Grin and Bear It

             My stomach wound into tight knots as we drove into the parking garage at the children's hospital for yet another visit to the pediatric rheumatologist. It may have been a week ago, but I remember vividly the feeling of defeat. This was the last place I wanted or expected to be. I kept telling myself that it was a blessing to have an expert to help us, but I was dreading what she would say. Just ten days after getting an all-clear from Lyme Disease,  Half-pint started complaining of pain in her knee again.  Within three days, both knees and ankles (plus one heel) were excruciatingly painful. I dialed up the rheumatologist's office and took the soonest appointment, which was a Thursday. The morning of our appointment, I read Psalm 42. Verse 6  starts by saying, "O my God, my life is cast down upon me [and I find the burden more than I can bear!]...I wrote "Lyme Disease relapse" in the margin along with the date. Just the thought of what was ahead was too much to bear. I felt let down to think that we were starting all over again with the disease. Yes, I know life could definitely be worse,  but at the time this felt too big for me. I had made the mistake of looking at information on-line about Lyme reoccurance and life-long struggles.
           The rest of Psalm 42:6 says,"...therefore will I [earnestly] remember You from the land of the Jordan [River] and the [summits of Mount] Hermon, from the little mountain Mizar." Basically that part of the verse is encouraging us to remember what God is capable of. I personalized this part of the verse by saying "... therefore will I [earnestly] remember You from the parking lot of the orthodontist and the kitchen in need of a crockpot, with the little mountain of uncooked beans." You probably don't know the story from the parking lot, so here it goes.
            Back in May my hubby and I talked to two "experts" in the orthodontic field. Both agreed that Mary suffered from severe overcrowding,  but their treatments were considerably different. The more experienced one felt that two permanent teeth needed to be pulled by an oral surgeon as well as having an "impacted" tooth bared to attach a gold chain to it (to drag it down). He also recommended an expander. From my orthodontic knowledge, an expander equals a LOT of pain. Did I mention that all my friends use the more experienced doctor (as well as my brother who lives in the area)? The other orthodontist said there was no need for an expander with the "self-ligating" braces (Damon braces) he used. We didn't need to pull any permanent teeth. He felt that if he made room for it, the other tooth would naturally drop without intervention. We looked at some very convincing before and after photos on Facebook. Is it any suprise that we liked the "less pain", "less intervention", "less cost" plan of the latter orthodontist......at the risk of following advice from the less experienced expert? I wondered if the other orthodontist was right though when he said the tooth would "never" descend on it's own. Her braces went on in June.  In October, our orthodontist told us that we shouldn't wait any longer. We should uncover that stubborn tooth with a laser at her next appointment (so we could pull it down into alignment).  My logical brain said, "He WAS wrong, but at least we don't have an oral surgeon bill." The panic on my daughter's white-as-a-sheet face told me that logic was unhelpful at this point. She was freaking out as only a twelve year old with a huge imagination can. At that point in the parking lot, we prayed and asked God to do what one orthodontist thought was impossible and what our current orthodontist was done waiting for (the dental assistant explained to us that they had waited for over six months for her son's stubborn tooth to drop with no success...which increased his treatment time). A few weeks later when Mary told me her tooth had emerged (and far lower on the gum-line than it was in May), I grabbed her hands and did a hoppy, ring-a-round-rosey dance for several minutes. This victory is what my mind went back to that morning that I knew we would be facing bad news.
          It built my faith. It gave me hope. It gave me the courage to declare that I trusted God to be capable in this problem as well. It gave peace in my heart even though my stomach refused to cooperate. I expected the worse for Half-pint,  but the rheumatologist surprised me. There was no swelling with her pain,  which meant no Lyme Disease. The fact that it was bilateral and in additional places was a result of the weather and a little thing called hyper mobility,  which can be treated with physical therapy not medication. Her heel pain was a normal symptom of growing. She was not diseased. She is just growing and extra flexible. 
          Still, we are having to manage her pain. It has to be consistent for three weeks before it can be diagnosed as "chronic pain". Aleve and Advil don't touch the pain, but we found some essential oils that do the trick (lemongrass,  wild orange,  lemon,  and frankinscense are her favorites). Within seconds,  she feels relief. Right now, we are just waiting for our next step...but we're grinning because we know we are not alone.
          
