Isn't that ironic?

Ok, I know that I haven't posted consistently in what seems like forever. I need to get back on the ball and at least journal things like the event I had not 20 minutes ago. Oh, how I one day will look back on this and laugh....right now, I can't get past my throbbing headache.

So, I'm putting some final touches on the Christmas Newsletter. On one side of the page is a column which highlights some of the big events for us in 2008. I note that we purchased a house here in Texas. I wrote that Dallas started Kindergarten. I typed that Keegan mastered the toilet. And upon thinking of what I could note about Jason, I notice that the dog wants to go upstairs but is blocked by the baby gate. So I hop up from the couch and begin to climb the stairs to unlock the gate at the top.

As I follow behind the dog, I notice that I'm lucky enough to catch a whiff of the gas coming out of her back end..... no wait, THAT'S NOT THE DOG! By the time that I'm at the top of the stairs, I see Keegan standing there naked spreading a brown substance all over his legs with his index finger. In a loud, high pitch tone, I ask what he thinks he's doing.... to which he tells me, "I poop in my bedroom". "What do you mean, "you poop in your bedroom"...where are your clothes?" I then dash to the bathroom to see the toilet completely clean...no chance of an accidental toilet seat rub that caused this mess on my child. So I make my way to his bedroom only to find a fresh turd sitting square in the middle of his room. By now, the dog is sniffing it and going nuts. And I think, THIS CAN'T BE.... I JUST WROTE THAT YOU HAD MASTERED THE TOILET!!!!

I couldn't make this stuff up. I think I'm calling it a night and will join my snoring husband in bed. How he manages to miss these ironic episodes, I will never know.

Positives Cancel Negatives

I would be lying if I said that the last couple of weeks have been a walk in the park. Just like eating a great meal only to have heartburn hours later, my days of peace and stress-free living have been replaced by acidic attacks of disappointment and anxiety. I realize that good times and bad are cyclical, so I will ride this season out with my head up.

To negate the events that have me losing sleep, I did have a couple of events that put a pure smile on my face. The first was having some very dear friends of mine, the Davenports, come for a visit. I use the term "friends" pretty loosely considering that they are more like family. Rhonda is one of 3 other ladies that I keep in regular contact with through bi-weekly conference calls. She is an invaluable friend who constantly speaks wisdom, love and perspective into my life. And while she was here, we were able to enjoy some of the best things in life: Sunday morning service, great food, and an long overdue pedicure.

The other event that really filled my heart to the brim was my date night with Jason and Dallas. They have been anticipating the release of "Star Wars: The Clone Wars" ever since they saw the poster advertising its upcoming release. I told them that I would take them out on a double-date the night that it was released. When the release date came out, they started counting down the weeks, then the days, then the hours.

I started "date night" with Jason and Dallas a couple of years back. The majority of the time, it is and opportunity for them to have an evening out alone with Mom. We normally will go to dinner and a movie and then maybe even do a little something fun after that. Mostly, it's an opportunity for us to just have that one-on-one time that they so desperately crave and need.

During our date, I try to teach them what a young man should do, not just on date night, but on a regular basis. IE: Open and hold the door for his date, pull out the chair, use good manners, etc. Basically, I try to teach them how to treat a lady. Kenny does as well...but they don't get to practice what they are taught with Kenny. It's on date night with Mom that they get to show me their date skills.

Their skills do not disappoint, that is for sure. On our last date, Jason came out of his bedroom wearing his best shirt, hair combed, teeth brushed and proclaiming that he was ready. Mind you, any other day, it would be wrinkled t-shirts, dirty shorts, uncombed hair and barely brushed teeth. A metro-sexual, he is not.

Dallas didn't dress up too much, yet during our date, he brought a huge smile to my face on several occasions. He and Jason would fight over who was going to hold the door for me and when asked what restaurant they wanted to go to for dinner, he replied, "I don't care, Mommy. I just want you to have a lovely evening."

A lovely evening it definitely was. Definitely.

The Shack

William Young, author of "The Shack", was in Orlando at the Christian Retailers Convention that I attended this last week. After hearing a bit about the book from newly made friends, I found myself in a conference room watching and listening to the author as he told the story of how this book came to be.

I was immediately drawn in by my own curiosity. It held the title of "NY Times Best Seller", and enticed me with the question, "Who is God, really?".

Hmm, I know the answer to that question...at least I thought I did.

Having just read the last page of this masterpiece, I admit that a new found understanding of Him has been revealed. Almost like a new layer has been peeled back and exposed for my pleasure.

I can see why this book has been a best seller. It breaks and rebuilds the reader. It shatters stereotypes and predetermined ideas and replaces them with character traits that are more in sync with what is written in black and red. Truth be told, reading this book was like drinking from a fire hydrant. I will certainly be revisiting this story again and again.

What a phenomenal gift that God has given to us through William Young. Knowing that it will eventually make it's way to the silver screen has me waiting in anticipation.

Bravo, William Young! And thank you.

Chapter one can be read beginning here.

I Know What Fire Tastes Like

I spent this last week in Orlando, FL for a Christian Retailers trade show. I was there to help promote get the WORD out clothing co. with my dear friends and company owners, Robb & Marie Jackson. It is ALWAYS a blast whenever we get together. We all have the same sense of humor, the same deep rooted faith and the same desires to see get the WORD out become everything that we believe it was meant to be.

The first opportunity that allowed us an evening of casual/no obligations dining was Wednesday night. Having previously been there, I recommended that we dine at Tijuana Flats, a local fast/casual restaurant whose claim to fame is their "hot bar".

