Family of Four

I wanted to show you our Christmas stockings. More than anything, this post is for the handful of women I know of who read this, and who have also lost children. I want you to see that if you want to clearly include your children, you won't be the only one.

I have no respect for the social pressure we're under to not count them. But know that you, and your children, I have deep regard for.

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Something I heard out of David this week: "Of all the things I ever questioned about myself, the ability to raise kids was not one of them." Rock on, Husband. Rock on.

Available

I've decided to copy and paste a story for you that I told a friend this week. It's personal, but I want you to know this side of God is full-scale available. Though it will sound subjective, it only is to those who've never experienced it. If you're in that group, I'm posting this for you.

It took place Friday night, 8 days ago...

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This past Friday night, our Friday night group met at our current building for the last time. It was a church building we just rented each week. After group, we all wanted to just spend some time in the building - a sentimental thing ya know.

So I left the room we met in, and went to the sanctuary. It's one of the fancy type with stained glass, and a high ceiling. It seats about 200. All the lights were off - only some light glowed through the stained glass.

I'd already been talking to God before walking in, and I slowly made my way to the front, still whispering. I sat down, wrapped in a blanket, on the front bench, and was crying within a minute.

More than anything, looking back over the last year, I was crying for my babies. I was doing the lip-splitting crying, ya know? As if I'd just found out they were gone. And I cried out of deep gratitude that God, in February, had saved my life. And I cried with the realization that he'd saved *their* lives too.

But the REAL part of this story is how real God was during it. Would you believe, as I pitched forward, tears streaming, and absolutely in anguish, it felt *good*? I could feel him that much. He was as real as I was. I wasn't remotely crying alone in the dark. It was more like God had pulled me into his lap, and turned off the lights, so I could cry. Absolutely amazing - I can't even describe it.

Ya know how you can have peace, but you can also have *God's* peace - a different definition of it - a gift of the Spirit. Girl, I was covered in it. I could clearly feel him on me, and loving me.

I haven't grieved like that for months, but it's a beautiful feel-good memory. How cool is that! God's sweet like I've never known sweet before.

Colorado

Names are on blankets. 8 hours total. The photo is one of them.
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The other pictures are of the building where we've had our Friday night group up till now (since February when we first went). The table is where we had the lesson part. The ceiling is what I call "the soaking view." We'd usually all sprawl out on the floor to listen to worship music at the end. It seems that most people close their eyes, but I kinda like the ceiling. (We're meeting at the same place we have Sunday morning now.)
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All Christmas cards are either sent, or have addressed envelopes. Score.
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We went to get the oil changed tonight. I do not know if it was a God thought, but twice I thought I should get my coat out of the back seat, and didn't. We get out. I shut my door. David shuts his door. And I immediately hear one of the employees say to him, "You locked your keys in the car?" I spin around, and realize my set of keys, though unusual, is in my coat pocket. In the car. Great.

So the car's running in the middle of the lot. Two of the guys tried to open it. One locksmith, 30 minutes, and $55 later, we left. Without the oil change - since they'd closed in the meantime. The guys were so nice though, there was a pleasant side to it.
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Oh, and I decided to tell David that what I want for Christmas is to get the cardboard shelving out. of. my. KITCHEN. Serious shelving here I come. Not that it's pink or sparkly or nostalgic - but I am a kitchen type of girl.
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I have officially shoveled snow for the first time. Though the center of our parking lot is plowed into the windows of the ground-level apartments, our tires still are fully trapped. It's unbelievable. Like living in a vat of brown sugar.
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We're leaving for Colorado on Wednesday and coming back Sunday. Excuse the soon-to-be-missed blog post.

We had a good discussion tonight:
"How duh Cahluhrahduhns say 'Cahluhrahduh?'"
"CahluhRADO." (like the "a" in "cat")
"CahluhrahDO."
"CahluhRADO."
"Cahluh-rAdO... That sounds ridiculous! It feels weird in my mouth! It's gross. That's not how anybody talks... Cahluh-rAdO. No, it's CahluhRAHDUH. Just like it's always been. It's been 'Cahluhrahduh' ever since I learned how to say 'Cahluhrahduh.'"
(David's laughing now.) "CahluhRADO."
"Grew up in Cahluhrahduh and ya don't even know how to say it."

