"Fast Cars and Freedom"

     Mike and I went to the marriage seminar at our church.   We thought we'd heard it all, but the BBQ dinner is what threw it over for us to attend :)  What really matters is WHERE your heart is WHEN you hear it.  We enjoyed every minute and will have work to do forever I suppose. 
     The story of Hosea was used as an illustration.  I'd be his Gomer.  My life would be so utterly different without the grace bestowed on me.  How easily I forget.  Oftentimes, I'm bothered by things like him eating the candy from the table the whole time, him knowing fullwell what the doctors said only 4 days ago.  On top of that, he ate all the candy that I liked.  He said there were some on the tables behind us, and I'll be doggone if someone else didn't go through and swipe all of them during the break!  I didn't need them anyway.  I was trying to sit up straight the whole time so my belly didn't hang out any more than it had to.
     It was interesting to learn about "love languages" and to figure out which ones he and I appreciate.  When he was wooing me back, oddly one of the things I appreciated most was when he made my coffee for me.  I'm not sure why, but it tickled me pink.  One morning he was walking around in the kitchen upstairs and I screamed at him to stop and he did, for good.  That's what happens when we scold someone who's trying to change.  He hasn't made my coffee since.  I apologized to him for that.  We have so much to do and learn, it's as though we just got married.  That's why it's so important to us to raise children who know better than to do what we have.
     About the time they started the segment on parenting, the engines fired up at the drag strip down the road.  I'd be all happy about how much I agreed on what we were hearing, when I'd look over at Mike and know he was grinning mischievously about the engine roar. 
     We went straight to the strip afterwards.  They were finishing up, so it was free.  You folks who don't think Christians have any fire are wrong.  Mike and I still both like fast cars.  It's just finally sunk in that there's more to life.
     You "ain't" been on much of a ride 'til you've taken my Daddy's Shelby GT500 SVT Cobra up I-285 in Atlanta!  What a rush.  He'd let me take it out when we were visiting.  The breather vents on the hood let out a hiss like a jet taking off.  I'd still be spinning the tires in 4th. 
     The convertible GT Mustang Mike bought me for Mother's Day was a pretty sweet ride, too.  A few years later, the GTO  he got within 24 hours of buying our Yukon was an incredibe ride; nothing around could stop it until that fateful night:  the cold December night I walked up the long hill lined with stopped traffic, 7 months pregnant.  I found the ambulance and stepped into it but gasped when I saw that a child was in there with Mike.  I immediately turned around and walked out.  I didn't know how to react.
     The little boy with a feared collapsing lung and his sister with a broken ankle ended up okay.  Their mother was not.  She couldn't be taken further than the local hospital because her internal bleeding was so terrible.  Actually, when I tried to find out about her, the staff was confused because her bleeding had made her appear pregnant, but "I" was pregnant.  I think she suffered similar injuries to the ones Mike had after his lithotripsies.  She's scarred but thank God she lived ...and is one of my Facebook friends.
     Mike's bones in his foot were broken in half and his shoulder joint, tendons, muscles and all were completely disconnected from his body, only skin holding the front of his arm on.  After 6 months in a wheelchair, he went back to his hauling business.
     We've had our "go".  Some people haven't and think they're missing something.  If missing something is being strapped to $600+ car payments, then have at it.  But let me tell you, it's not worth it.  If you're "dying" to drive something, go find a rental.  That's what Mike does now.  The Harley dealership knows him by name.  It's about that time for him to hop on one and go.
     He had a Honda Hurricane when I met him.  My mom told me I'd better never get on that thing.   I was a wild one and you know I did.  We'd ride to the lake.  The wind made me feel like no one existed but him and me.  But we know our secrets will be found out, so one night I "wiggled" and we laid it down.  The only real injury I had was a blue backside.  I had to sit on pillows at school for weeks. 
     I always was a sucker for "fast"!  Although, I might've liked cruising around in his Dad's old '69 Chevy truck even better.  The country song, "Sounds So Good," brings flashbacks.  Mike and I were hard and heavy.  And we paid for it.  We still do.  We're both head strong, passionate, fierce; but instead of facing the world, we turned it on each other.  We need all the conferences we can get to correct the habits we've formed.  Although I've known for lots of years what a wife should be, I've had my limits and fired back when I should've trusted my Saviour to be my defense.
     So, here was this man standing close beside me, leaning on the rail at the drag strip where years ago, he'd taken "my" Mustang and a friend's bike down.  He was sober.  His eyes were on me.  His words were pure.  He humbly drove me there in a dated Diamante he just paid cash for.  He's so changed that he'd drive it into the front parking space anywhere.  He'd just taken me to a marriage seminar.  He opened the car door for me when we left and thankfully I remembered not to walk around, like I did a while back when I thought he wanted me to drive home!  He had on and keeps on Christian radio, not for me ...but because He's found freedom in something besides fast cars and fast times. 

