Habits and Routines

It's been interesting watching events of the last few days unfold. We've known for days that there was a good probability of atypically bad weather coming for our area.  Let's face it, we're in the south. We do not cope with freezing rain and sleet with the same blasé attitude our neighbors to the north seem to have. We tend to be poorly prepared to manage without electricity or a frequent trip to the grocery.

 

I've got to admit I am a creature of habit. Most of us are to some extent or another. We get up in the morning in a particular way. We follow a particular path through our days. It may vary some by day but essentially we are very predictable. We have our habits, our routines, our way of doing things and we don't really like to deviate from that.

Have you ever noticed, when your week has been disrupted by a holiday or a snow day, that it takes a day or two to reorient yourself in time? You've broken your routine and been forced to modify your habits. 

 

Habits and routines are powerful tools. Most that we use are just ways we've found to do everyday activities in ways that work for us. They're not right. They're not wrong. They're just our way. What would happen if we changed our habits so that they are truly to our advantage? What if we stopped habits that were harmful and replaced them with helpful habits?

Replace compulsive spending with a little compulsive saving. Replace grabbing a quick, sugar laden snack with something healthier. Replace 30 minutes spent sitting still, unwinding with 30 minutes of exercise. Replace one habit at a time, one week at a time, one old routine with a new one; gradually improving along the way. 

Sick of It

This has been a quiet week for our household. Two of my children were sick most of the week. Fortunately, due to a mid-week holiday, it was the least scheduled week of the month. Wednesday night Scout meetings were canceled. There were no Thursday  or Friday afternoon meetings. It was blessedly quiet week all the way to the end.

 

That wasn't the case for many folks. A few hardy souls were lining up outside favored stores by Wednesday evening waiting for bargain shopping that would be coming up soon. Newspapers, TV, and radio all oozed a constant flow of information on where the best bargains would be found on Black Friday.

 

Why do I hear "Black Friday" but think "Black Plague?" It could be because the whole general concept disgusts me.  Folks are in such a hurry to get a deal that the meaning of the Thanksgiving holiday and the upcoming Christmas holiday are totally forgotten.  No, let me correct that. The meaning of the holidays is ignored. It's bad enough that the Thanksgiving feast has turned from a special meal for which we are thankful into a culinary orgy of gluttony. Or, since it's not easily commercialized, the Thanksgiving gathering is reduced to nothing more than a meal with a archaic theme. Follow that closely with a grab-fest of greed induced shopping and I find the whole weekend nauseating.

 

I'm stunned. Really? People fighting over televisions and towels because they're on sale? A plague on us indeed if this is what our affluent society has come to! 

Wintering Over

I just brought my scrawny, little stevia plant into the house for the winter. This was the neglected plant, the little sibling to a larger version of the same herb. Stevia is a plant that wants to be outdoors in the warm sunshine in warmer temperate and sub-tropical regions. Here, I'm just hoping to keep it alive all year. At the first sign of sub-freezing weather, I brought it into my garage. The poor little plant was not happy. It's cold and dark in the garage.  It's the place I bring some of my plants to wait out the winter while they cling to life. By bringing it into the house, I'm hoping I'm giving it a better chance at survival. I can give it more light, both natural and artificial.  I can keep it's soil moist. I can give it what it needs to grow and thrive again in the spring.

 

As I look at this little plant, I'm reminded of the past year. There have been seasons of struggle and seasons of bloom for me. I'm trying to find the time to remember to nourish myself physically, mentally and spiritually so I'll have the strength to flourish and bloom in season.

 

Maybe that's what wintering over is all about. Shorter days and longer evenings tend to force a slower pace of life. It's a time for plants and people to rest and regroup.  It's a good time to reassess priorities and revamp plans. We're approaching the holiday season with Thanksgiving Day this week. Perhaps, taking time to start with a reflection on the blessings of this year will help to put all the rest in proper perspective.

Seeds of Discouragement

I'd promised myself that I wouldn't pay any attention to my doctor saying I might never get my flexibility back and that I might always need help of some sort in tying my shoe or putting on socks. I told myself I could just put that thought out of my mind and wait to see what happened. I was wrong.

That little negative thought has been swimming in the back of my head all week. Although I've worked to ignore it and laugh off the early warning of possibly impending limitations, it was still there. It left me feeling like, maybe, I wasn't really progressing. Maybe, it was all in my imagination.  Maybe, pushing myself to stretch until it hurt a bit was wasted effort.

I've tested the reality so there's no question. Four weeks ago, I could walk about a half mile in 25 minutes.  This week I was consistently walking 1.5 miles in 30 minutes and I've stopped using the hiking pole for reassurance. Four weeks ago I could not reach my left foot at all. Now, If I work it just right, I can get a sock on without using my assistance device. I can't always do it but I can some of the time.  Four weeks ago I couldn't sit on a 18 inch tall stool and raise myself up with just my left leg. I could do it at 20 inches, but not 18. I can do that today.  Four weeks ago, I couldn't step up with my left leg onto the top of a 12 inch tall step.  Today I can step up on a 14 inch tall step.