         

Pure Crockery

            It's the little things that can get me seriously down...like a broken crockpot. No, I didn't break it by shoving the pictured turkey in it either...it cooked just fine with the toaster to hold the lid on. I got a large 7.5 quart oval crockpot for my birthday many years ago, and I probably use it twice a week (here's my most recent favorite recipe for Mongolian Beef). Late this spring the knob on the lid broke, leaving a screw and gasket to seal the lid. At first I just used a potholder to gingerly grab the hot screw and remove the lid when needed. After forgetting to use a potholder a couple of times the need to solve this problem became more urgent. Still, who wants to replace an entire appliance when a small part is broken?  A review on Amazon touted that a certain knob they sold would universally fit all crockpots. Well, it did not.
            I continued to use it and occasionally get burned this summer.  Then, the pot itself broke apart a few weeks ago. I know that you might be scratching your head as to why I don't just go out and buy a new one.  Earlier this summer, my hubby asked me to exercise a little extra frugality as we had a some extra expenses with Mary getting braces, adding twenty plus fowl (which have started producing egg income), and managing twenty plus acres of hay.  If you add into the equasion karate lessons, a theatre production, and additional housing for our added birds, balancing other areas of spending just makes sense. I like to do my part, so that meant looking for a creative solution to the crockpot conundrum.  Besides, I get a real thrill from a great deal. I think it's in my blood...you should hear me talk with my mom and brother. We get really animated when we talk about $3 pairs of jeans or $1 necklaces or inexpensive soy lecithin. (My brother sent me a picture of super cheap gluten-free brownie mix from Sam's, and I was thrilled at the prospect.)
           I decided to check a local thrift store,  carefully asking God to put a crockpot there for me.  I was convinced that the thrift store was His idea since I coicidentally got behind a thrift store pick-up truck after pondering where resale stores were around here. Mary typed the number into my phone for me, and I called later to see if they had the much-desired crockpot. The first visit brought nine more bowls into our possession (any idea how much gets broken with five kids and a tile floor). However, there was no crockpot to be purchased that day, but I resolved to check again as they "are always getting some in". I had made a commitment to bringing chilli for our "Grace-Based Parenting" study several weeks back, not knowing that I would no longer possess a usable crockpot. The day before our study arrived, and I was convinced that God would provide one at the thrift store. I stopped and found no crockpot;  but I was only mildly disappointed because I did find a tricycle to replace a broken one for Mr. Blue Eyes of the exact same model (that was sturdy enough to survive through five kids). It retails for $54, and I found it there for $10. Score! At that point, I tried to reach my sister-in-law to see if I could borrow her pot, but I couldn't get a hold of her. I had thought about posting a "ISO large, used crockpot" on Facebook,  but most of the people I'm friends with love their's as much as I love mine...so I decided on option D) Kohl's.
          I had a thirty percent off coupon for Kohl's,  so I headed there and bought a new one for twenty dollars.  That's not bad, but nothing to call my mom and get excited about either. I felt a little stupid...for not planning better or something,  I guess. I felt like a failure. It's the little things like this that can haunt me. The next night when I related my story to the other fellow chilli maker, she said that oddly enough she had extra pot and cover (the switch on her base had broken). She offered it to me because she said that I could probably use an extra crockpot more than her. Then, I really felt like I should've posted it on Facebook because we are friends...but who knows if she would've seen the post. When I went home and cleaned up the crockpot,  I noticed a huge flaw on the brand new pot. I would've normally just exchanged it; but in light of this gently used pot coming my way, I happily returned the flawed crockpot.  Satan tries to make us feel dumb and like we totally messed up. The whole time God knew exactly what my need was and how to supply it.
           When I picked up the pot from my friend, there was another surprise awaiting me in the pot. She had thrown a shirt from her daughter in there. She didn't know it, but my daughter needed a tan shirt for a dress rehearsal (she was a lion cub) two days from then. Any guess as to the color of the shirt? Yup, it was a perfect lion cub tan.
            I'm reading "Living Courageously", and Joyce Meyer talks about  "the fear of lack". I can definitely identify with this. I constantly wonder if we'll have enough time, money, resources,  etc. There are times when I feel like I've somehow messed up and missed what God was telling me to do. I wonder if because of that mistake I'm doomed to not have what I need. I know I felt like that after buying the crockpot. Joyce talks about one of the names of God: El Shaddai. (I'm instantly taken back to an old Amy Grant song that I loved. Who's with me?!) El Shaddai means the God of more than enough. She talks about God being that God of abundance. She says, "You might say, 'I thought we were supposed to be content with what we have.' You are right, we are to be content and that means satisfied to the point where we are not disturbed no matter what our circumstances are. But that does not mean that we should not trust God to improve our situation and provide for us abundantly." I was worried about one thing, but God orchestrated three things. God is truly able to do "exceeding abundantly above all that we ask and think..." (Ephesians 3:20), and He did it this past month for me.  Because of His continued generosity, "I will bless the Lord at all times; His praise shall continually be in my mouth." (Psalm 34:1)