Try On

     So every now and then, you gotta have a "try on".  Now, for women who have to dress up to get out every day, I guess it comes around more often.  I've been putting it off for a long, long time.  But when I weighed and had lost a couple more pounds, I had confidence to "just do it".  By the way, obedience will do that for you - give you confidence! 
     It started with bathing suits; we're supposed to go on vacation to Panama City soon.  We haven't been to the ocean in 7 years.  We haven't had anything more than a weekend stint here or there since.  I tried on the suit I wore the last time we went, when Macklynn was 1 year old.  Oh my, that was 30 pounds ago!  I won't be able to pull that one off.  I'll not be discouraged though, because there's still our 24th anniversary, July 1.  There's my 42nd birthday at the end of July.  Actually, there's whenever God wills it for me.  Why is it we think we can put God's timing on a calender?
     I wear white pants in the summer.  Along with holey jeans, they're my version of shorts.  I put on my white Polo chinos and couldn't even touch the button to the button hole.   Problem is I wore them to the NRA Convention in Charlotte 2 summers ago!  Wait a minute, I only weigh 8 more pounds.  I have a theory: since I don't have a baby to nourish, my estrogen levels have swung.  Then, there's the fact that I am in my 40s, but my cycle hasn't changed enough to excuse myself with it.  THEN, I can't dismiss that I stopped excercising altogether last year after I had 4 injuries.  My muscle has deterioted and fat has taken its place.  And not just regular fat but the lumpy kind.  I still attribute some of that to the blood thinners I was on with both of the last pregnancies.  Cellulite just "appeared" on the front of my legs then. 
     Speaking of cellulite, I found some old bottles of a "smoothing" agent to use between now and the beach, but you and I know it's just a quick fix.  Our next door neighbor brought over all kinds of homeopathic cream samples from her employer.  I'll use those because a woman can use all the help there is.  I battle acne continually.  I have so many stretch marks and wild hairs that I could easily become disheartened.  My hair is turning white in the temples.  I don't wear make-up or fix my hair for the same reasons I did when I was a young woman.  I'm just trying to be presentable, to not scare anybody off ;)
     But being fit is different - this is my LIFE we're talking about.  Then again, it's not my life nor my body.  It's Christ's, then my husband's.  Yes ladies, it is:   "The wife hath not power of her own body, but the husband: and likewise also the husband hath not power of his own body, but the wife," ~ 1 Corinthians 7:4.  I have failed miserably at this.  And whoever draws out the verse, "For bodily exercise profiteth little: but godliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come," ~ 1 Timothy 4:8, isn't validating much.  Of course, doing God's work trumps exercising (and everything, for that matter), but who "works" at all anymore?
     Our work will be in the yard for several days.  I'm spending this weekend camping on the front porch with the kids.  I'm basking by the pond because we all know tan fat is nicer than white fat.  I intend to bathe and blog and concentrate on "feeling pretty".  Women know what I'm talking about.  If we don't "feel" pretty, pretty doesn't mean anything.  Michael's waiting for me right now to trim a tree to my liking.
     He's been advised to gain weight for the upcoming football season.  We weighed the same a month ago!  He and I made a pact: a trade off of minds and bodies.  I give him all I have in math.  He gives me all he has in fitness.  I love it, the comradery of my son.  I hope you'll pray that we have success.  We Harpers have decided we need to step it up, more kindness and more discipline.  We can all always give more, so get out there and "just do it". 
    
   

Something about K

     People remember McKala.  Today she was told her childhood librarian mentioned her lately.  I was on the phone this past week with our newly elected NC State Representative.  Her granddaughter played basketball with McKala, and Rep. Turner called her by name.  I know some are just good with names, but McKala has a presence that leaves people with an impression.  She is immovable.  She is someone whom everyone can depend on.  She means what she says and backs it up. 