Donch y'all worry. Ahm workin' on 'im.

Rottened

I have a tradition I keep faithfully. I talk in my half-asleep every night.

So last night, half asleep, trying to explain to David why I was so frustrated, it went something like this:

"I'm just frustrated... cause I have these really great times with God... and then I go a while between them, where I just get to have 'above average' instead of 'really great' the whole time... and... and... He's spoiled me rotten! (giggling)... He rottened me... (long pause)... I smell like stinky cheese (giggling)... (long pause)... YOU smell like slobber."

And that's when David laughed hard enough to wake me up. Thus I remember this ridiculousness. Not all bad.

Christmas Lights

Last night, we got our plastic and metal Christmas tree up - lush thing that it is. We pulled out our 2 strings of lights and plugged them in to check them. Both black. Niiice. Commence David playing with their teeny fuses. No luck. He walks to the kitchen, string of lights in hand, where I hear him have the following conversation with himself:

"Computer, Christmas lights status."
"Christmas lights non-functional."
"Christmas lights non-functional?! But we'll run out of air in TWO DAYS!"

To Target we shall go. Hopefully before we run out of air.
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We got the Christmas newsletter written last night. Part of today's job is to get all the envelopes addressed that I have addresses for, and stuff them.
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I'm also supposed to be sewing our Friday night leaders' names onto some blankets for them today. I gotta get movin'.

Kathryn and her Men

I'm behind on posting, but busy being wifely. I'll have to go bullet point:

• Bethany (yes, THE Bethany) is coming for New Year's. We'll pick her up the 31st, stay up waaay too late eating junk and talking, then take her to her parents' house on the 1st. Or maybe she'll just move in and we'll keep her.
• Last weekend was tiiight. We had good worship time every day Thursday night through Sunday night. We had a guest worship leader come in, who turned into a friend and all-around nice chick - plus husband, plus guy friend, plus guy friend, plus son, plus son. Ya know, a year ago, I defined "worship" as "reverant" and "pretty." Gimme another year - I might use "moshpit."
• I've been listening to her cd for 4 days now. I woke up "hearing" it this morning.
• I'm able to send out Christmas cards this year!!! Though I've never liked it before, I'm doing it this year with excitement - just for the joy of being capable! (Are y'all getting tired of me mentioning that I'm grateful for this tidbit? Too bad!)
• We're down to one guppy - one of the 3 daughters.
• Our Friday night leaders gave me a pink blanket! Just randomly. Wack story here, but I wrapped it around me and "accidentally" learned how to dance. I don't have time now, but ask if you're amused and curious.
• I tried to read Revelation and had to put it down in the first chapter at the description of Jesus. I could SO easily imagine turning around and seeing that that I was kinda shaken. So ya know what? Now I REALLY want to go read it. I never dreamed I'd have to summon the courage to read my Bible. Sheesh.
• I realized that our whole family has never seen the urn that Judah's ashes (Our ashes? How do you say that?) are in. They're on Flickr.
  

"A Different Christmas Poem"

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,

I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.

My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,

My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.

Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,

Transforming the yard to a winter delight.

The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,

Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.

My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,

Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.

In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,

So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,

But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.

Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know, Then the

sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.

My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,

And I crept to the door just to see who was near.

Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,

A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.

A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,

Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.

Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,

Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.

"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,

"Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!

Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,

You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"

For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,

Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts..

To the window that danced with a warm fire's light

Then he sighed and he said "Its really all right,

I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night.

It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,

That separates you from the darkest of times.

No one had to ask or beg or implore me,

I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.

My Gramps died at Pearl on a day in December."

Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas Gram always remembers."

"My dad stood his watch in the jungles of ' Nam ',

And now it is my turn and so, here I am.

I've not seen my own son in more than a while,

But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile."

Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,

The red, white, and blue... an American flag.

"I can live through the cold and the being alone,

Away from my family, my house and my home.

"I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,

I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.

I can carry the weight of killing another,

Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..

"Who stand at the front agains t any and all,

To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall.

So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,

Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."

"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,

"Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?

