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.