     She rubs some people wrong.  I've narrowed it down to the reflection they get of themselves when mirrored off her.  She has no trouble believing The Word of God.  She has no trouble defending it.  Her confidence can portray itself as arrogance.  Grace isn't easy for everyone.  Truth be told, it's awfully difficult to be grace"full" with people who have it all and are in irreverent disregard of God's ways and blessings.

     She cuts to the chase.  She works hard.  She can do more than most grown women are capable of or willing to do.  She's a rock.  But every now and then, she confuses her opinions, right as they may be, with moral grounds.  She got on one of those kicks last week and I cut her down to size.  In so doing, I said I thought with all she'd been through, she'd have done away with that.   I don't know exactly how I put it, but she was left feeling like I said she's deserved to be so sick, as if she's gain no humility from it.  She's cried more than once over it since, which is hard for me to witness because I know how much gravity it must hold to happen.

     To the left, sleeping with her dying calf under a heat lamp, in the fall of 2011, she lost 3 of her 4 calves she'd bought. She suffered right alongside them.  In the spring of 2012, she was First Base for her travel softball team.  Their sponsorship fell through and she lost something else she cherished.  Those same months she raised money and prepared to volunteer at Uplands Reach last summer.  It's a Christian camp, not your run of the mill, but with high behavioral and work ethics.  She's always loved horses and was to help be in charge of them; I'm not sure she'd ever been that excited about anything.  They'd even mentioned sending her out West for extensive training.

     She was put on an inhaler in late 2011.  I was shocked that it wasn't a "passing thing".  McKala was born strong.  She even had hamstring muscles when she was a toddler.  She literally only got sick about half the times that the other kids did.  I began to wonder if she'd contracted something from the calves and had her tested for Tb.  I still wonder, just like I do about whether or not Macklynn had West Nile Virus when he was paralyzed (afterall they'd just left The Florida Keys).  She knew she was already declining in softball before it ended, but held high hopes for camp.

     We didn't know that it would rain almost daily the summer of 2012.  We didn't know she was allergic to mold and how much she'd be exposed to, and that we'd also find it at home.  We didn't know it would take such a toll that they would find one of their hardest workers all but passed out in front of the fans for the horse ring.  We didn't know that her oxygen levels would drop and drive up her pulse.   We didn't know that she'd have to come home. 

     One of the camp owners had taken me aside and told me how different McKala was.  She told her later that she compares her in character to her own daughter.  This is what McKala wanted to do with her life.  Instead, she was on bed rest (sleeping over 15 hours a day) while we waited, as Mike was losing his business, for Medicaid to kick in so that she could be tested.
     Sure enough, she's become allergic to a good many things, thankfully not to the animals themselves.  She showed improvement once she was on a course of medicines.  In December though, the whole family came down with something, which we now firmly believe was The Whooping Cough.  Don't confuse that with The Croup.  I mean "The Whooping Cough".  No one was well again until February.  McKala took the brunt of it.  There were nights that she would wake up coughing so violently that she would vomit and the pressure would cause her nose to bleed.  It was pitiful.  We were told she had pneumonia. 
     Of course, she relapsed in progress after missing her allergy shots for 6 weeks because of her weakened state.  Then in March during a consultation, I insisted on more blood work but not for what we found.  She tested positive for Walking Pneumonia.  It disguises its mutated self as a virus; therefore, customary antibiotics don't destroy it and if left undetected, it has the ability to kill.
     The suspicion is that she's had it since December.  She was given 2 antibiotics.  One has 2 weeks left.   I told a couple of people tonight that I'm about ready to have her anointed with oil.  It is Biblical, you know.  
     You see, there's no way she "deserved" this.  That's like saying the 19 month old child we know deserves her brain cancer.  We all learn through suffering, but what McKala has taught us is how to suffer well.  She is Philippians 4: 11-13.  The doctor has to prod her with questioning to get details.  She's smiling when she must feel like her world is caving.

     Guess what, her testimony is stronger for it.  She put in writing herself.  Her empathy for others is stronger.  There's no possible way to know others' pain without going through it.  Her will is stronger.  Satan would have her lame and useless.  She won't settle for that destiny. 