My progress may be in fractions of an inch but it IS progress. A quarter of an inch gained this week, a couple of degrees more bend over the next week or two. That's all I ask. It is progress, even if it's slow progress. I know there will be times when I don't seem to be getting better. I will not let someone stop me from trying.

The power of a negative suggestion, a criticism, or a negative thought are amazing. Keep it positive because the negative will do nothing but hold you back and tear you down.

Status Report

Tomorrow will mark the 84th day since my hip replacement surgery. Things seem to be going very well. I've not been quite as good as I intended at doing the daily physical therapy exercises as I originally planned. It's easy to forget to do that.

 

I had my 12 week follow-up appointment with the surgeon today.  He was pleased with my progress. He said the bone grafts he did are healing well. The prosthesis appears to be well seated and bonding to my bone. I did manage to leave him stammering with one question. I wanted a concrete idea of what the outer limits of my recovery might be.  I showed him a picture of a climbing wall at our local Boy Scout Camp and asked if there was any reason I might not be able to eventually climb it. He was shocked by my question. It seems no one has ever asked him that.  He was kind but he really advised against the climbing wall. O.k. I'll find something with less risk of twisting limbs into odd positions while bearing your weight precariously on randomly placed knobs.  The list of things I can do is still much longer than the list of things I can't or shouldn't do.

I'm finding ways to work exercise in that is specifically designed to help strengthen my hip and increase my flexibility. I keep the list of physical therapy exercises where I can see them. I try to do a few every day at some point in the day. I walk between 1 and 2 miles 3 or 4 days per week. That's done wonders for helping me regain a natural stride. I'd limped for 7 or 8 years.  I don't limp any more!  I'm also back to exercising at a gym 3 days per week.  Each week, almost each day I go, I get to try some movement or exercise that wasn't possible before.

 

My doctor indicated, and I agree, that continuing exercise and stretching are going to be important to my ongoing improvement.  I still need to work on further stretching and strengthening the muscles in my hip. It's possible that I may never regain the full range of motion.  I'm not going to think about that.  I don't want to limit myself while I'm still working toward maximum recovery. For now my focus is on making my best efforts a little better each time I try.

Stuck in a Rut

Sometimes I get a bright idea to do some quick little job by myself instead of asking for help. This past June I needed to pick up some wheat straw to mulch my garden. It was a simple task. It would give me a chance to see if I could use our manual transmission truck to run a longer errand.  I'd begun to have problems being able to use my left leg to depress the clutch enough to change gears. Holding the clutch in a stop lights was becoming very painful some days.

I climbed into the truck and scooted across town to the co-op for some bales of straw. I hadn't gotten far before I was sure a longer drive was out of the question. This was just going to have to be a quick errand. I got to the co-op and back without incident. I decided to drive through the yard to the garden to dump the bales out of the truck beside the garden.  I'd walked around to check to see if the ground was firm.  It had rained a few days earlier but everything seemed o.k.

 

Well, I didn't allow for the fact that the truck would have to pass further from the end of the house than I walked. Just a few feet over from where I walked, the ground was so soft that you sank in a bit as you walked. I didn't know that. You can imagine what might happen to a truck weighing a several thousand pounds. The truck bogged down 30 feet from the garden.  Nothing I could do would make it move forward or backward. It's a two-wheel drive truck so I couldn't get the extra traction I needed. I was well and thoroughly stuck.  Some days, you just have to walk away and not look back. Our truck sat there for a couple of days until a friend pulled the truck out of the rut with his Jeep. What can I say? The right tool made the job look easy.

I need a mental Jeep. I'm stuck in some sort of sticky, muddy, mental muck. There's plenty of things I need to do but few I'm really motivated to do right now. I need a tow rope and a tug to get me past this so I can get back to work.

Expect to be Amazed

I grew up out in the country on a gravel road. It was a big deal for me to watch the county road grader come through and level out the road every year or so. It had to pass by at least twice. Sometimes they'd bring out fresh red gravel.  It left sandy, red grit on the cars until the dust finally settled down. We felt like we got a huge advance when they came through with a layer of coarse asphalt. There was no more bouncing in ruts and popping gravel under the tires. Eventually the road was closed just past our driveway when the county decided the bridge at the base of the hill just wasn't worth fixing again. Now I just tell people I grew up out in the country at the end of a dead end road.

 

We lived less than 10 minutes from my elementary school. It was a red brick and concrete block building. The interior walls were painted with what I was sure was government surplus paint. I remember a gloss green that screamed army surplus. There was a huge lilac bush by the tall front steps. I guess it was tucked in and protected from the summer heat. It was the only lilac I remember seeing as a child and the largest I've ever seen. The school had a softball field, a large playground and an open field we could use to work off pent up energy.

 

The 10 minute trip took 30-60 minutes by school bus. One hundred eighty days of the exact same route twice a day can become boring. Sometimes I would read or work on homework. When I was able to get a window seat I'd often give myself a personal challenge.  I'd look to see if I could find something new along the route.  It required close observation of everyday places, things and, sometimes, people. A freshly painted mailbox, a new car, a dog I'd never seen, or a new lawn ornament all scored a successful day's hunt.