The "hot bar" consists of about 12 different hot sauces varying in flavor and intensity. On the milder side, you will find "Sissy Sauces" including my personal favorite, "Slap My SWEET Ass And Call Me Sally Sweet". It is the perfect blend of spice and sweetness. It's yummy!

On the extreme opposite are "Death Wish Sauces". I've never ventured to that side of the hot bar, knowing full well that the intensity would be a little over the top for my comfort level.

Somehow in the middle of dinner, my brother in law, Justin, brought over the hottest sauce available. Looking back, I may have mentioned that "hot" doesn't bother me so much as "onion-ish" flavoring. And I may have inadvertently let the words, "Sure, I'll try it," pass through my lips.

As I grabbed a chip and began to thoroughly dip it in the sauce, I noticed that Marie also grabbed a chip and dipped it in the sauce as well. She didn't quite get the same amount on her chip as I did, but the fact that she was traveling down this road of stupidity with me says a lot about her character and loyalty. My sista wasn't going to let me do this alone. So we counted down and on "one", popped our sauce covered chips into our mouths.

Now, you'd think that common sense would have some sort of bearing in my life. I'd like to think that I'm somewhat intelligent. For Pete's sake, I use to write in programming code; I'm not an idiot... on most days, that is. On this particular day, all common sense and intelligence not only left my brain, but also wiped their fingerprints on the way out. You see, I figured that if I was going to truly experience this "Death Wish" sauce, I would need to roll the contents around in my mouth so as to insure complete coverage of the roof, cheeks and tongue before swallowing. So, that is just what I did.

The initial wave of intensity wasn't so bad. It was hot, spicy and intense...but tolerable. And just as I opened my mouth to say so, it hit me. Passing air through my mouth...the simple act of breathing intensified the sauce to an indescribable level. Ten seconds in, the insides of my mouth literally feel like they are ON FIRE. Beads of sweat formed not only on my upper lip and forehead, but also on my scalp. A white fog seemed to have settled around my eyes...could it be the smoke coming from my mouth? And as if they were in a tunnel, I hear Robb, Justin and Jessica laughing hysterically at both Marie and I. At this point, I look over to Marie only to see her sticking her tongue into a cup of ice water. Great idea!! I grab a cup myself and as I lower my head downward, streams of snot come gushing out of my nose.

Once I manage to mop up that lovely mess, I begin to alternate between dipping my tongue and lips into the cup of ice water and wiping the insides of my mouth with napkins. I could give a flying fart about how I look to others in the restaurant and the scene that we are making. The pain is FOR REAL. Unfortunately, neither the napkins nor ice water really help to alleviate the pain. It would seem that time would be the only antidote.

Justin coaches us through the traumatic event with giggles all the while. "Stay with it...enjoy the endorphin rush...stay with it." I'm thinking that I will strangle him when this is all said and done.

Within 5 minutes, I believe we were both able to regain our composure. The pain had subsided enough to allow us to act in a manner which wouldn't warrant a call to the psych ward.

I don't regret the experience. And the fact that Marie stepped up alongside made it even more of an experience. Hey, we bonded in a way that few will ever understand. Never mind the fact that the bonding occurred over a sauce in the same "Death Wish" category as "Ass Reaper" and "Colon Blow".

Ah...good times....good times, indeed.

You just lost one...

Vacation

I won't deny that I was a bit depressed as I boarded my return flight back to Texas 2 days ago. If it weren't for the flight capacity, and mostly the toothache that I had, I would most likely still be hanging out in Reno. I could have stayed either there or in Medford for another 2 weeks and been just fine. Looking back though, I suppose it was best that I returned home when I did. (I'm scheduled for a root canal next Tuesday after the infection goes down...oh fun.)

Obviously, I enjoyed our family vacation. We had plenty of activities to keep us busy and most definitely plenty of beauty for our eyes to adore. Some of the highlights of our trip included boating on Fish Lake (where we caught zero fish regardless of them jumping not 20 feet around the perimiter of our boat). We also spent an afternoon cruising up and down the Rogue River on the Hellgate Jetboat Excursion and Kenny and I were even able to sneak away for a date night that included watching "The Comedy Of Errors" at the Oregon Shakespear Festival.

I could blog for hours describing the sights, scents and sounds that put me on cloud nine while in Oregon and Nevada. Perhaps I will do that in the upcoming days. For now, I'll just post a few pictures.

Sadie Part II

Several hospital and vet office trips later, we were able to bring Sadie home with us last night. She is still not out of the woods. At this point, she still has a 50-50 chance of survival. Her body's ability to produce more platelets will likely make or break her. So far, her platelet count is decreasing. We are obviously hoping to turn a corner very soon. But for now, she is home. And we count that small miracle as a blessing beyond measure.

Below is an interesting article that I found at the vet's office.

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Love is Never Having to Say Anything at All
Patricia B. McConnell

Cool Hand Luke is not going to die. I won't stand for it. I know, of course, that he will, at least part of me does.

After all, he's 11, he's a dog, and he's already cheated death from cancer, cars, and a 300-pound ram determined to kill him or me, whoever came first. I'm more grateful than I can say that Luke is still here. His front paws may be swollen with arthritis and he may tire easily, but he still loves working sheep, fetching tennis balls, and sitting in silence with me in the rosy light of the sunset. And I still love him so completely that I imagine his death to be as if all the oxygen in the air disappeared, and I was left to try to survive without it.