      Before, she would walk faster than us all.  She could raise the roof with her voice.  She'd volunteer in a heartbeat for a good cause.   She'd love babies and children until there were no more.  She'd cook and clean to perfection.  She'd enjoy weed eating and all the great outdoors.  She always, since she was little, got up first and got dressed nicely for the day.  She's always smiled and been resilient to no end.  And some people can't stand her for it.  But I know the image they see of themselves when projected off her.  God is in her, plain and simple.

     She's lost her efficacy at most things, yet there is a young man who has grown to love her for her heart in midst of her sickness.  It gives definition to "in sickness and in health".  He's known her in health also; he's been a family friend since she was 7 years old.  They talk of their future.  He's asked her to his senior prom.  She has something to be excited about again.   For most of us, "The Prom" is nothing more than an opportunity to get away with the worst, but for McKala it will be a time to shine, to be prim and proper, or silly and sassy.  Whatever it is for her, I thank him for it ...and for loving my daughter, when so many things she loves have slipped through her fingers.  And I can't blame him; there's something about K. 
     And for you, K, "Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ." ~ Philippians 1:6.

What'll It Be?

     Friday morning we ran the routine for a spontaneous road trip:  dishes and laundry up, trash and food out.  Michael and I finished off the deviled eggs Melody made from the ones they'd colored.   No, we don't "hunt" eggs, but I ease up enough to let them color some.   Since we secured the help of friends to feed the animals, we left easy.  What kind of friends feed your animals on Easter Sunday?  The best. 
     I so seldomly have to drive in the morning that I didn't consider how much I'd need my sunglasses.  I'm gonna give my husband due props here for making it possible for me, to be home about the business of the household every morning. 

     Mike decided it was time to venture down south to our parents and eldest daughters.  We surprised both girls by showing up where they work.  Megan was at lunch, so the dealership staff called to tell her she had an irate customer in service and to get straight back.  Poor thing, her hands were trembling from stress when she returned, mostly because there was an accident out front and she was afraid it was from work she'd advised.  Miranda stopped short of tackling us when we came through the entrance of the restaurant she serves in.  We hadn't seen our girls at these workplaces, so it was a treat for us all.

     We got right into the thick of things when we arrived at Memaw and Pop's.  Mike, Michael, and Pop went straight to work on replacing our brakes.  Memaw and Melody started a cake.  Macklynn and Madalynn had the toys from the closet drug out in minutes.  Soon, some of them were fishing, but not before Madalynn ran full force into the glass door.  She's a tough one; she just bounced off, paused long enough for us look at her red forehead, and kept going.  

     We slept with the window open.   Saturday morning Miranda jumped in our bed.  We didn't know she had texted McKala to let her late after she got off work.  Mike and Memaw took the older kids on a search for prom garb for McKala and Michael.  What better place to do it than in the Atlanta area?  Success!   Meanwhile, Pop rode Macklynn and Madalynn around on the 3 Wheeler he restored from the time Mike and his sister, Mandy, rode it. 

     When we all converged, Pop showed Michael how to use his lathe.  That's where the baton of heritage is passed on and was worth the whole trip. 

     When Megan got off work, she eagerly took Mike, McKala, and me to a special service at the church she and Miranda attend.  She had also invited Mom and Dad.  Since they didn't know we were even in the state, they too were surprised!   Everything there was contemporary for sure, but the sermon was straightforward and faithful to The Word that if we have been "rescued" by The Cross, then we will be "rescuing" others. 

     Sunday morning we went early for the traditional service at Memaw and Pop's church in Peachtree City.  I was greeted immediately by a woman with nothing but compliments for my blog.  I need to apoligize now for the oversights I make before I post.  Oftentimes, I drop and run, not realizing how many people are reading.  Anyhow, I really, really enjoyed having all the kids in a row and getting to sing "He Lives" ..." Because he lives I can face tomorrow, Because he lives all fear is gone, Because I know he holds the future, And life is worth the living just because he lives."  (The last sentence makes me want to rename my blog :)  I don't like organ music, even so I can't for the life of me figure out why "contemporary, worship oriented" churches can dismiss the magnitude of a song like that.  It's truly a shame.  And our kids agree.

     Memaw prepared some great food.  Mandy and Gregg showed up with some more.  We adults haven't all sat together for a meal in a long time and it was very nice considering we almost lost one of us a few weeks ago to what would've been a "widow maker".  