Finding My Courage Among Other Lost Things

          There are things things that scare me and then there are things that truly annoy me. Most people don't know this about me, but losing one peice of any game or puzzle...or kid's toy...ahem...is almost enough to put me on edge permanently. Most of the kid's toys we own have multiple peices, so motherhood has been a little rough on my obsession with wholeness. I will often spend half an hour (in vain, might I add) looking for one missing Little People horse, so I can put him in the barn and hear the satisfying whiny from shutting the gate of his full paddock. I used to lie awake at night haunted by missing toys. We lost the 5th cup in a stacking set of eight cups for four years. (Just think of how crucial that number is in building a tower!) I'm not sure how many hours of sleep I lost from that one. We found the cup several years later in the bottom of our couch. I've gotten better at accepting that things will inevitably turn up; and nowadays, most of the time, I can just let it go.
            Recently, I had one that I couldn't. Remember the book I'm reading about fear? I haven't been able to find it for almost three weeks now! How am I suppososed to get over this issue if I can't find my book?! I asked God, and that's when He reminded me that He actually wrote the best book on fear, EVER, the Bible. For my birthday (a week ago), I got just what I wanted: a new Turquoise leatherette Joyce Meyer Everyday Life Bible, brimming with "life points" and study thoughts. I decided to start using the new Bible's study section on fear. I've been writing down the verses listed and meditating on them. Guess what? I still find my heart racing at times, but when I remember the verse for the day it does help my panic deflate a notch. Psalms 91:4 is a favorite verse that I meditated on this past week.  It says, "[Then] He will cover you with His pinion, and under His wings shall you trust and find refuge; His truth and faithfulness are a shield and a buckler. " I love the mental imagery of a bird's protection. I've seen first-hand how protective mother birds are of their young, so I especially love this verse.
          A funny thing happened right after I wrote this. I found my book. When I lose something, I typically look where I think I left it. If I can't find it, I pray that God will show me where it is (this is what my mother modeled for me). I usually always have a place come to mind, and I almost always find lost things. I kept feeling like it was under my bed, but I'd already looked there at least twice. I looked again and this time I saw it along with three other things that had been lost (one since the beginning of September). Later while getting out my purse, I found a power cord that had been lost since February. On our way home from church, Carrie said the best thing about her day was finding her Bible. Gracie said the best thing was finding her two sunglasses. We had found those things in the morning, and I didn't start this post until this afternoon.  Before I had even started this post, God had begun uncovering lost items. It was without fail the overriding theme of my day.
          Little things can frustrate me; but some lost things can threaten to bury a person, things like lost hope. We have moved to very hilly country,  and Half-pint has complained of headaches nearly every time we driven on them for the past year. We've tried essential oils, moving her to the front seat of the van, and even feeding her proteins vs. carbs before car rides. We tried her pediatrician's suggestions and our chiropractor's suggestion with no luck. The headaches have persisted, prompting her to beg for days to stay home. There many times that I wondered if we were crazy for moving out here. Half-pint had a doctor's appointment on Wednesday to assess how effective the antibiotics were against the Lyme's disease that she was diagnosed with in September. Our trip to the office was tense for me because I've heard many people talk about trouble with the antibiotics working for Lyme disease and/or the long term effects. I was totally relieved to hear her doctor say that we didn't need to come back EVER (unless her symptoms returned).  Other than a few extra tummy aches, she tolerated the antibiotics really well. I'm beyond relieved that God has fully healed her. Half-pint told me that it doesn't hurt anymore to move or run, so she can once again play games in the AWANA program we go to. That was beautiful news, but the thing that made my heart sing the most was hearing her say her headaches have all but disappeared as well. Apparently,  that was tied into the Lyme disease as well.
              It felt like God was saying, "I hear your prayers; and as you continue to believe that I hear them and will move on your behalf, you will find more than just some lost items. You will find your courage to face each challenge,  no matter how big. I am BIGGER than all of your problems. You may still feel the fear, but it will not define you if you remember who I am." Proverbs 29:25 says, "The fear of man brings a snare, but whoever leans on, trusts in, and puts his confidence in the Lord is safe and set on high."
            When the Little People horse mysteriously showed up at the rug by our front door today, I knew that it was no accident.  It was a gift and a reminder not to lose hope...God is with me.
           