I'm not alone in this love affair. Everywhere I go I talk to people who have soul mates like Luke, dogs so special we get tears in our eyes just talking about them. This phenomenon is not new--people have been in love with dogs for centuries. Nor is the love of pets unique to industrial societies--even hunter/gatherer societies have animal companions.

While not everyone loves dogs, there's a phenomenon that needs explaining: Those of us who love dogs love them so deeply it hurts. It's easy to demean these feelings, as people often do. Dog lovers have been described as neurotics or social incompetents, and though dog lovers can be just as emotionally illiterate as the rest of the world, loving dogs is not, in itself, the problem. There's something much bigger than neediness that drives our love of dogs. People the world over have sought an answer to why we love dogs, perhaps an indication that the question is deeply rooted. I don't think it's a trivial question, either, and not just because I'm stupid in love with my dogs. I'm also a scientist and applied animal behaviorist, and from the perspective of biology, the question is both interesting and important.

Indeed, biology itself provides some of the answers. One obvious connection between dogs and humans is our shared natural history. Dogs and people may be strikingly different in many ways, but, if you compare our behavior with that of other animals, we share more than we don't. Like dogs, people sleep, eat, and hunt together, and that in itself is notable in the animal kingdom. Pandas are notoriously solitary. Feral cats can live in groups or alone, but they don't hunt together. Butterflies are often seen together, but only because they're attracted to the same minerals in the puddle in your driveway. In contrast to animals who are seen together without social relationships, dogs and humans ore so social that we even raise our young together, sometimes deferring our own reproduction in order to assist another member of the group. Individuals of both species will nurse the young of another female, and that fact alone puts dogs and humans in a special category.

Many other factors of natural history have a profound effect on our relationship with dogs. Dogs, like people, live in social hierarchies, and are generally amenable to doing what high-status individuals ask of them. Both human beings and dogs are "Peter Pan animals," whose behavior is shaped by a process called paedomorphism, in which adult, sexually mature individuals retain the characteristics of adolescents, remaining curious and playful all their lives. It's easy to take playing with your dog for granted, but go ask a cow to play with you and see how far you get.

Equally important is our shared tendency to nurture needy individuals. In both species, offspring are born helpless, desperately in need of care and a safe environment in which to learn survival skills. Humans have such an extended period of parental care that we're hard-wired to go week-kneed at animals who look infantile. If you want people to feel all warm and gooey and nurturing, show them a baby mammal with a disproportionately large forehead and over sized hands, and listen for the "Awww's" coming out of the crowd. This reaction to young, needy mammals is such a primal part of who we are that psychologists have labeled it the "Aw phenomenon."

Dogs don't stay cute little puppies for long, but they remain dependent and nonverbal, much like very young children. Some of us may have great respect for our dogs, as I do for Luke, but, although he can load the ram on the truck single-handedly, he still can't open doors or pull his dinner out from that magic place under the counter. Natural selection has emphasized nurturance in our species, and surly dogs have profited from it.

All these shared characteristics are important, but somehow all of them don't seem enough to explain the passion many of us have for our dogs. A love of play and strategic hunting techniques may drive our relationship, but a shared natural history isn't enough of an explanation when some big, strong fireman is sobbing in my office while discussing euthanizing his dog. The depth of pain we dog lovers feel when facing the loss of one of our best friends can be overwhelming.

In some ways it's similar to the grief we feel when we lose a human loved one. But something not particularly obvious is different about our grief over losing a dog. People who've never cried in their lives cry over losing their dogs. I'll never forget the episode of the TV series M*A*S*H* when, surrounded by the relentless agonies of injured and dying soldiers in Korea, the medical team coped with black humor, bravery, and stamina--until a little stray dog they'd ado[ted died. Then they fell apart. It may have been just a television show, but it reflected something universally true about the effect dogs have on us.

I remember watching the movie My Dog Skip with a friend and crying at the end with the same pure emotion I say on that M*A*S*H* episode. We weren't simply crying about the loss of a dog, we were crying over loss itself, and when personified in a dog, that sense of loss was easier to let out. The tendency of humans to be able to grieve so deeply over a dog indicates that something big and primal and important goes on between people and dogs that has as much to do with our emotions as our shared natural history.

So why is it, then, that dogs can elicit the purity of emotion we often cover up in our human relationships? Perhaps, just perhaps, it is because dogs don't talk. Sure, you already knew that. But the more I think about the consequences of our nonverbal relationship with dogs, the more benefits there are. Psychologists have told us for years that dogs give us "non judgemental positive regard," and we intuitively understand exactly what that means. The pure and simple you that radiates from our dogs every time we come home is rarely duplicated in human greetings, and it can elicit the feeling of pure love that we all seek from infancy onward.. Dogs indeed love us with tremendous intensity, and the fact that they can't talk acts to underscore it, not diminish it.

Of course we can communicate with dogs. They understand hundreds of words we use and get a tremendous amount of information from our intonation. But even the most avid dog lover can't sit down and have an in-depth conversation with their dog.

If dogs could talk, I suspect things wouldn't feel so pure and simple. Though most of our dogs love us deeply, they don't necessarily love us every second of the day. Luke can shoot me a look that can be summed up in two words. The second is "you," but the first is not "love." Why should intelligent individuals not make judgments about what happens to them? Surely our dogs can get frustrated if we delay that walk in the woods for the phone call that came just as we were going out the door, just like our spouses or partners can. I don't say this cynically, and I don't want to burst any sacred bubbles, but perhaps what dogs give us is the perception of continual "nonjudgmental positive regard." If I could teach Luke to talk, I'm not sure I'd always be happy about what he had to say.