I've tried to continue the challenge as I've grown. It's so easy to just pass through the day without appreciating the little marvels and surprises that are there waiting to be discovered. A couple of weeks ago it was the most amazing little maple leaf lying on a sidewalk. Most trees hadn't started getting their fall color but this maple tree was just beginning to turn and drop it's leaves.  This leaf had bright green veins with colors graduating reds and near purple at the edges. It was a work of art.

What a shame it would have been if I'd just passed that little wonder by without taking a minute to appreciate it. We've been gifted with the most amazing world. Even with our carelessness, we've not blotted out the beauty.  We just need to slow down, open our eyes and expect to be amazed.

Being a Responsible Adult Stinks

Have you noticed that sometimes being a responsible adult stinks? Someone has to earn the money and someone has to pay the bills. Someone has to do at least a few basic chores. You've got to eat so you either cook or pay someone else to cook. Paying someone else will eat through a budget in a hurry but it sure is convenient. Have you got a spouse or significant other? You find expectations to be met in addition to the above list. Throw children into the mix and you get more even responsibilities. They need feeding, educating, sheltering. You're expected to provide them social enrichment opportunities. You get them clothes that fit and they turn around and outgrow them a couple of days later. Then they develop opinions of their own. Who needs that hassle? Add a pet or two and you've got even more trouble, more mouths to feed, more needs to be met. We're expected to educate and enrich their lives as well.

What happened? This is not quite what I imagined as a little girl with fairy tale dreams of what my adulthood would be like. I would always be pretty, neat, clean, patient, loving and so incredibly soft spoken that everyone would adore me. Whoa! Where did that woman go?

So, I'm sitting here, typing the deep, dark secrets of my existence to share with goodness knows who. The table in front of me is crowded with papers, each representing some chore to be done. I'm trying to work out how to be in two places at once tomorrow and how to make three days worth of work fit into just two. What I really want to be doing is sitting with my husband watching a movie or sipping hot chocolate while reading a book. 

It's time to take a deep breath, make some sense of this pile of papers, organize my time for this week and go give my husband a kiss. Sometimes being a responsible adult stinks but mostly, it's worth the effort.

Role Models

I just saw a link on Facebook that caught my eye. A photographer, Jaime Moore, was looking for ideas for creative ways to photograph her young daughter. As she searched for inspiration, she found many resources for dressing up her daughter as a Disney princess. Now I'm sure there were plenty of sweet ideas and Disney princesses each have redeeming qualities. Those qualities, however, tend to be overshadowed by the marketing of princess related merchandise.  It ends up being more about creating an image than  celebrating the quality of the character. 

Ms. Moore was looking for something with a bit more substance. She hit upon the idea of dressing her daughter us as real life, amazing women. She chose Coco Channel, Amelia Earhart, Susan B. Anthony, Helen Keller and Jane Goodall. These are real women with real strengths and real challenges.  The photographs she produced were beautiful and timeless.

See what you think of them. They can be found at: http://www.upworthy.com/see-the-5-kick-ass-women-this-mom-dressed-her-daughter-as-instead-of-a-disney-princess?c=ufb1

Several years ago, I became acquainted with the story of a woman who grew up not too far from where Helen Keller was born in north Alabama. Her name was Te-lah-ney, one of the last members of the Yuchi tribe. Her story; recounted by her great, great grandson, Tom Hendrix; was amazing. Mr. Hendrix is absolutely mesmerizing as he speaks. There are far too few story tellers like him around.

I read his book, If the Legends Fade, that is a compilation of Te-lah-ney's journal. Her story of being orphaned by a group of thugs and fur traders and then being sent away to the Indian Territories in Oklahoma is heartbreaking. Her love of her tribal home and her family's memory gave her the strength to find her way back alone.  

I organized a homeschool field trip with several other families. We called it The Extraordinary Women of North Alabama Field Trip. First, we visited Mr. Hendrix and experienced the sacred site he has built in memory of his ancestors. Afterward, we went to Ivy Green, Helen Keller's home. I can't really explain it except to say that it was an uplifting experience.  These two women had both overcome tremendous adversity. They both left amazing legacies for their families and deep roots in the Alabama soil.

 

Sometimes, when I'm a little down or discouraged, I remember that trip. Those women are the kind of role models I'd prefer for my own daughter.

 

For more information about Te-lah-ney and Mr. Hendrix see: http://ifthelegendsfade.com/

In Daddy's Shadow

I'm a Daddy's girl.  As a young girl, I loved spending time outdoors with my father as he worked. I was so proud when he began to trust me to run to the house or the shed to get things for him.  Butter bean seeds?  Yep, I knew just where they were. I'd run to the cabinet in the garage for them. The oil can for the tiller? I'd run to the shed to get the can. A hoe, rake, the old tea kettle full of water? Off I'd go and a dead run.

 

When he didn't need me or it wasn't safe for me to be around, I had a small space in the shed.  The shed was really a small pole barn with a smoke house, tool storage room, central hall for large equipment, a brooder house, hen house and feed storage area.  The tool storage room was an open bay with hoes, rakes, shovels and all sorts of long handled tools affixed to the walls with bent nails for hooks. The rest of the space was magically turned into a little girl's play house by a few additions. There was my sister's old wagon full of sand. There was a child sized wood table and a couple of little chairs. There was a little cedar doll bed. A couple of shelves held an imaginary household's necessities; dishes, tiny muffin pans, old bowls, etc. After my parents remodeled the house, an old tin medicine cabinet with a mirrored front was hung on one wall. I spent many hours in that little room making damp sand pies and muffins to serve to imaginary guests. One summer a male cardinal discovered the mirrored cabinet. The poor bird was sure he had a new, incredibly persistent rival.  He would fling himself at his own reflection for hours. I finally had to keep the mirror covered with a cloth so Mr. Redbird would go back to his normal business.