     The kids sped over to "Bubba's Pond" to get in some real fishing time.  Bubba is Mike's closest friend and has been since they were 15 years old.  Mike and I spent a good bit of time there when we were dating.  Bubba's pretty daughters were also there Sunday; so everyone, especially Michael, was happy.  They've all been friends since they were as young as Macklynn and Madalynn.  

     We pulled them together in time to be "fashionably late" to Mom and Dad's.  Good food is always found there, so is some kind of fun in the garage.  Melody, Macklynn, and Dad played pool for hours and came back in time to watch the sobering final episode of "The Bible" on The History Channel.  

     Monday we straightened and gathered to leave for North Carolina.  Madalynn was still out following Pop's cats in the fish pond garden.  It was a relief not to be on constant guard of a toddler, but she kept me on my toes because she moved about so much, comfortable in her surroundings.  

     We stopped by Megan's work again because Madalynn left her stuffed cat on Megan's bed when we got to see their place for the first time.  Macklynn said, "I can tell this is Megan's bed because of how it smells." ~ sweet!  I found on her bookshelf the book I've been looking for for 6 months!   Macklynn found his fishing pliers in her car door.  Melody left her makeup in Miranda's car Saturday, so she brought it to her at some crazy hour Saturday night and then took McKala to buy something for church she'd intended to get until "we showed up".  It was all fun until they noticed a guy following them.  
    Going through Atlanta, "The Varsity" was a given.  "What'll ya have?  What'll ya have?" is a tradition.  Mike, blind to the events that would take place a few hours later, took a picture to post of his onions rings and 3 chili dogs.  He kindly got all the kids Coke instead of water.  It was a miserable mistake because the little ones were rambunctious all ...the ...way ...home.   I remembered how nice it was to have the TV in the new Sienna we had.  Though, I'd be an idiot not to appreciate how great it is not to have a payment on our '05 Caravan.  Hey, a minivan's a minivan to me.  It ain't never gonna be a Challenger SRT ;)
     Suddenly, one of the kids realized that "NONE OF THE ADULTS HAD ARGUMENTS ON THIS TRIP!"  Okay, maybe you don't know us, but take my word on this, THAT'S a big deal.  We had to admit that Mike's way worked. 

      As good as the trip was, Mike's neck hurt along his Carotid Artery the entire time.  We decided he should stop by Urgent Care before we went on home.  I hadn't even returned with supper, when they had him transported by ambulance ACROSS THE STREET to the ER.  I told them in no uncertain terms that it wasn't necessary.  The paramedics and ER doctor agreed.
     So, here we are, admitted into a room.  I've had time to cover more of C. S. Lewis's "The Screwtape Letters", written in 1942.  It's not an "easy read".  I think I'll narrate it to the kids, so they can get the most out of it.  It's a wouldbe playbook for the devil himself.  It shows how subtlely he makes us ineffective.  How foolish we are! 
     There's a letter fired specifically toward gluttony.  Screwtape tells his protege, "One of the great achievements of the last hundred years has been to deaden the human conscience on that subject, so that by now you will hardly find a sermon preached or a conscience troubled about it in the whole length and breadth of Europe."  "She would be astonished - one day, I hope, 'will' be - to learn that her whole life is enslaved to this kind of sensuality ...to produce querulousness, impatience, uncharitableness, and self-concern?"  "The real value of the quiet, unobtrusive work which Glubose has been doing for years on this old woman can be guaged by the way in which her belly now dominates her whole life."
      I think the worst thing about blatantly and willfully remaining in our sin is it gives the impression to people, especially younger ones, that because we appear not to pay for it that it's somehow overlooked.  You know, each of us knows someone who smoked 'til they were 92 or drank 'til they were 85 or was fat 'til they were 73.  Do we believe that a passivist sinner is better than activist one?  Of course, we do.

     So, now Mike's had all the tests.  He's all right but is a prime candidate for things that won't be "all right".  What'll it be, Mike?  What'll it be?  As far as that goes, what'll it be, Michelle?  What'll it be? 