A hurtful word can live a long time in the heart of the receiver, and influence the relationship forever after. In the case of dogs, perhaps it's easier to ignore an irritation here and a ruffled feather there, because our dogs can't put words to them.. "Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me" may be common refrain, but it's not based in reality. Words can cause terrible damage, sometimes lasting a lifetime, and the fact that dogs can't use them may be a blessings.

Our lack of a shared language can be a great disadvantage, causing us grief when we're desperate to ask our dogs what's wrong, or yearning to explain why we're torturing them with another radiation treatment. Our ability to talk to one another may be one of the greatest accomplishments of the human species, and there are times when I'd give anything to be able to communicate with Luke in greater depth than I can now. But speech comes with a price. Being in conversation with even a good friend raises your blood pressure. It takes a lot of mental energy to make decisions about what words to say, how to string them together, what tone to use when you say them. That's the very same energy that spiritual leaders advise us to turn off as a way of revitalizing ourselves. The constant conversation that most of us have in our heads can be exhausting and is so inherent to the way our brains work that we actually have to practice turning it off. Anyone who's tried meditation knows how difficult it can be to shut off the internal chatter that comes with being verbal.

Experts at meditation can be "in the present," and free of mental noise for hours, but I'm thrilled to turn off my brain for a minute or two. That's because I'm a novice at a skill we humans need to learn and practice. But I doubt Luke has to practice meditating to be able to experience the kind of spiritual peace humans have to learn to find. Being nonverbal allows an otherwise intelligent, highly connected animal to live in the present without the hailstorm of internal conversations that complicate our human lives. If you think about it, most of what we "talk" about in our won heads isn't about the present, it's about the past or future. But dogs keep us firmly rooted in the here and now, and that, it turns out, is a notable accomplishment.

Where but with dogs can we have such a deep and meaningful relationship with so little baggage? Words may be wonderful things, but they carry weight with them, and there's a great lightness of being when they are discarded. The story of the Garden of Eden is a lovely allegory about the cost of cognition. Being able to use our brains the way we do separates us from the rest of the animal world, and, like most everything else in life, it has its costs as well as its benefits.

Perhaps it's not just the things we share with dogs that wrap us together in mutual love. In the lovely, balanced irony of yin and yang, it's the differences as much as the similarities that bring us together. Some of the happiest times are when Luke and I sit silently together, overlooking the green, rolling hills of southern Wisconsin. Our lack of language doesn't get in the way, but it creates an opening for something else, something deep and pure and good. We dog lovers share a Zen-like communion with our dogs, uncluttered by nouns and adverbs and dangling participles. This connection speaks to a part of us that needs to be nurtured and listened to, but is so often drowned out in the cacophony of speech. Dogs remind us that we are being heard, without the additional weight of words. What a gift. No wonder we love them so much.

Sadie

I know better than that. Dogs don't handle heat the way that humans do. I know better. Yet I still had the brilliant idea to go for a walk in the mid-day sun with the family, dog included. And even though the temperature outside was in the mid 90's, I thought the breeze was enough to warrant a nice walk for everyone. Jason and Dallas would ride their bikes, I would push Keegan on his tricycle and Kenny would walk our family dog, Sadie.

Kenny immediately let Sadie off her leash allowing her to run free. She resembles an overstuffed sausage at this stage in her life. Exercise is hardly in her daily routine. So a free run would be good for her. And she seemed overjoyed to be out and running along side Jason and Dallas as they pedeled through the neighborhood streets.

At about 3/4 of the way into our walk, we realized that we should have brought her a bowl for some water. Instead, we led her to a garden hose and turned it on where she drank what she could between her heavy pants. She layed down on a cool spot of grass as if to tell us that she had gone as far as she intended to go. I told Kenny that I would run her back to the house and get her inside where it was cool and where she could get some fresh water, which is exactly what I did. But instead of drinking the water, she wandered around our house seeking an area that would cool her off quickly. She wouldn't take any water.

I immediately Google'd signs of heat stroke in canines. The symptoms were, rectal temperature of 106 or more, staggering, vomitting and diareah. At this point, Kenny was back at home and watching Sadie alongside me. We both jokingly shrugged at the idea of checking her rectal temperature, but agreed that she needed to be cooled down. He decided to lead her outside so that he could drench her with the water hose. As they headed downstairs, I noticed her staggering...sign #1. As she exited to the front porch, she immediately vomitted...sign #2. At that point, Kenny grabbed her and rushed her to the vet's office just down the road.

It didn't take much to confirm that she was indeed suffering from a heat stroke. Her temperature was 109...the highest that they had seen. She was immediately pumped full of fluids and every attempt to bring her temperature down was made. As Kenny headed off to work, I headed down to the vet's office to stay on site. Thirty minutes later, I was led back to see her.

She looked horrible. Her eyes were sunken and droopy. She barely made an attempt to raise her head to greet me. As they opened the kennel door, I stooped down to sit with her and found myself climbing into the kennel to sit beside and pet her. I supported the weight of her head by holding her chin so that we could have eye contact. All the while, the only thought running through my mind was "I did this to her. This was my stupid idea. I did this to her."

The vet came in and confirmed my fears. She was at a very critical stage and they didn't know if she would be able to pull through. She was facing an inability to clot, which if not conquered, would cause her to bleed out. In addition, she may have permanent organ failure.