 

I knew I'd grown up when Dad let me use the riding lawn mower.  Mowing our yard was a very long day's job for one person. I remember that first summer of trying to use the lawn mower. Our mower didn't have the safety switch in the seat mowers have now. That was a good thing since I might have weighed 70 pounds at the time. If I sat on the seat, I couldn't reach the pedals.  I had to stand up to stop or make any adjustments.  At first Dad would back the mower out of the shed for me before sending me off to one of the more open areas of the yard to mow. 

 

One day Dad had to work late. The yard needed mowing badly and it was supposed to rain before he'd be free. I hadn't been mowing long and certainly had never attempted it without him nearby. I'm sure Mom had some serious doubts about me mowing alone but it really needed to get done. We wanted to do something nice for Dad as well. Mom helped me push the mower out of the shed. After some fiddling, we figured out how to start the mower.  Then I hopped on to get started. I'd only moved a few feet when, BAM, I had my first auto accident. We didn't back the mower up far enough for me to get it turned.  I ran into the side of the shed.  I'm sure that did wonders for my mom's confidence.  I got part of the yard mowed that afternoon but explaining the dent on the front of the mower to my dad was painful. He didn't get upset.  I was so thankful.

I've thought about those days a lot over the past few weeks when I was borrowing Daddy's walker. I'd remember watching his hands as he showed me how to plant different seeds. He showed me how to use the grease gun on the lawn mower and tiller. He taught me how to use a hoe to thin seedlings in the garden. I remember his hands giving me a gourd of cold water fresh from the well while we took a break. I remember sitting on the ice cream churn as he cranked it to make a treat for the family. 

These past couple of days, I've been working to learn to make a new recipe that starts with meringue.  My dad had the best talent for whipping meringue. He had an old meringue whip that looked like a big spoon with chicken wire for the bowl. Oh, my goodness, he made it look so easy.  

 

So many things I do remind me of my dad and the things he taught me. I hope I can continue to mirror my Dad and the things he taught. I hope I can be a mirror of his love, loyalty, patience, and steadfastness. I'll be privileged if I can remain in his shadow.

Winning

I think I've mentioned before that I'm an Olympics fan. The first Olympics I really remember watching was the 1968 Summer Olympics in Mexico City. I was a Mark Spitz fan. If it had been possible for my 7 year old mind to push him through the water faster, I'm sure he would have felt the boost. It was a great thing watching him swim. It's too bad I'd forgotten an even bigger story from that Olympics. It's the story of John Stephen Akhwari, the man who finished dead last in the marathon.   

John was a world renowned distance runner from Tanzania. At about the half way point of the 42 kilometer marathon, he and some other runners were jostling for position.  He fell injuring his knee pretty badly as well as his shoulder. He was 21 kilometer from the finish of the race. By all accounts, he should have stopped. Eighteen other runners from the field didn't finish. There would have been no shame in failing to finish.  John Stephen Akhwari did not stop. He hobbled, limped and walked the rest of the way. He finished the race a full hour behind the gold medalist. There were only a few people and a single film crew left in the stadium to acknowledge his courage. When asked why he didn't stop after his fall he replied, "My country did not send me 10,000 miles just to start the race; they sent me to finish the race."

I've been blessed with the opportunity to live at an amazing time in history. So many things are happening. Amazing, wonderful things. Challenging, frightening things. Sometimes it's hard. Sometimes the challenges crush you to the ground. It's those times when you really need to find that bit of faith and hope inside.You have to pick yourself up and go on and finish the race you've begun with all the strength and courage you can muster.

I don't know what's in my future. I don't know what joys or challenges lie ahead. I do know that I am here to finish this race.

Slow and Steady

I used to love sitting with my great-grandmother as she read to me.  If I was very good and she had a few free minutes in her busy day she'd reach up high in her linen closet and get out an old school book that belonged to her son.  It was obviously a very treasured volume.  It was a rare day that I was allowed to touch it.  The book had several of Aesop's fables in it.  I loved those stories.  I could imagine the dog with a big bone in it's mouth, a raucous crow carrying on a conversation or a clever snake fooling a frog into becoming an easy snack.  

One of my favorite stories was the Tortoise and the Hare.  It didn't make sense to me. Let's face it, the Hare had every advantage.  He was a sleek running machine.  He was born for speed and agility.  The Tortoise, well, there wasn't much sleek about him.  He had that chunky, heavy shell. When tortoises are at a dead run, they're slow.  Was the Hare really so ignorant and lazy that he didn't just run the race and THEN go eat lunch, take a nap and do whatever else he wanted to do with the rest of the day?  But no, every time my great-grandmother read the story, the silly hare played the same silly, cocksure game and lost the race.  