           
            

Union Station

           No one dreams of coming into a train station just in time to line up, dripping with sweat from the exertion of a brisk walk in 80 degree weather whilst carrying an independent toddler in a wrap plus 40 lbs. of luggage. Well, maybe someone would; but I'm pretty sure that it would qualify as a nightmare (I've decided to tag this post as such). For me however, this was no dream.
          It all began very innocently with my mother's dear friend offering to drop me off directly at the train station.  I had taken the Metrolink (from the Amtrak station) to our hotel for the Joyce Meyer women's conference and was prepared to take it back as well. The offer for quick door to door service was too nice to pass up though. In Chicago and Kansas City,  Amtrak departs from "Union Station". This is not the case in St. Louis; and no one is to blame, but me. I was reading the map and asked to be dropped off there. It is, in fact, 0.6 miles apart (according to Google maps). When they dropped me off in front of Union Station, I had an extra 20 minutes;  so I wasn't worried at all about making it inside to my train. After walking the length of the block without spying any signs for Amtrak, I figured I must just be on the wrong side of the building; but my heart began to sink as I found no such evidence.  I asked a security officer for help and realized I still had quite a ways to go. After getting confused from his directions,  I stopped to let the squirmy Mr. Blue Eyes down from my Storkenwege and consult Google Maps. I was relieved to see that the end was in site, but unfortunately Google maps doesn't know where the sidewalk barriers will prevent you from crossing at the stoplights. I had to do a bit of backtracking and Mr. Blue Eyes protested being placed back in my wrap (a few minutes later, I smelled his reason for disgruntlement). This wasn't the moment that I could handle an inquisitive one-year-old old dashing into the road or running down the sidewalk. It took a little doing, but I got everything together. In the meantime, I got a very funny look from someone who looked like a cross between Jamie Kennedy and Opie Taylor...maybe it was the confused look on my face, the wailing of my son, or the shaking of my hands. Would I even make it on time? I began praying and reviewing in my mind some of the things Joyce had said about fears. She had encouraged us to sing a simple song when we were afraid; and so I began signing, "I've got it. I've got it. I've really, really got it." She talked about how we have nothing to fear with the Holy Spirit dwelling in us. We have Him with us always.
           Thankfully,  I arrived just as they were boarding. A couple took pity on me and helped me down the escalator with my luggage (the elevator was, of course, out of order). Because of the long hike,  Mr. Blue Eyes took a three hour nap in my arms while on the train. I was tempted to wake him after an hour and a half (like I do at home), but I felt like I should just wait and enjoy the quiet. It must've been the Holy Spirit speaking because the train ended up being delayed by 2 1/2 hours, and he was still a happy camper at 11:50pm due to the prolonged nap.
             This whole ordeal reminded me of parenting. We think we know where we are headed,  but sometimes just as we think we've arrived and taken a shortcut...we find out there is even more work to do. God has really been dealing with my heart about fear, and I recently started a Bible study on Fridays called "Grace-Based Parenting". It's based on a book by Tim Kimmel. After the first video session,  I was a little discouraged by how vague it seemed. Then, I got the book that I had purchased (used off of Amazon) and almost fell over. He is a wonderful writer! God is using this book to address fear in my life in a different aspect. He talked about different common mistakes in parenting and one in particular caught my eye. He calls it "Fear- Based Parenting". I know that I have been guilty of this at least a few times. The problem that he points out with basing your judgements on your fears is that you are demonstrating to your children how small you believe God to be. He says, " Making safety the priority tells our children that we think God is incapable of doing what He said He would do for His children. Obviously,  God wants us to shrewdly bring our children up within a corrupted world system,  careful to make sure that they don't have to process issues to big for them. Many parents assume that all pressures from the corrupted world are too big for their children. " These fears are a trick from Satan to keep you and your children from experiencing God's power. Of course,  we shouldn't just throw our young children to the wolves; but we need to be intentional about showing them how to turn to God for help in the midst of problems...we can't just shield them from everything. I love that he write that "safe Christians" is really an oxymoron. How can you really protect someone from everything and still reach out to others who need to know God?  He writes that we need to demonstrate a strong hope about the future even while going through struggles because ultimately we trust God to be in control. I'm loving this book, and I feel like it is no accident that God has laid this in my path to read at the same time as the other book I'm chewing on (Living Courageously).
              I won't make the same mistake about Union Station in St. Louis,  and I'm determined to start parenting in the direction and with the confidence that I had hoped to all along. I know one of the purposes God has called me to is being a good mom to my children without all the fears that have been running our lives. To check out what other moms have to say about their purpose, check out www.jillsavage.org