They suggested taking her to the Animal Emergency Center down the road for overnight treatment. So after getting her stabilized, off we headed. When we arrived, the vet ran a couple of blood panels and confirmed that she was not clotting and would need plasma transfusions. When they brought in the cost estimates ($1,400-$2,500)along with the news that she had a 50-50 chance of survival, I immediately called Kenny and began sobbing. I asked him what he wanted to do and then asked what he thought we should do. Obviously, he wanted to do anything to save our dog's life. And 2 seconds before he began to tell me what he thought we should do, I stopped him from uttering the words. I told him that I couldn't live with the guilt of knowing that this was my fault. I told him that if she pulls through, she's got several years of joy that she can bring. And for those reasons, I wanted to take our chances...no matter the cost. So, I signed the release and gave her over to the care of the staff. They told me that no-news was good news and that if she could make it through the night, it would be a huge accomplishment.

The first words our of Jason's mouth as I walked through our home's front door were, "Where's Sadie?!?" He began crying immediately, fearing the worst. I tried to comfort him and assure him that they were doing absolutely everything possible to save her. Needless to say, it was a rough night last night for everyone.

At 11:30pm, the phone rang. I immediately flashed back to "No news is good news." As I grabbed the phone and saw the caller ID "Animal Emergency Center", my legs and arms went numb and my heart sank into the pit of my stomach. It seemed like a slow-motion movie as the voice on the other end began to tell me "No no...it's good news! Sadie is responding to the plasma. She is clotting and showing signs of improvement. I just thought you'd want to know." Whew!!

This morning, Jason and I hopped in the truck and headed down the pick her up. We were simply transporting her back to our vets office for further fluids and observation today.

Just now, the vet called to say that indeed, she has improved. Yet he is still concerned about possible kidney damage. She is still extremely dehydrated. At this point they are trying to flush out all the toxins from her body...those that are attempting to damager her kidneys. More blood panels are scheduled for this afternoon. But hopefully, she will be able to come home tonight. We are all obviously keeping our fingers crossed.

I never thought I'd be one of those animal nuts that spends thousands of dollars on their pet. But here I am....one of those nuts. Perhaps my guilt is the reason why $2,000-and-counting later, she is still alive with a fighting chance. I would like to believe though, that we said, "do whatever it takes." because she is such a huge part of our family. She is an amazing dog. Gentle, obedient, smart, loyal, trustworthy...everything that you would seek out in a person, let alone a dog.

Get well, Sadie. Get well.

Two Word Descriptives

My life right now in two word summaries:

Potty Training
Awaiting Summer
Constant Laundry
Settling Fights
Oregon Bound
Baseball's Over
Saving Gas
Falling Behind
Keeping Perspective
Missing Friends
Anticipating Layoffs
Appreciating Kenny
Exhaling Soon
Watching Movies
Trusting God
Friday Prayers
Taking Pictures
Paying Debt
Organizing Home
Seeking Guidance
Celebrating Decisions
Graphics Designing
Backyard Grilling
Michelob Ultra
Convincing Jacksons
Realizing Happiness
Loving Life

Cyndi & Scott

Cyndi has been one of my best friends for the last 24 years. We met at Cherry Avenue Jr. High School. Through the years, our friendship has solidified into something more like a sisterhood. Although we don't see each other or talk to each other as often as either of us would like, I feel certain that we both would go to the ends of the earth for the other. I love her beyond words.

Earlier this year, I got the phone call that I didn't want from her. She informed me that her husband's cancer was back. And for the last several months, Scott has been fighting through. He has been victorious over the cancer for a second time. However, the damages the cancer left in the wake are serious to say the least. It has been debilitating physically and emotionally. At this point, it seems as if only God can fully restore him.

I decided a few weeks ago to fly out to Oakland where he was hospitalized so that I could sit with them both for day. They didn't know that I was coming; I just went with the conviction that I should have been there to love on them weeks prior.

The hug that I received from Cyndi when she opened the door was one that I will remember all the days of my life. There are a handful of hugs that have really impacted me. When my Grandfather died, my dad hugged me and cried. It was the first time I had seen him cry. A hug hello I received at the Nashville airport said more than any words could have. And Cyndi's hug as she fell onto my shoulder and wept said all that needed to be said.

We spent much of the time just chatting, the three of us. At times, we would read scripture. We prayed together. We laughed and cried. We talked about Scott's prognosis. And for a short period, Cyndi and I were able to escape the hospital walls for a bite to eat, where we laughed and cried some more. It was over that meal that she told me that she believed it would take a miracle for Scott to walk out of the hospital. Good thing that God is still in the miracle making business. They both went home this last Wednesday. And even though Scott's kidney's are extremely damaged and the doctor's have done everything that they can...at least they are home together.

While I sat in that hospital room with them both, I felt that it was such an honor to be there. It was raw, absolute, real. There was full transparency with them both. They didn't hide emtotions, fears, tears, doubts...anything. I watched Cyndi care for her husband...I saw her dedication to him...her allegience. I witnessed his complete dependency on her. It really is impossible to put into words what I witnessed. As Scott fought for his life and clung on to a strand of hope, it was Cyndi there encouraging him. They mourned and wept over what seems to be unattainable dreams; a life in Japan, a return to the life they had just 5 years ago. They celebrated a new found level of emotional intimacy.

Why do we, as a people, wait for such extreme life events to bare our souls?