What did the Tortoise have that the Hare didn't?  He had determination and tenacity. His goal wasn't necessarily to win the race as much as it was to finish the race.  That was something the Hare never really understood. He KNEW he could win the race but he didn't decide it was important enough to put in the effort to finish.

I'm learning a lot more about that Tortoise's way of thinking lately.  I can't go at the frenetic, Hare's pace I'm accustomed to going.  I'm learning that while the human body is healing, it uses up a tremendous amount of energy.  It's forcing me to think more like the Tortoise.  There are still lot's of things that need to be done.  I'm having to learn to prioritize to conserve my energy for the most important of the important things.  There are things that are important to me that I'm having to neglect or delay.  There are meetings I should probably attend and chores I should certainly do.  They will have to wait. Sometimes I can ask for help.  Sometimes I just have to decide that the world won't come to a stop just because I can't get something done.

I'm going for determination and tenacity.  I'm going to keep working, a little bit at a time, a little bit every day, to improve my flexibility.  I'm going to do my assigned exercises so I can regain confidence in my ability to walk and move without pain and safely. I'm doing what I have to do to become stronger. It may take me a while but I WILL finish this race.

Get Out and Do Something!

It's been 12 days since I last wrote.  It's been challenging and rewarding.  Gosh, that's such a cliché but it's true.  This past August 20 I underwent total hip replacement surgery on one side.  The first couple of days, no, really the first 4 days were pretty rough.  It's been getting gradually better each day since.  After I first got home on the 3rd day after surgery, I was pretty much confined to a recliner in the middle of our living room.  I could get up with a lot of effort and very close supervision for a short walk to the restroom and that was just about it.  

Now, I'm sure there are those of you who have recliners that you absolutely love.  I'm sure your's is the most comfy chair in the house.  Well, when I'm finally done with this re-cooperation I am inclined to find a way to personally drag this baby in the back yard and burn it! I can do it. I may have to take a pry bar to it, but I can do it. Granted, it has served me well when I wasn't able to climb into my bed those first few days.  And, granted, with proper enhancements of additional pillows (5 at the moment)  it is reasonably comfortable for a few hours.  However, being mostly confined to it during the daylight hours for the past 8 days has left me with a longing for something a bit more caressing with supports arranged properly for those of us with shorter stature. The upholstery is worn at the edges to reveal an entirely different upholstery underneath.  I'm seriously tempted to rip the outer layer off just to see what's underneath. This 12 year old, threadbare chair has got to go.

Trying to work out how to get into our bed has been entertaining.  Now understand, I can't lift my foot forward and up two inches yet.  My bed has a seven inch tall step just to bring the mattress top to my hip level.  I needed another three or four inches of height to bring my body to a level so I could sit on the side of the bed and inch my way across in proper hip replacement precautions fashion.  The whole process would be hilarious if I weren't scared to death of knocking my brand new hip out of joint while I squirm across the mattress.  We ended up finding a shelf we'd fashioned to elevate a computer monitor a few inches.  It was wide enough and sturdy enough for me to stand on.  There was still the problem of me not being able to maneuver safely on a, now stacked,10 inch tall platform only 12 inches wide.

Our solution is that I have to back up to the bed like a semi trailer backing into a loading dock.  I keep waiting to hear a back-up beeper going off.  I can reach back with my good leg and step up on the top of the stack while keeping my hands firmly planted on the handles of my walker.  At this point I was in some danger of loosing my balance and falling over face first into my knitting yarn stash.  The stash is sorted in plastic bins so that's a doubly bad idea.  I've gotten much better at this with practice but I still don't dare try it without supervision.

I get really cool tools to play with.  First, there's the walker. I'm learning to love the walker.  It lets me escape the recliner.  I look for excuses to go get a snack or check out the window for something just to escape the recliner.  I really appreciate my dad letting me borrow his walker.  Another cool tool is the grabber.  It's a light weight, three foot long pistol gripped rod with a trigger that operates a pincher at the end.  I can pick up a receipt laying flat on the floor.  I can snag an impertinent child's cheek if they dare stay within my range while dishing out some good natured teasing.  Another tool is the sock tool.  Imagine how you'd put on socks if you couldn't reach your feet.  The solution is so simple it's amazing.  The tool is a shaped half tube with a couple of ropes attached at one end.  You slip the sock on the tube, toss it on the floor while holding the ropes, stick your foot in and use the ropes to pull the half pipe out.  It's great except that it's a one size fits all (translated to men's size 12 4E) kind of device and I have very small feet.  Several of my little hand-knit-to-fit socks are stretched to the max on this device.  Having someone gently slip my fitted socks on my feet is so much nicer.

This is an ongoing adventure.  I have physical therapy homework that challenges my faith in my ability to recover.  So much has been gained.  So much has been lost.  What I regain is almost entirely up to me.

I picked up a quotable quote today at church.  I think I'll make it my theme for this week.

"If you're sitting around waiting for something to happen, ain't much going to happen. You have to get out and do something."  

- Wallace Donaldson 1 Sept 2013

Learning to Wait

I apologize for failing to write these past two weeks. It's been a busy time and finding the quiet minutes to write have been scarce. 