What have you read recently or discovered about your fears?

The "Louse"-y Month that Ended Well

          I love learning, but the things I could tell you about head lice at this point is ridiculous.  It has always been one of my worst nightmares to have to make an announcement about "having lice" to friends and families. This past month, I've walked through a lot of fears (it was kind of been my theme for the month). Mary has brought so much excitement and happiness to our lives. However, this month she brought us itchiness. Near the beginning of September, she complained of an itchy scalp; and being the caring mother of five that I am, I briefly inspected her head. No bugs, no bumps, no white specks meant no problem in my mind. I figured that she just hadn't been washing out her shampoo well enough.
          A week later, Half-pint spotted a louse crawling across Mary's hair part (her visual acuity is amazing). After a doctor appointment due to some serious denial and inexperience on my part,  I sent hurried notes to those we had recently seen (like a new friend I had over for the first time that day, "Hope you enjoyed your visit to our farm...of head lice!") and those we had planned to see. I then made a very quick trip to Wal-Mart for the recommended shampoo. I'm all for natural stuff, but ten minutes till complete annihilation of lice sounded pretty appropriate at the time. However after bagging all of her stuffed items and treating her hair, I felt despair well up within me after I picked live louse after live louse out of her hair with the nit comb (my final count of live lice was over thirty). Since it was midnight by the time I was done, I gave up and went to bed. At 5am, I woke up to a horrible itching sensation.  The pediatrician said I'd know if I'd gotten it because "it's uncomfortable". Oh, yes, I knew!  At this point,  I was convinced these lice were resistant to the pesticides;  so I began googling essential oils treatments. Every site had a different recommendation,  but nearly all of the recommended Melaleuca for both lice repellent and insecticide. Unfortunately,  that is one oil I didn't own (notice the past tense). Instead,  I poured coconut oil and lavender and eucalyptus all over my head.  Then I sealed it up with some Saran Wrap and began texting my friend, begging her to order me some Melaleuca.  Eventually the itching subsided and I calmed down enough to go over the info from our pediatrician.  They recommended Cetaphil if the pesticide didn't work. Yes, we're talking gentle daily facial cleanser. (Here's the info in case you ever need it.) The kids and I traveled 20 minutes to snatch the last two bottles on sale at Walgreens. The rest of the day was a blur of applications,  nit-combing and blow-drying. Fortunately,  no one else had any nits or lice during their wet combing that evening (for the record,  I couldn't find any on my head that night either...but they may have been obscured by the bleeding birthmarks on my scalp line that didn't agree with the cheap plastic comb included in our kit). It's 3 1/2 weeks later,and I'm now starting to consider inviting a families over for playdates again.
           That's not the only buggy issue we had this month. Half-pint has had some swelling in her knee joint that we followed up on with lab work.  Last week, we were notified that she has Lyme's disease (which is being treated with antibiotics for the next four weeks). Lyme disease always scared me, but juvenile rheumatoid arthritis scares me more. At least Lyme disease doesn't mean managing pain for the foreseeable future...or continued doctor appointments an hour away. This was definitely an answer to prayer; and considering the natural tick predators that we've added to our family of fowl (lovingly named "Tic" and "Tac"), we will hopefully not deal with this again. I couldn't resist throwing a picture of their ugly diseased bug killing faces in with this post (I wonder if they eat lice too).
           If you'd have asked me if I was a fearful person , I would've said "No, way!" even after this crazy month of scary things. I went to a conference this past weekend in St. Louis (best Christmas present ever!) and had a wake-up call to how much of my life is driven by fear. I picked up a copy of Joyce Meyer's new book, "Living Courageously", which covers the topic. I'm only about halfway through it, but I really love it! I'm currently meditating on Psalm 56:3 (pg.33): "What time I am afraid, I will have confidence in and put my trust and reliance in You." After all, who knows when the next bug will strike?

