we spent singing together, the gift of my first job, the loan of a car to get me there and the patience and sweetness they had with me that made me want to be good for them. For chocolate milk and responsibility and space to be a little wild. For being my safe harbor.

One day, soon, I will.