I was very excited to be able to attend RobotC training with my sons lady week. Tim Freiz of Carnegie Mellon is an excellent teacher. I'm no where near proficient but I'm convinced I can learn and become proficient if I choose. It was amazing to watch my sons work.  They are so different. They have completely different thought processes but they can still enjoy teaming togetherness. 

Today is a big day for me. I'm sitting in a hospital room with an IV.  I've been tagged, labeled and poked. Unless there's an unexpected surprise I will be having hip replacement surgery in a few hours. I'm a little anxious but I am at peace as well. It's been a struggle to get to this point. 

There have been times over the past few weeks when I have felt like a petulant child. I was upset by the delayed surgery. I was upset by what I perceived as an agonizingly slow detour from the path I wanted. I definitely had an "I want it now" attitude. It's been a challenge to accept that God had different timing in mind than I. It's given me an opportunity to grow for which I wasn't looking.  I know I'm going to need to draw on this lesson and expand on it over the coming weeks. It's not something I do well.  

Today, I am giving myself into God's hands. I've worked to prepare for almost exactly 12 months. I've done all I knew to do and learned more along the way. It's been an amazing experience. 

Family Tree

Princes of the Universe

Queen : Theme song for the Highlander movie partial lyrics

 

Here we are, born to be kings,
We're the princes of the universe.

Here we belong, fighting to survive
In a world with the darkest powers.

And here we are, we're the princes of the universe
Here we belong, fighting for survival
We've come to be the rulers of your world.

I am immortal, I have inside me blood of kings.
I have no rival, no man can be my equal
Take me to the future of your world.

Born to be kings, princes of the universe
Fighting and free, got your world in my hand
I'm here for your love and I'll make my stand
We were born to be princes of the universe....

I like this song.  I like the movies. Well, I like most of them.  One gives me nightmares.  I liked the TV series.

 

I think of this song sometimes when I'm thinking about my ancestors.  I've been amazed and humbled as I've learned about the men and women from whom I'm descended. They're a mixed lot of folks. Rich and poor. Common and, if the tree is correct, royal. There are family scandals and national heroes. It's the women who amaze me most. Many were living out in the countryside, wives of farmers. Some buried more children than they raised to adulthood. Some, like my grandmother, died young leaving behind a house full of children. Some, like my great-grandmother, were widowed for many, many years. They stepped up the challenge they were given and earned love and respect that will be remembered for generations.  

 

I am a daughter of men of honor, who sought truth and were willing to die for their beliefs. I can claim farmers, common soldiers, generals, preachers, and kings among my patriarchs.

 

I am a daughter of women of virtue, who lived their lives well in the face of adversity. They were women with backbones of steel and hearts filled with love for their families. They were resourceful in fulfilling their responsibilities.

 

I have a responsibility to these, my ancestors, to embody their most positive qualities and instill those qualities in my own children.

Most of all, I am a daughter of God.

Roadblock Activist

There was an interesting account in the news from my home state of Tennessee a couple of weeks ago.  It was Independence Day weekend and the local police department was running a DUI checkpoint. That in itself is not unusual. I live near a popular DUI checkpoint site. It's on a road with a long stretch of limited access levee on one side and a hill on the other. There's a boat ramp at the base of the hill that allows a convenient place to stage a secondary checkpoint. By the time you see the checkpoint you are committed to going through it.

I've got friends in law enforcement and can understand how this routine stop can go wrong in a hurry. I'm sure the officers are on a level of alert of which most citizens are never aware.  We' just annoyed by the delay and the possibility that we might not be able to lay hands on our driver license or proof of insurance quickly enough.

Imagine approaching this potentially tense situation with the intent of drawing undue attention to oneself. Why in the world would anyone on that?  One young man did just that by complying with the most literal lette of the law instead if the spirit of the law. He intentionally made the police officer uncomfortable. He politely, but with an air of arrogant self-righteousness, refused to comply with requests beyond his interpretation of the letter of the law. 

Ultimately, this young man was detained for a secondary check.  His vehicle was searched by both a dog and officers.  While his passive protest was within his right, it created a waste of valuable resources that were in place to help protect the community from persons who were actually breaking the law.  Could his energy have been used more constructively at another time, in another way? 

Perhaps our roadblock activist felt this was the best way for him to make a statement and bring awareness to what he perceived as a continued erosion of our rights as citizens as stated in the US Constitution and the Bill of Rights. Perhaps he was right, but please, don't abuse law enforcement officers working to protect their community through unnecessary provocation.

Faith Matters

Sometimes, I find it hard to completely trust other people. I'm not talking about the kind of casual trust we tend to have all the time. We trust other drivers on the road, on some level, to be responsible. We trust parents to take care of their children. We trust athletes to do their best in representing their teams. We trust our families to more or less love us as we are. We trust spouses to treat us with love and respect. We trust the mailman to deliver the mail and the weatherman to give his best weather forecast. We trust people in so many different ways every day that we don't even realize we have trust in someone until we lose that trust. When, in some way, our trust is betrayed,  we become reacquainted with that seed of doubt and caution that serves as a layer of protection.