Needless to say, they have been on my mind quite a bit lately. And as I was working the other day on my laptop, I had my iTunes playing when "Now Comes The Night" by Rob Thomas came through my speakers. The simplicity of the piano caused me to pause and take in the lyrics. Then I realized that this song is what I witnessed with Cyndi and Scott. She has sung this song to him every day through her actions and absolute dedication to him. He has been her everything for every waking second through this battle. She has stood in the gap for him. She has remembered him in everything.

Before I headed to the airport to return home, I stopped by the hospital to check in one last time. After a near medication blunder, we all settling down and decided to pray. Afterward, I rose up and went to give Scott a hug. It was time for me to leave. As we hugged, I felt him begin to cry and I realized that he was saying goodbye. Not, "I'll see you later", but "goodbye". I guess at that moment, it hit me that this may indeed be goodbye, at least for our life here on earth. I whispered in his ear words of encouragement and told him to fight through and never give up hope. The people praying for his recovery would continue to pray and he would just need to fight through one day at a time. As we broke our embrace, I turned to Cyndi to hug her and say my farewells. I couldn't help but fight back the tears knowing full well that I was returning home to a pretty normal life by most people's standards while she remained on the front lines here at her husband's side.

As I entered the halls, the tears began rolling down my face. I knew that I was just in the presence of absolute love...unadulterated, undiluted and completely transparent. That's what I love about my friendship with Cyndi. It's authentic and real. So, I celebrate Cyndi today and what she has done for her husband through these last 4 weeks. I love her dearly and am honored to call her friend, sister, and hero.

Now Comes The Night

When the hour is upon us
And our beauty surely gone
No, you will not be a forgotten and you will not be alone
No, you will not be alone

And when the day has all but ended
And our echo starts to fade
No, you will not be alone then and you will not be afraid
No, you will not be afraid

And when the fog has finally lifted
From our cold and tired brow
No, I will not leave you crying
No, I will not let you down
No, I will not let you down
I will not let you down

Now comes the night
Feel it fading away
And the soul underneath
Is it all that remains
So just slide over here
Leave your fear in the fray
Let us hold to each other
Until the end of our days

When the hour is upon us
And our beauty surely gone
No you will not be forgotten
And you will not be alone
No you will not be alone

Hoping Once Again

After sending a selling proposal to our renters a few weeks ago, we finally got word back from them that they are 100% interested in purchasing our house back in Reno. We tried to entice them by reducing our price significantly. Maybe it worked.

The only hang-up is that they have a house in Fernley that needs to sell and they don't think that they will qualify for another home loan as long as they have that house in their name.

They have 66 more days on the lease with their tenants. They said that once the lease is up, they will then put their house on the market. In the meantime, Kenny and I are both praying that they DO qualify for a second home loan and will move forward with our purchase more sooner than later.

Here's to keeping our fingers crossed....

Precious Moments

Last night as I sang our traditional bedtime song to my boys, I realized that it won't be long before they do not want to participate in this bedtime ritual. Right now, they beg me every evening to tuck them in and sing to them. I happily oblige, and admittedly do so quite frequently on autopilot. However, last night...for whatever reason, it struck me that what I was experiencing would soon be a fond memory that I would long to relive.

The days, weeks, months and years seem to be flying by lately. My "baby" will be 3 in a few short months....yet it was just a few blinks ago when I held my oldest in my arms for the very first time.

I'm so thankful that I realize these precious moments as they happen.

Attacks

Lately, my very best friends have been coming under various attacks. One is dealing with her spouse's major health issues and another confronts the demons of a troubled child.

In times like these, many would say that God is not a good God. That He is absent from the every day struggles of man. That He doesn't care or won't get involved in His creation's problems. However, I can not accept this theory. I have seen what prayer can do. I have witnessed miracles. I have experienced transformation. I cling to the hope that is Jesus Christ.

I use to think that people who said things like this were just speaking "Christianese" and that it was just lipservice given to a bad situation. However, the more I grow and further my walk in Christ, I realize that the hope therein is more true and heavier in substance than I ever thought possible. All of life's answers are found in Christ...all of them. So during these troubling times, I turn to Him, I petition for my beloved, I trust in His authority and Word and sovereignty. It's all I can do.... and it's enough.

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28

Easter Epiphany

This Easter, I had an epiphany. As I stood in service singing along to the worship music, I was blanketed by God's grace in a way that I have never experienced before. I realized that I am not above backsliding and am still in desperate need of a Savior. It was such a profound experience; I'm certain that this date has been permanently marked as a turning point in my life.

Matthew 5:29

Romans 7:15 (NLT)

Luke 6:46

Choking

I'm literally choking on my own thoughts and words as I cry out to God on behalf of my friend of 23 years. She is hurting, so I hurt too. She is walking through the lowest valley of her life and all I want to do is wrap my arms around her and cry with her. Distance seperates us physically, but we're both sobbing. I'm scared, she is terrified, and he continues to hold on. Lord, please give him the strength, the health and the hope to hold on.

Boomer

Last Tuesday, we bid farewell to our dog, Boomer. We had him for a little over a year. We went through the puppy stage where he chewed everything, including our comforter and pillow set. The digging stage where he destroyed our backyard. The hyper stage (which he's still in) where he leaped like a Mexican Jumping Bean anytime there was human contact. The pissing stage where he marked his territory all over any absorbant item in our house. And the humping stage where he continually attempted to mount our other, very low key, very mellow dog, Sadie. Needless to say, the decision to find another family for him was a hard one.

Really though, Boomer is a very smart dog. We just never had the time for him that he so desperately needed. And since the purchase of our house, we knew that he'd have to find another home due to the size of our yard.