           Because I didn't want to keep this book all to myself, I picked up an extra copy to give away too...so if you'd fess up to one fear in the comments below,  you will be entered in the drawing (which an unsuspecting child of mine will randomly draw). The drawing will take place next Friday morning (the 10th),  and I'll announce it in the comments below. I also decided to give up linking these blog posts to my Facebook account.  It's only really showing it to two or three people anyway (it's weird how they determine who to show what); so if you were encouraged (or know someone who needs some lice sympathy) and want to share this,  feel free. I won't stop you. I might even "like" it.

The Dirt on My Window

          There are prints all over my windows,  and I'm having a hard time bringing myself to clean them. These are not the sweet little greasy handprints that I am used to. They are the wet nose prints of curiosity that were usually accompanied by a whine or two. It used to drive me nuts and was one thing I always liked to clean before company came over. Lately, erasing them has felt like I'm erasing a part of my life. Harley (our beloved Weimeraner, not to be confused with my dad) died at the end of August. I've already vacuumed and laundered our throw rugs, but his nose smears have remained.
             When a friend of mine recently posted a picture of her deceased father hugging her, it reminded me of a long forgotten memory.  I remember people asking me how I was doing after my dad died (when I was 13 years old), and I would always tell them how much I missed his hugs. I had totally forgotten about that, and I was flooded with a mixture of guilt and sadness...not just because of that loss, but that I had forgotten that.
           I realize now that fear of losing the great memories of our dog are trying to keep me frozen in disgustingness (or to be more precise, snot on my window). Well, this month has been all about realizing that fear is dominating my life and my decisions (read "The Louse-y Month..." post for more and a chance to win Joyce Meyer's newest book). It's a good day to clean, so here are a few things that I learned that I hope I'll never forget:

               1)There was look of utter panic and shakes at the mention of the word "bath" (and this time I'm not referring to my pre-teen Mary). I never realized it that a 90 lb. dog would take on a Fed-ex truck, driver and all his packages...and still be petrified of a bath. Harley had to be enticed to the edge of the tub with his favorite treats, while someone would "heave-ho" his rear end into the tub with warm water waiting.

            2) I had the dawning realization that all that "sand" in the bottom of his kennel that we first brought home with him was just dirt ground to bloody pulp from a hundred pounds of dog flesh tromping and circling in the kennel before laying down. I realized my feet would basically never feel a clean floor again since he couldn't take his shoes off when he came in. I also mourned the loss of once clean white stuffed animals that were quickly dinged by being drug across the floor.

              3) I never realized that having a dog meant never sleeping in again...EVER. Dogs are even more ridiculously schedule dependant than babies. Babies would occasionally sleep in until 8am, but the pathetic whimpering that started at 7:30am rarely gave a morning's peace. The girls learned to sleep through it, but I did not. I even got an occasional wet nose wake-up. Oh, the horror! He also shook his ears out so much in the middle of the night that I was glad he never slept in our bedroom.

          4) Dogs are the gateway pet. Once you take on that much responsibility, what's another eight cats, or twenty-four chickens, or fifteen ducks,  or  two turtles (and turkeys and guineas,  and lizards)...need I go on?