"Swallowing the Ocean"

     That's how I feel today, like I could "swallow the ocean".  We saw that song performed live not long ago, and I loved it.  This morning a flood of thoughts came to me, so I've been furiously jotting them down to spill them out here.
     I'm "done" with the facade that most homeschoolers wear.  I do wear a mask for naysayers.  It shuts up dissenters when I say that I have an acceptance letter to Georgia Tech.  Mind you, it was for the summer quarter because of my SAT score.  I simply didn't study for it.  I was busy planning my wedding.  I was smart enough then to know that I shouldn't set sail on a new marriage and an engineering degree at the same time. 
     However, that story doesn't exhort mothers who are second guessing the ability to teach their own children.  We have to tell the truth, the messy truth.  Defensiveness has no place when we're dealing with our "sisters". 
     I may keel over if I see one more website with cutesy ideas for homeschooling.  I avoid conferences for materials altogether.  Listen, this is a lifestyle.  It's not a "project" to see how many activities we can mark off.  It's not a competition to replicate institutions. 
     We're raising warriors here.  That's what it will take to thrive in a morally cowering society.  We have no Biblical mandate to send our children onto the battlefield.  I had a school superintendent tell me and two other moms that the system needs children of character.  When the system kicked out God, it voided itself of character; therefore, my children are under no obligation to fix what it broke itself.  I've heard harsh testimony from two women recently of how they were raised in Christian homes, considered themselves to be Christians, and still wound up performing the unimaginable.  How can there be "home training" when no one is home? 
     Why are we homeschoolers trying to "fit in"?  Don't you know that our children will "give in" if they do?  Teach them to set the standard.  We need children who will rise to occasion.  As I wrote a few months ago, the "American Dream" was never viable for Christians to begin with.  Now, it's almost impossible for anyone.  As I spoke with a neighbor this morning, she talked about human trafficking.  Are we raising young men and women who will sacrifice their time and abilities to end such evil?  Or are we taking them to practice and birthday parties, never talking about the hard stuff?  Don't sugar coat things; tell them the truth about everything, about temptations, about abuses, about your past.  They won't be able to see the miracles in life if they never knew the truth of how bad things were to start with.
     Don't keep secrets.  Tell them about the finances.  Don't allow them to feel "entitled", even for the sake of education.  Don't be their maid, and don't pay them for things they ought to do.  Don't do things for them; do things with them!  Apologize often.  Say, "I don't know," when you don't and look it up with them.  Spend one on one time with each child.  Today I was walking up the driveway from the mailbox in a rush to finish things in the house.  Madalynn caught me and said, "Let's sit on the wellhouse together."  I didn't really "want" to, but I did.  Once I relaxed, I saw all the things that need to be done and was "oh so" tempted to hop off and grab a rake.  BUT I sat there and talked with Madalynn because it was the right thing to do.  5 minutes of undivided attention to a little person can mean everything. 
     Discipline them consistently, or you'll not have an environment to teach in.  Spank them properly when they're young, and you'll save yourself and society a world of grief.  Tackle the tough stuff.  Teach them to deny themselves, because only then are they useful for charity.  "Above all things put on charity ..." ~ Col 3:14.  Notice the KJV says "charity" not "love".  Love means a lot of things to a lot people.  Charity is specifically a selfless action.  Teach them to VOLUNTEER and for goodness' sake, or should I say, "for God's sake", don't have them do it to get their picture in the paper, or to go on a mission trip to nail in a few nails and run off to have fun, or to check it off for some badge.  Don't just go on field trips all the time; get involved. 