It seems all too little for all that you've done,

For being away from your wife and your son."

Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,

"Just tell us you love us, and never forget.

To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone,

To stand your own watch, no matter how long.

For when we come home, either standing or dead,

To know you remember we fought and we bled.

Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,

That we mattered to you as you mattered to us."

My Lyme Doc

Coherence may not be happening here. Work with me.

So that their names won't show up here when they're Google searched, the man you know as my Lyme doctor is "Doc 1." We also have "Doc 2."

We went to Doc 1's yesterday. I signed in and sat down with D. The receptionist then asked me to fill out a few papers on a clip board. I took it and sat down, only to see that it was paperwork for a new doc, Doc 2, who had started working with my Lyme doc. So I took it back and pointed out that I was here for Doc 1 instead. No big deal, right?

"Oh. Doc 1 passed away. I'm sorry. Is this the first you heard?"
*mouth-open stare*
"He had a heart attack about 7 weeks ago. We sent the info to everyone, but some of the papers came back to us."
"Uhhh. So I'm seeing [hold up clipboard]?"
"Yeah. I'm sorry you didn't know..."
*head nod* "Thank you."

Suddenly needing to be ready to meet and work with a new doctor, I held off the crying part until we drove away 5 hours later. But I skipped a lot of the paperwork I was supposed to be filling out, given that I couldn't even fill out the part about when my birthday is.

So now we have Doc 2. He's extremely nice, also a Lyme specialist. He'd gone over my charts the previous day and was totally ready. We got the Lyme part taken care of, much like we normally would with Doc 1. But he also had a few suggestions as to what might play into my having a baby - so we added a lot of blood tests. And we'll go back sooner than usual - 5 weeks this time - so we can go over all those results.

I had a bit of trouble with the IV. Typically, I get one stick. Blood gets drawn from there, then the IV goes into it. But with all we drew yesterday, my blood clotted before we had it all. So we went with the other arm, which once again clotted. My hand had nothing plump, so we went back to the original arm, in a different vein. Got it done though. Got a Vitamin C IV yesterday.

Vit C pulls down your blood sugar, so D went to Wendy's and helped me eat one-handed during this. In fact, it was in the 50's when we left and I felt bad until I was asleep.

As usual, I had good conversations with the other Lymies - all of us sitting in recliners, getting our various IV's. One, in fact, lives in the next burb over, where D's office is. We exchanged contact info.

(Sidenote, but with all of us lasso'd to our recliners, D runs around opening drink bottles, passing out chocolate-covered nuts, and taking Wendy's orders. He's well-liked.)

So all that, and a $500 bag of pills, and we're driving home. And finally can cry. We'd had a relationship with Doc 1 for well over a year. Nice man. Always laughing about my 2-mile list of questions. Jovial. Last time we were there, he sat in one of the empty recliners talking to us for a while.

We were surprised, months ago, when an appointment was cancelled at the last moment. Doc 1 had needed surgery to work on a heart problem - a birth defect of some sort. But we were relieved at the re-scheduled appointment to hear him say he was feeling a lot better. Apparently it was just a few days after we saw him last that he had a heart attack. He was somewhere near his late 50's.

Being a doctor is a good thing to begin with, but to specialize in Lyme is to be a pioneer. Professionally, it comes with a lot of risk - political things. And you can't just go off the teachings of others. With Lyme, the doctors are still in the middle of figuring it out. Similar to treating cancer I guess. How ironic to spend your career saving lives, only to die young.

There's a lot of us that'll miss him.

Back from TX

Back from my parents'. Got a lot of time to talk to both of 'em. Showed 'em my pink sparkles and J's t-shirt. Got to go to church with them Sunday morning and hug a bunch of my friends.

But instead of writing out the story, I need to be getting ready for the Lyme doc - which is tomorrow. I still need to pack, make lists of how many pills I still have, and go over the last 2 months' of symptoms.

We're not making it an overnight trip this time. We'll leave about 8 and get back in time for Refresh, which starts at 7:30. (It's that monthly worship-till-ya-drop time.)

The tree up there is the one in the Galleria. The orange cat is Dolly, and the black one's Abigail.

I'll try to write something substantial next week.