The Sound of Silence

I am sitting at home listening to…NOTHING. It has been a while since it has been this quiet at my house and also a while since I’ve had time to sit down at home and write in my blog.

It was a busy week. Lots of shopping and preparations for the grandbabies big “# 1” birthday party and for my daughter’s mission trip.

The birthday party was GREAT! My little redheads loved digging into their cakes and getting it all over them…and even tasting some ever now and then. We had a big crowd of family and friends. Lots of presents, food and swimming. WHEW. It was fun but I’m glad it’s over.

But now the babies are spending a couple of days with their other grandparents and my daughter has gone to Wyoming.

My daughter and 33 others from several churches are headed to Wyoming to help with VBS and do some construction work at a couple of churches. I hope they can be a light for Jesus and plant some seeds.

My daughter has only been gone for 12 hours now but I miss her already. I miss “Mama, where’s my “whatever?””. “Mama, what’s to eat?”. The grandbabies have only been gone about 6 hours and I already miss the pitter patter of little feet, the foreign baby language, the giggles, cries when they fall or bump their head, slobbery kisses and yes, even poopy diapers.

It is so quiet around my house. I don’t think I really like the sound of silence at all. No, not at all.

Why Weight?

Three years ago this month I took a drastic step that would change my life. I had gastric bypass surgery. It was one of the best things I’ve ever done.

I was not overweight in my younger years. I was active. I cheered through high school and was on the dance team in college. The weight didn’t begin to pile on until after three pregnancies (two of those ending in miscarriages). I was two months shy of thirty when my daughter was born. I figure the greatest factor in my weight gain though was I became sedentary. After years and years of sitting behind a desk all day with a Mt. Dew in front of me at all times did not help. The weight just kind of creeped up. A few pounds a year, and before I knew it, I could barely walk up the stairs without gasping for breath. The weight became an embarrassment, not only to me but my family. My husband was never cruel about it but would subtly mention that I needed to do something. And with my family’s history of heart disease and diabetes I knew I had to do something.

Like so many people, I had tried every diet in the book. My drawer at work was full of diet pills. I went to the “fat doctor” for a few months and lost a considerable amount of weight. But the weight always came back. Then, I was inspired by a co-worker who had lapband surgery. He did wonderful with his surgery, and looked so good. I got his doctor’s name and number and was on my way.

It took some time for approval. There are criteria you must meet and tests you must endure. And the sleep tests are NOT fun. Who wants to go to sleep knowing someone is watching you? I was diagnosed with severe sleep apnea. I had to get hooked up to a c-pap machine after that. What a pain.

I decided the Roux en Y gastric bypass surgery would be the best choice for me. Now this is major surgery but it went great without any glitches. Amazingly, there was minimal pain afterwards. Eating again was like starting over as a baby. You start out on soft, mushy foods, then gradually over weeks build up to solids. I drank gallons and gallons of water. Even though I’d always thought I’d like to be a vegetarian, the hardest part of recovery was going without meat for those first three months. It’s safe to say I will never be vegetarian!

After time, you learn how and what you can eat. I had a few bouts with nausea but not many. Today, I pretty much can eat whatever I like, just much smaller portions. Some things may make me queasy but I’ve learned what to watch out for.

Being one hundred and twenty one pounds lighter, I can definitely say my surgery was worth it. If anyone is considering the surgery, I say go for it. Of course, not everyone will recover as well as I did. Find a good doctor and talk it over with them.

Here’s my doctor’s website. It is a great source of info: www.whyweight.com

Delete or not delete?

There’s been a lot of tragedy and deaths in our small community recently. And these people were so young. Illness, wrecks, and even a stabbing. Teenagers from the high school, a young boy only seven, mothers and fathers. A dear friend lost her husband, home and little dog in a fire. All this said brings me to this…I love to send and receive emails. Most of them are usually jokes, pictures, useful information or maybe an interesting article. I hope those receiving the emails know I’m thinking about them and send them emails because they are my friend. I may rarely, if ever, write a personal note to them but I do think about them as I scroll through my email address book and type in their name before I hit “send”. It’s just a simple way to keep in touch.

When I went to visit my friend, who lost her husband in the fire, before I left, she told me through her tears, “don’t send me any emails since I don’t have a computer any more”. I know her husband can never be replaced but her home and computer can. And if my little emails bring her a tiny ounce of joy, I’ll start sending them again. Her name will stay in my address book.

A couple of those people who have passed away were not only my friend but also my email buddy. Now when I scroll through my address book I pause when I come to their name. I just can’t bring myself to delete it. It’s as if I might erase them from my memory if I delete their name from that little file. One of the girls has been gone for over two years now. She died unexpectedly and suddenly from a brain aneurism. Her face always pops into my mind when I scroll to her name. She was a stay at home mom but volunteered at the school all the time. She loved her daughters and also loved helping the children at school. The other friend died instantly in a car wreck along with her little boy. She was a beautiful girl. I always can see her smile and dimples when I read her name. I know I’ll never forget either of these friends but somehow just seeing their name “makes” me remember them. And I just can’t bring myself to hit delete.

O Daddy, Where Art Thou?