     Teach them to WORK hard, that no matter how far they go in life that nothing is "beneath" them.  Teach them to work for others, for the community, in the church.  Teach them to SERVE each other.  Teach them to get their hands dirty, literally.  Teach them that suffering well is a beautiful thing.  Teach them that suffering is part of their walk and to embrace its lessons when they come.  They'll never be deep, if they live a shallow life - apart from suffering and her instruction.  Teach them to be SELF RELIANT, to manage and to protect themselves.  Teach them some of everything.
     Tell the children what they "can" do, not just what they can't.  Tell them making love is a wonderful thing and to wait for it.  Tell them they can think for themselves.  Tell them they can try something new.  Tell them they can "do all things".  Then, tell them to beckon God's will in those things.
      Hold them accountable to self-denial.  Praise them when you notice growth that only you can see.  Praise them and praise God when they subdue natural desires.  Whatever you do, don't center their education around them.  Let them be part of the mission their parents are on.  Let them see their parents sacrifice for each other.  Travel with them.  Do things; don't just read about them.  Don't you know what Ecclesiastes says about belaboring things?  Don't teach them to read material just for the sake of reading.  Have they read "Foxe's Book of Martyrs"?  Have they read "The Screwtape Letters"?   Don't dumb them down.  Don't make them hate the very thing you're devoting yourself to. 
     Anything on the school desk beyond The Holy Bible, The United States Constitution, a multiplication chart, and a dictionary is icing.  Choose it well.  Fluff doesn't breed spiritual giants.  Moments of relativity do.  Hold the vigil for times like these which give you access to the heart and mind of your child.  Teach them that it's not always about "choosing the lesser of two evils but the greater of two goods".  Teach them that "OBEY" is not a bad word.  Don't let them be sloppy when they can do better. 
    Teach them that when they have grown into reliability/trustworthiness, that it's nothing to be proud of, but rather to give thanks to God for.  Teach them that the devil will readily trip them up with their arrogance so that they are of no example to anyone.
     There is ebb and flow in learning.  If your child isn't a natural at the things you are, then watch in awe as they bloom where they're planted.  If your child isn't an intellectual, don't disapprove of the way God created them.  If your child isn't "normal", cheer for joy because his life won't be mundane. 
     Don't be too dignified to play.  PLAY and be silly with your babies, no matter how old they are.  Make the work worth doing.  Don't worry over what you will do and how you will do it.  God will put things in your path that he wants your family to do.  Don't kid yourself that you're irreplaceable in your career.  Don't kid yourself that yourself replaceable in raising your children.  Don't believe that someone else loves your children the way you do. 
     If you have no joy or purpose or passion, reevaluate.  Don't live by a list.  Live by priorities.  Perfect can only be done if it's done in peace.
     The "don'ts" are so very much for us.  The "dos" are so very much for them.  Do let them explore; do let them cook; do let them sing; do let them repair; do let them create; do let them farm; do let them compete; do let them take risks; do let them take their time; do let them work things out; do let them explain ...all in an atmosphere of reverence.  Don't let them form close relationships with those who would carry them away from the truth.  Guard their bodies and their hearts.  When they are ready, you can unleash them on an unsuspecting world as breaths of fresh air.  Then, they will call you with stories of their witness and work.
     LIVE with your children.  Teach and train your children well. Grow as they grow; then, when you and I are old, we'll have few regrets.   
    