Ironically, he wound up back in Reno. He's now with a family of animal lovers on a couple acres of land. Kenny works with his new owner and has since confirmed how happy Boomer is and how well he has adjusted to his new life.

As for us, we're happier too. I really do hate to admit that we are those people...ones who didn't fully commit to our pet. Well, at least that was the case with Boomer. And I never thought that we'd be placing him in another home...but we did what we knew was best for us and him both.

Anyway, the other day, my mother-in-law was commenting on how much happier Sadie seems. She's not so nervous and just seems to be a bit more content. I mentioned something to the fact that I noticed that as well, and that I thought a lot of it had to do with Boomer's absence. Sadie now gets more time with us, like it used to be. There is just a greater harmony in the home. To that, Dallas agreed. He said, "Sadie is more happy now that Boomer is gone cause he was always trying to get piggy back rides from her." All Kathy and I could do was laugh and agree. Out of the mouths of babes....

Starting to Move

After many hours of labor, we moved our first load over to the new house tonight. There is still a lot to do; many rooms still to paint and tons of landscaping to do. But at least we are now moving forward. I believe that tonight might be our last night here. I'm pretty sure that we'll start sleeping over at the other house tomorrow. Finally!

Aside from finally moving some stuff to the new house, I'd have to say that the highlight of my day was when our family was participating in our dinner-time "high-low" game. Each night that we gather around the dinner table, we each confess our high and low point for the day. What made my day was hearing Dallas say that his "high" for the day was knowing that I was his Valentine. Talk about melting my heart.

Aside from the house and loving my children beyond comprehension...I've been gearing up for some volunteer work at my church. In the next couple of weeks, I will be coordinating Financial Peace University. It's been 5 years since I/we took this 13 week course and it has completely changed the way that Kenny and I handle our finances. I wish that I could say that we haven't made mistakes since taking the course, but that would be a lie. However, we're back on track and I'm looking forward to helping other families along their journey as well.

Well, I guess that's about it for now. I can't believe that I haven't posted anything for so long. I guess that I've been busier than I realized. Still...that is no excuse. I am hoping to post some "after" pictures of the house very soon so as to document what I've been busy/distracted with. Stay tuned.

Maxed Out

I just watched Maxed Out via Netflix's "Watch It Now" feature. Seeing that I love great documentaries, it was inevitable that I would enjoy this one. Especially since it merges my enthusiasm for documentaries with my passion for becoming debt free once again. I guess you could say that I once again have drank the Kool-Aid and shaved my head when it comes to Dave Ramsey and Financial Peace University. Anyway, I heard Dave talking about this on one of his radio broadcasts and had the chance to check it out this afternoon. Definitely Two Thumbs Up and a strong recommendation to all my friends and family.




Movie review: 'Maxed Out'
By Kevin Crust Chicago Tribune March 22, 2007


Creditors knocking at your door? Up to your eyeballs in credit card debt? Besieged by offers for even more credit cards despite your inability to keep up with the ones you already have? Wondering how this is even possible?


Filmmaker and author James Scurlock wants to tell you in the timely documentary "Maxed Out," a biting critique of the credit card industry. Drawing on the stories of individuals from across the country, Scurlock etches a bleak view of the state of personal debt while taking aim at the predatory strategies of lenders, the entrepreneurial enthusiasm of collection agencies and the cozy relationships between govern-%ment and major financial institutions.


Americans, if you haven't heard, are racking up personal debt in record numbers. Reportedly, the average family has more than $9,000 in credit card debt. It seems that it has become a staple of the evening news to rattle off statistics such as these as financial gurus like Suze Orman ply us with promises of money makeovers and admonish us to repent or else.


So while the premise of "Maxed Out" may not surprise, some of the details will. Scurlock connects the dots between major banks and their practices in targeting those most vulnerable--college students, the elderly, the previously bankrupted--and makes a compelling case that something needs to be done. Many stories depicted are tragic, and some are plain strange. For a film dealing with numbers, it's surprisingly nimble, balancing interviews with people who have been personally affected and financial experts, members of the finance industry and even a surprisingly sympathetic pawnbroker. Scurlock does well to counter the film's more dire aspects with a razor-sharp sense of humor.The most troubling facet of the world depicted in "Maxed Out" is that it's yet another avenue from which the nation's wealth flows from the poorest to the richest. It's easy to dismiss the problem as one of personal responsibility--especially if you're debt-free--but everyone should be worried about the two-tiered economic structure it fosters, one in which there is no room for a middle class.

No End In Sight

Kenny and I watched "No End In Sight" last night. We definitely have a greater understanding of how the situation in Iraq came to be. Sad indeed...

I Don't Need No Stinking Instructions

I can barely tap the keys on my laptop without wincing in pain. But I just had to post that WE ARE DONE! We chipped away at the last section of mortar after about 8 hours of labor. Even though I'm sore and tired, the sense of accomplishment was worth it.

I have to admit though, about 7 hours into our chip-fest, Kenny noticed that the chisel blade wasn't put in the right way. I had it upside down. Oops! Needless to say, he shot me a look of dissatisfaction. And boy did flipping that chisel around make a difference. The mortar came up so much easier once the chisel was in the right way. My arms were actually being pelted by the mortar once the chisel was installed right. Geez, you'd think that Kenny would have noticed that YESTERDAY. What was he thinking, leaving such monumental decisions to a woman? Man, you'd think that he actually trusted me and believed that I knew what I was doing! Men...I tell you.