          4) Listening to your husband and getting a dog (even when you are not a dog lover) can be a  really good thing. Yes, you can get a winner of a dog off of Craig's list. Harley was amazingly obedient (especially if food was involved,  and especially if that food was hot dogs). I never knew a baby to love a dog the way our Gracie did. She was only 11 months old when we brought home our 87 lb. Weimeraner dog, but she found his head was the perfect height to walk under. His ears dangled down, and she exclaimed "tick-a, tick-a" when she felt them on her head. Her first word besides "Mama" and "Dada" was "Ar-ley". She stills tears up just mention his name. He also turned me into a dog-lover. That last moan of knowing when we went to say "Goodbye" to him at the vets office said volumes. It said, "I love you!" and "I'm hurting" and "I'm so glad to see you again" and "It's Ok" all at once. I've never heard quite so much in one me-ow, and I've loved and said goodbye to a lot of cats. 

          The nasal drips are getting erased, but the marks on our hearts will be there forever. The week that we waited to see how much he could recover from his stroke and seizures while staying at the animal clinic was full of nightly dreams that Half-pint would share each morning. Each one was different, but the same in that he ran away from the vet to come see us each time. They were beautiful.  He even had puppies in one of them (though that was physically impossible due to surgery and that he was a boy dog). In my mind, I can still see him running as fast as the day we brought him home. His ears are flapping in the wind, and his muscles are flexing easily as he races a rabbit and wins. There is no paralysis. There is no knowing groan.  There is a happy spring in his step when he bounds over for a pat on his head and a victorious "Good Boy!" from my lips. 

He was the best dog ever.

Fixing What Is Broken

          On the first day of school in our neck of the woods,  we rushed around to get 24 chickens, 8 cats, 5 ducks (plus 11 ducklings), 3 turkeys , 2 guinea fowl, and 1 dog their food and water. It takes everyone's cooperation to get it all done and be on time. It's next to impossible in a family of seven to be punctual when you're changing diapers, changing clothes,  fixing hair, and feeding little ones...all the while making lunches and praying to find the missing shoe (that the baby decided was a perfect car the night before). Of course,  we weren't actually headed to school. We start that this week.  We were headed to rheumatology...not for Grandma,  but for my 10 year old, Half-pint. She injured her knee in a martial arts warm-up July 7th, describing the sensation as her "knee-cap popping". She had swelling in her knee that warranted a trip both to the chiropractor and the pediatrician (and eventually sports medicine when the swelling was still there a week later). 
          Just in case you are faced with the choice, I wouldn't recommend scheduling an appointment with sports medicine the morning of your child's birthday party for 18 of her closest friends if you haven't even prepared the dessert. I had no idea that Half-pint would visualize the physician removing a "box" of fluid from her body (when in fact he was merely removing maybe an ounce of bursa fluid for lab work) or that this would result in a full-blown panic attack.  A couple of milligrams of versed later, she was calmly talking about the ceiling dropping on our heads, and we were able to complete her exam without putting her completely out. We did find out that nothing bacterial was causing the swelling (and the lack of blood indicated it wasn't a trauma issue).
          Our rheumatology appointment on the 13th of August gave us no answers. We were asked to come back in a month when the lab work done by sports medicine could be repeated to give a firm diagnosis of juvenile rheumatoid arthritis. Given my daughter's love of nature and tick exposure, we'll also test for Lyme disease at that time. No one but me (and my four tag along kids) seemed distressed that I would be making another crazy round-up for an hour long drive to the doctor in a month. I was hoping for an answer, not another delay. I hate not being able to fix something.
         Shortly after we moved last year, I broke a necklace I had made. It didn't worry me or bother me at all. Since I had made it, I knew exactly how to fix it and what I would need to make it whole again. It actually sat on my bookshelf along with several other projects until a few weeks ago when I really wanted to wear it. As I was putting it together, I wished everything could be fixed so easily...like the problem with Half-pint's knee. It's hard to wait for answers. Then I had the thought: our Creator knows exactly how and what He needs to make us whole because He made us.
          I wish the problems at the Ingalls farm was just Half-pint's knee, but every week brings a new challenge...like our first chicken being lost to a hawk this week, our dog being incapacitated by a stroke and seizure last week, or my phone (that contained the downloaded background track) being broken by Mr. Blue Eyes just 36 hours before Mary's audition...it never ends. Each day I call, "In the morning,  O Lord, you hear my voice, in the morning I lay out my requests before you and wait in expectation." (Psalms 5:3)
           When I "recreated" my necklace,  I broke a bead and had to change my original design. I have to say that I think it's more interesting and more beautiful than before. May each time of brokenness in our lives cause the Creator to make us more interesting and more beautiful too.