 

I'm interested in a deep-down-to-the-soles-of-your-feet kind of trust. It's more faith than trust. It's the sort of thing that allows you to completely surrender your mind and body into someone else's care and protection. That's not something that's easily earned. It requires a surrender of self that doesn't come naturally to adults. We make mistakes. We betray trusts. It may not be on purpose. It happens. That's not a condemnation. It's human nature. That's why I find it so hard to completely trust, or to have faith in, others.

 

I was in a position where I needed to have faith in someone this week. I had to trust my doctors to complete a medical procedure to the best of their ability. I had to trust their staff to prepare and perform their jobs well and efficiently. I had to have faith that this would happen while I was completely helpless.

 

I remember laying back on the surgical table, made as comfortable as possible with a pillow and blankets.  I closely watched the surgeon's face as I breathed deeply. I saw an expression of concern and concentration. It was compassionate and calming. He and his staff helped me move beyond trust to the calming reassurance of faith. I am grateful.

It's a crazy world we live in. Perhaps, if more of us can find someone in whom we can have faith, we will be able to find an element of peace in our lives that goes beyond what we can see and touch. Faith really does matter.

 

From Google and the Merriam-Webster Dictionary:

Trust: Firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength of someone or something.

1a : assured reliance on the character, ability, strength, or truth of someone or something b : one in which confidence is placed

2 a : dependence on something future or contingent : hope

Faith: Complete trust or confidence in someone or something.

1 a : allegiance to duty or a person : loyalty b (1) : fidelity to one's promises (2) : sincerity of intentions

2 a (1) : belief and trust in and loyalty to God (2) : belief in the traditional doctrines of a religion b (1) : firm belief in something for which there is no proof (2) : complete trust

Punting Practice

I'm not a big football fan.  I'd rather watch soccer any day.  I can, however, appreciate the need for the football punt. Just get the bloomin' ball back in play and get moving. I'm pretty sure I've written about that before but sometimes you have to be taught lessons more than once.

 

I spent last Sunday afternoon sitting in a field writing and thinking.  I was working through some final mental preparation for my upcoming hip replacement surgery.  I left my pastoral bench feeling less anxious and as prepared as I knew how to be.  Then came Tuesday's pre-operation final check-up.  Any time the medical staff says they need to take another look at labs and possibly repeat a test more carefully, it's not a good thing.  I left the appointment with no certainty what the following 24 hours would bring.

 

Those of you who've followed me know I am a person who likes lists, and goals, and plans set in concrete.  The uncertainty left me disoriented.  What do you mean the surgery may be postponed?  It's scheduled.  The rest of my summer is planned around rehab and recovery.  I have a plan and goals in place.  Well, it seems that it's really not a good idea to have hip replacement surgery if another condition exists that leaves you very vulnerable to infections that can affect the implants.  It makes perfect sense but my well planned world crumbled with the news.  Could it be that God wants me to learn to be more flexible?

 

Here I am, waiting again.  Now, I'm waiting to resolve what, hopefully, will be a minor medical detour on my way to total hip replacement.  I don't look forward to this.  The next couple of weeks have the potential of being either extremely painful or they could be a complete bust on the exciting news scale.  More than likely, it will be somewhere in between.

 

Since I'm still in pre-operation status, I'm still not allowed to take the more effective pain medications I've taken for the last several years.  I'm learning from this as well.  I remember my great-grandmother talking about how her legs hurt at night.  I'd watch her rub her thighs and knees with liniment.  Now, I understand more fully.  I catch myself rubbing away little spasms of pain during the day that are like faint echoes of the night pain. I'm learning I need to allow more time to do things. My body moves more slowly than I expect. Projects don't progress at the pace they could just a couple of weeks ago.

 

Have I been impatient when someone needed to take more time walking down an aisle in a store?  Have I been less than sympathetic when someone was dealing with pain?  I hope not. I understand more completely now. 

 

I'm taking my football and punting it into the future.  I don't know exactly how this is going to work out but I do have an eventual goal.  As long as I'm moving toward that goal, even if I'm moving more slowly, it will be all right.

Crutches

It's been another challenging week. I've taken a necessary leap of faith by following doctor's orders.  I've stopped taking my normal medications for pain 7 days ago. I'm thankful the weather has been pleasant and warm. I've always heard that cold or damp weather would make the old joints more sore. I've been tracking the weather for several months and haven't found a clear, reliable correlation between my pain levels and the weather but I still put some faith in years of human experience and tradition.

Nonetheless, I now know for a fact that the pain I've felt hasn't been a product of my over active mind. Yes, I can just imagine calling the surgeon and telling him, "I'm so sorry but apparently I just THOUGHT there was a problem. Let's just cancel this whole surgery idea." That would have been nice.

As the week has gone by, I find myself looking for things to hold onto. It's almost like when I had toddlers along on a shopping trip. I always made sure I knew where the public restrooms were everywhere we went.  Now, I'm looking for hand holds and landing zones for myself. 

Someone at church today mentioned how he'd used crutches in the past.  He was talking about things or actions we come to believe are necessities: coffee to wake up, a beer to unwind, a cigarette to relax, good chocolate, etc. We all tend to have a few but do we really need them?

As I anticipate needing to use real crutches after surgery, I'm prompted to consider if there are some other  crutches I need to throw away. Maybe, just maybe, I need to de-clutter more than my home. It's something to consider. 