If that weren't bad enough, as we were heading back to Home Depot to return the chipping hammer, I noticed on the pages behind the rental receipt were the instructions for the chipper. Seems that there is a control lever on that piece of equipment.... Level 1-2: Plaster and drywall. Level 3: Tile Removal. Level 4: Masonry. Level 5-6: Concrete. Yeah...needless to say, I had it set to level 1. Once again, I wonder how much faster and easier this job could have been had I taken the time to actually read the instructions.

Feeling a bit guilty about this whole ordeal in hindsight, I tried to convince Kenny that it was worth it considering that we had put our own sweat into the project. I asked him if he felt the same sense of accomplishment as I did and whether or not he would do it again. I believe his reply was, "Let's see, I just gave up $500 worth of OT hours where I would have been doing something that is 10 times less strenuous...and I could have watched the playoffs while working that OT....hmmm, I'm not sharing your enthusiasm." Of course, he was teasing...I think. Well, at least he said it with a smile on his face. He is a good man, my husband. He supports my crazy endeavors time and time again. He even put about 4 loads of laundry away this morning. I don't know what I did to deserve such dedication and support, but he sends it my way time and time again. Even when I neglect to read the instructions.

I can do this...no problem.

We started working on our house this week. The drywall guys came and raised up a 2 foot ledge to be a half wall in our dining room. They also repaired the water damaged drywall on the ceiling in one of the bedrooms. Later next week, they will come back to finish one other small project that we need for a future flat screen tv.

The only thing left is the flooring, paint and a good cleaning. My theory was to at least remove the tile downstairs before painting so that we wouldn't have to clean the walls twice; once before painting and once after the tile is removed (very dusty job). So, we got a couple of quotes on the tile removal....I was floored, no pun intended. One place wanted $3/sf and the other wanted $2/sf. Considering that we have over 600 sf, that was $1,200 that I had not budgeted for in our flooring. So to keep expenses down, I figured that it wouldn't be that difficult to just do the removal ourselves....what a mistake that idea was.

My brother in law laid tile in the past, so I called him up and got a few pointers from him. We then headed down to the tool rental area at Home Depot and rented a chipping hammer, which is basically a hand-held jack hammer. Yesterday, the goal was to remove that 600 sf in one day. In fact, I originally was going to do it all myself. I'm pretty handy and never shy away from do-it-yourself types of projects. But 2 hours into it, Kenny decided to take off from work and come help me. He must have felt sorry for me and my stubborn tendencies.

For the next 5 hours, we chipped away at the tile. Most all of it is up as of this morning. We only have a few more spots around the walls to remove. What remains now is the mortar. So essentially, we are going to have to go back over all 600 sf of the floor so that it is level and smooth.

I don't think this would be such an issue if I were 10 years younger. In fact, I know that we probably could have knocked out the entire project in one day if we were both 10 years younger. But as I sit here this morning looking over all the wounds on my legs and arms from the flying tile....as I feel the pain in my aching hands, arms, knees, back and chest, I'm dreading the task at hand. Ironically, I'm glad that we're doing it. Putting my own blood & sweat into the house has given me a sense of ownership more so than just having the keys. Even Jason busted out a handful of tiles yesterday and is ready to go again this morning. I'm sure that he'll remember this project for the rest of his life. I know I certainly will. In fact, I'll remember this as the one and ONLY time that I ever busted up tile. Any future tile work we decide to take on will only include the labor of my hand signing the check to pay whomever we hire. Believe me when I tell you that these people earn every single penny of what they charge.

Justin, I have a new found respect for you.

Home Sweet Home

Kenny and I signed papers at the title company yesterday. It's official: we're homeowners here in Texas. I wonder if this officially makes us Texans....nah. But it does allow us someplace more permanent to hang our hats. A place to customize to our liking. I'm already picking out paint colors and flooring. It's exciting, but not as exciting as when we bought our first home in Reno. There was something magical about our first home purchase....almost like a dream realized. Anyway, the next chapter is about to begin for us here in the Lone Star State.

I believe that I mentioned before (at least in our Christmas newsletter) that I would be posting before and after pictures of the house. I've already got a slide show set up with before pictures. Once we get started, I'll start posting more. In fact, I may even post on the go with my newest electronic gadget: the Treo 755. Most everyone knows that I'm a gadget/electronics junkie. So when my cell phone finally pooped out, Kenny surprised me with a Blackberry. I wasn't too thrilled with the cost associated with having a Blackberry, but could accept those associated with the Treo. Plus, I'm able to run an updated version of my beloved HandyShopper software on it. Yeah, I know....I'm a nerd.

On another note, it looks as though 2008 is off to a running start as far as church ministries. If everything goes as I expect it to, I'll be facilitating Financial Peace University at the Keller campus of our church. In addition to that, it looks as though the Women's Adventure Retreat is in need of a coordinator.....so I'll step into that roll as well. To be quite honest, I'm scared to death. Already, the self doubt and fear is setting in. But that's the beauty of my faith....when I step out to do something knowing full well that it can't be done of my own strength, but can be done only through submission to my Lord. I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me. Phil 4:13.

As for today, we've got a basketball game to watch this morning as Jason and his buddy Boston play their first game in this new sport. They already rock as baseball players....let's see if they can dominate another sport. (I'm not a proud mother or anything.) Then, we're off to the house to allow the boys to pick their bedrooms. After that, who knows. Maybe Lowes to pick more paint swatches, maybe back home to start boxing up stuff, maybe we'll just take the day off and enjoy a movie. Regardless of what it is, I guess it's time to actually get it started.