If only I had listened closer, watched more and asked more questions. My daddy has been gone eight years now and there are so many things I can think of that I’d love to know about but just never did ask or didn’t pay attention when I should. Like gardening. After he retired, one of his joys was raising his gardens. He always had two, sometimes three, plots. And I don’t mean small patio gardens either. We would help if he asked but he usually liked to do everything himself. He kept the middles plowed clean. No weeds allowed in his garden. When his grandkids were small he’d tell them to “step where I step” so they wouldn’t step on his seeds or tender young plants just sprouting up. And the kids would fall right behind him, walking in his footsteps. His pride and joy was his tomatoes. He planted no less than one hundred plants each spring. Mother and us would gather and can all we wanted and then Daddy would give away the rest. He loved to take the neighbors a bucket of tomatoes or squash or whatever. Now I can’t even remember what kind of tomatoes he planted. And I should know that. We don’t plant a garden today because we always depended on Daddy and never learned what we needed to know.

If you still have your parents or even grandparents, take the time to talk to them and get all the information you can. Don’t wait. Do it today because tomorrow might be too late.

What do you know that we do not know? What insights do you have that we do not have? The gray-haired and the aged are on our side, men even older than your father. Job 15:9-10

Beauty for Ashes

For the most part, my life has been pretty normal as normal goes. I was reared by my father and mother, the youngest of five children. We were raised in church. I accepted Christ as a young teen. Went to college, got a job, got married and had a child. I was not perfect by no means but I was a pretty decent person. Never did the drug/alcohol scene. It amazes my daughter that I’ve never drank a beer. There have been a few life changing events along the way, marriage, the birth of my daughter, Katrina, but those do not compare to what I’m about to share.

Around the middle of December of 2006, I got a phone call. “Do you know the latest rumor concerning your daughter?” I was asked. No, I replied. “She’s pregnant”. I paused and then tried to nonchalantly say “Well she hasn’t told me about it if she is. You know how rumors get started”, as my heart beat a little harder. Just a rumor, can't be true.

I didn’t say anything but I watched for the signs after that call. They were there. Sickness, sleepiness, tiredness, no period. It came time to ask. “No, I can’t be” she told me. I prayed that was so but I knew better. I wanted to get through Christmas then immediately after I bought a test. I woke her up early one morning and had her take it. That big plus sign hit me like a slap in the face. At that moment it became reality. Every emotion possible ran through my mind and body. Except anger. I never got angry with my child. Yes, my 15 year old child was pregnant.

I guess like most parents, my husband and I wondered where we went wrong. We were Christian parents. We were at church three times a week, sometimes more. This shouldn’t happen to folks like us. Well, the Lord showed us.

She and I went for her initial visit to the same doctor that delivered her 15 years earlier. I cried the whole time.

But there was never any doubt that we'd keep the baby and it would be loved.

It was hard going out in public. I felt like everyone was talking about us disgraceful parents and our trashy little girl. It was weeks before I went to Walmart and when I did I felt like I was naked. We didn’t go to church. We just couldn’t face folks. My pastor called to check on us. When I broke down and told him he was very sensitive and supportive. I didn’t tell my family. They had to find out through the grapevine. And they did. News like that travels fast in a small community.

There was a tiny smidgeon of excitement when the sonogram was scheduled to find out what the baby was. That day finally came. My beautiful tiny little daughter lay on the table, while me and the father stood beside her. The tech said, “There’s one head. And there’s another head”. WHAT? Yes, my tiny little daughter was having not one, but two little girls. Excitement, pure excitement, set in at that very moment. I didn’t care what people thought about me, my husband or my daughter. We were having TWINS!

It was an up and down pregnancy. Preterm labor was stopped once. But after 32 weeks the girls would wait no longer. They were small, 3 pounds 13 ounces and 3 pounds 10 ounces, but healthy. They were beautiful tiny little girls.

That’s been almost a year ago. I cannot imagine what life would be like without my precious babies...all three of them. It’s hard. Twins are a handful. But it is twice the fun and twice the love.

It amazes me how the Lord took what we thought was a tragedy and turned it into a blessing. A double blessing.

Life is hard. God is good. Amen!

Unattached

No, I'm not getting divorced. After 24 years I have him pretty well trained so I think I'll keep him. I'm referring to my brother and his animals. My pets become part of the family. But not to him. He buys and sells or gets and gives and doesn't think twice about it. Oh, I don't think any less of him for it. He's a wonderful brother, a super nice and friendly person that everyone likes. He's a part time farmer and I guess that's just what farmers do. Just last week he sold his beautiful herd of black angus. We live in the old family home so the barn and catch pen is behind our back yard (yes, we even have an old family cemetery in our side yard). I had been taking my grandbabies out to see the moo cows every afternoon. Several of the cows would let you close enough to pet them. The babies were entranced. It had become a daily ritual. Now they are gone. My brother just says "I'm gonna get some more". Get 'em, raise them, then sell 'em. It breaks my heart to lose a pet. Earlier this year I lost my 12 year old kitty and my 10 year old pot belly pig. I cried, my daughter cried. I might have even seen a tear in my husband's eyes. Maybe it would be easier if I were more like my brother and was just unattached.

Where's the time?

So where do people get the time to post blogs? I started this thing a month ago and have not had a chance to get back on it since. I'm busy at work and busy at home. I see others who post daily or even more than once daily. I guess you have to scrape and dig to get those extra minutes to write. Maybe I'll do better at it and make it a point to reserve some time, at least once a week, to write in my blog. We'll just have to see how it goes.