Time to Walk the Talk

Do you have days where you just can't find your get-up-and-go?  Moxie, that's what I need a good dose of right now.  Anybody got some to spare?

 

The past few days have been challenging for me.  As the date for my hip replacement surgery grows closer I'm finding that I'm struggling.  This is not at all the kind of feeling I had in anticipation of the birth of my children.  That was energizing in some way.  That was the emotional response I was expecting from myself in the days leading up to my surgery.

 

I suppose I have been equating the two as positive experiences of epic, life changing proportions. The days and weeks leading up to the event are increasingly physically uncomfortable.  There will be a tremendous amount of work to do after I return home. Maybe it's the amazing hormonal changes that come with pregnancy that make the difference.  They help to help equip us women physically and emotionally for the challenge. I don't have that advantage this time around.  The comparison has not turned out to be a good one.

 

I've been working to keep a positive attitude.  I've been talking the talk.  Now, I need to kick myself into action and walk the talk.  A little more spunk with a dash of defiance, that's what I need, because I really am mentally tough enough and physically strong enough to do this.

The Toughest Lessons

My life is about to change.  In all honesty, you can say that every single day you wake up, but, my life is about to change in a different kind of way.  I've made the decision to have hip replacement surgery.  It's been an option for me for at least a year, probably longer. I was just too stubborn to go to the doctor to find out. 

 

All the work I've done over the past several months has been in preparation for this.  I've researched and read.  I've worked hard to lose weight.  I've worked hard to change my diet.  I've worked to replace bad habits with good ones.  I've poured myself into service opportunities and worked to develop a more positive attitude.  I've tried to find something good and positive in the events of each day. I've worked hard to prepare myself physically and mentally. 

 

I delayed going back to see a doctor until circumstances made it clear that it was time.  A few weeks ago I tried to do an easy hike with my older Cub Scouts.  I couldn't finish it.  I had to double back and let them go ahead with other leaders. I didn't even attempt a much shorter hike  just a couple of weeks ago because I knew I would slow them down too much.  This past Friday night, I needed to be able to run to check on someone who'd had a wreck in front of our neighbor's house.  I don't know if you can imagine the frustration I felt when I realized I couldn't run even if someone's life depended on it.  That is my absolute final confirmation that it's time to do something.

 

I have a surgery date for later this month.  I know enough to know there can be delays so I'll not post the date here.  I'm nervous, anxious and excited all at once. I've done the things I should do to prepare.  Now, I've got to learn to have faith and to trust God and my surgeon.  Those may be the hardest lessons of all.

His Own Good Time

It's been a crazy, busy week.  The first few days were spent trying to make sure my 14 year old and his robotics team had all the chances they could to get together and practice for their competition. That involved a lot of driving back and forth from one place to another since the rest of my responsibilities didn't go away at the same time.  He also and a 2 night camp out the end of the week. There was much time spent making and checking lists as well as packing for the two events.

 

This week is my 13 year old son's turn.  His robotics team competes Thursday.  Thankfully, he doesn't have a camp out immediately afterward.  It's a little simpler but still, as a robotics team Mom, I try to be there to offer support and suggestions for all our county teams.

 

Herb and flower seeds I spread in my little garden about 10 days ago are germinating.  I thought I was more careful, but I must have 1000 basil plants.  I'll have to thin them a lot. I'll try to re-pot some of the plants for resale. Perhaps some of those abundant seedlings are from my lettuce leaf basil from last year went to seed.  I bet that's where all those basil babies are coming from.

 

I've been pretty anxious as the end of this week approached.  There was the competition and camp out.  Those were going to require seven hours of driving in one day on my part. The hardest part was that I was expecting a phone call from my doctor's office.  I'm on his waiting list and I knew they were going to start calling people from this list on Friday.

 

I kept my phone with me all day.  I kept checking to see if I'd missed a call.  I made sure it wasn't set to silent more than once. Was the ring volume up? As the hours passed, I was more anxious. I tried to relax. There was no guarantee I'd get a call this week.  It might be a few weeks before the call comes.  "It's no big deal", I kept telling myself.  How long can that waiting list be?  Five o'clock came and went.  I really doubt doctors' offices make routine phone calls after five o'clock.  I stared at the clock as it passed the 17:00 mark. (Yes, military time.  Never miss an opportunity to make your children think harder.)

 

Unspent nervous energy is not a good thing.  I and my youngest went to a very energetic exercise class Saturday morning.  That helped but I've been feeling the anxious energy return.

 

I know I can be a little preachy. I guess it's in my blood.  I'm descended from a line circuit riders and ministers.  I supposed some of that was passed down to me.  Sometimes, when I'm at church and I finally quite my mind and heart from the weeks chaos, I receive answers to questions and concerns I've had.

 

Today, that happened again.

 

Isaiah 55: 8-9

8 ¶For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord.
9 For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.

 

Psalms 27:14

Wait on the Lord: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the Lord.

 

So, I'll wait. I'll try to wait with patience.  I'll continue to work to strengthen myself spiritually and physically. I'll work like it all depends on me. I'll pray like it all depends on God. I'll wait for God's timing and his plan.