Surprises

     This morning I was reading Billy Graham's "Decision" magazine on the love seat when I got a surprise visit from a carload of Jehovah's Witnesses.  It seemed fitting to exchange the truth for their false doctrine.  The woman said she had too much reading material and didn't have time for mine.  The driver told me Billy Graham has 3 "tenets" that are wrong, one - that "hellfire" exists.  I told her the Book of Revelation said there is and that she's not to tamper with the Bible.  I told her I don't need "religion" to be saved, just the grace of Jesus.  I dropped my magazine in the seat of the car and walked back in the house.  When I returned outside, my magazine was on top of our car.  I was hoping the woman in the back seat could get her hands on it because she kept dipping her head down to see what I was saying.  I'm gonna pray for her ...and the other two.
     I had a follow up mammogram today and Melody needed to have her Christmas bicycle repaired, so she got it and the trash and a dog and two cats in the car.  The animals were due rabies vaccines.  When we got to the animal shelter for the shots, a man was leaving 5 puppies.  He said he'd given the rest of them away but had to be at the beach tomorrow.  Grrrr.
     The kids couldn't find the leash, so the county employee came to the car for the shots.  Felicia, the aloof barn cat, was no trouble.  Rusty, the beagle/bassett hound mix, doesn't like to be messed with but he surprised even me when he whipped himself around to bite.  Another woman came out and got him in a strangle hold long enough for the shot.  Meanwhile he wet everything within range.
     As she was about to release him into the crate where Cranny was also, the cat bolted and ran under the car.  He climbed into the motor and wouldn't budge.  There were 6 of us trying to coax him out, one with food.  Unbenounced to us, a guy slid under the car and swiftly grabbed him.  I apologized profusely, although she and I got such a kick out of it that we laughed all the way to the feed store to buy a muzzle for Rusty!
     On the way to the hospital, snow flurries floated in the air while the sun was shining.  It had been all day and Melody was impressed by it.  She waited while I got the x-rays that I was told were likely to be needed for clearer images.  On the 6th or 7th, the technician cleared her throat to another one and said she'd be back.  The radiologist ordered an ultrasound.  They measured, so I knew there was something. 
     The doctor said the cyst was smooth, consistent with a benign one.  BUT they can't risk not doing a biopsy.  Surprise!  I hadn't even given it any thought.  I could feel my face flushing but stayed composed and remembered this morning reading that Jesus told the disciples 3 things when he returned, "Fear not," "Bear witness," and "Receive power". 
     Here's the thing:  I'm not scared.  The fact that I still have young children bothers me most.  Else, I would deserve whatever became of me.  Funny how easy it is to believe otherwise, though.  I haven't been on hormone treatment/birth control since I was 19 years old.  I've nursed over 7 years, which supposedly leaves me virtually no chance of developing breast cancer.  I've been careful to use natural products (including deodorant) and eat unprocessed foods (avoiding nitrites), though I haven't remedied yet the dairy and meat products from steroid treated animals.  Even so, how would that explain my friend's niece, little 18 month old Mia's stage 4 Neuro Blastoma, brain cancer?
     While we were getting groceries, Melody found miniature pastel roses she wanted to surprise McKala with because she thought they'd look nice in her room.  When we got home with food, trash cans, animals, feed, and the bicyle; McKala had a surprise "get well" box from Megan and Miranda.  Today was a "score" for McKala!
     One more surprise was in store for me.  Not only had McKala been asked to the prom a few weeks ago; now Michael had also been asked to the same one.  He said they'd set a record for most homeschoolers at a prom in North Carolina.  Ha!  How it came together is a neat story.  They've all known each other since they were children and gone to camp together every summer.  I expect them to have a lot of fun at no expense to their faith.  Of course, that's not discounting for what kind of music will be played.    Unfortunately, it falls on a night that was planned for another significant event, the Right of Passage banquet we've committed to at church.  McKala has Walking Pneumonia and has been sick from her asthma for a solid year.  In that time, she hasn't looked forward to anything this much.  Mike and Michael had everything worked out before I even got home tonight, unaware of the imposing date of the occasion.  Honestly, I like the idea of the grouping.  Still, I dread explaining it to our pastor.  I hate to let people down, even when I believe the outcome will be okay.
     Here's to good outcomes altogether!
 

Resurrection: Easter Morning, March 23, 2008

     I know I've written some of it down, if not in blog form, in the formality of legal letters.  I don't know exactly where any of it is right now, so I'll recount as of present day memory. 
     In August 2007, Mike knew he had another kidney stone.  He hadn't been able to afford the increases of self employment health insurance premiums, so he didn't have any.  His Urologist gave him medicine and advice to help him pass it on his own. 
     January 2008, the pain was no longer controllable and Mike had reason to be concerned that the kidney was blocked.   He finally missed so much work that he could apply for Medicaid, which ended up paying almost $300,000.00 worth of bills.  Before the approval, the doctor went ahead and granted medical attention.  An 8 millimeter stone was hung halfway down the ureter, the tube from the kidney to the bladder. 
     They set up Sound Lithotripsy, external waves that break the stone apart.  It was the 14th procedure he'd had in 18 years.  It didn't work.  It left at least half the stone.  They used another procedure, Holmium Laser Treatment, where a tube is inserted up the urethra and a laser beam breaks the stone.  It didn't get enough of it, so they used the Basket Procedure to grab the remaining piece.
     Somewhere, somehow in the week of attempts, a hole was created in his ureter and the urine began accumulating in his scrotum, to the tune of softball size!  The nurses came from far and wide to observe.  Obviously, they had to find out the wheres and whys, so a CT Scan was ordered.  If not for IT, I wouldn't be telling this tale today.
     In the findings, the radiologist said that he "INCIDENTALLY" saw 3 AORTIC DISSECTIONS in the scan.  You might wanna look that up.  It's what happens before aneurysms, what the actor, John Ritter, dropped dead from on the set.   I didn't understand enough about anatomy then to know that the ureter and aorta lie parallel to each other or that there was any risk at all that the unimaginable could happen.  I regret now that I didn't cover it in the kind of prayer it needed.  I was so used to the hassle free outpatient treatments.
     Would you believe that a general surgeon was brought in, was convinced they were from Mike's car wreck in 2004, and released him to go home, AFTER I, myself, told him CT Scans with CONTRAST were done then and he'd had no internal injuries?!
      Guess what, Dr. Edmiston of Boone never even requested the accident records from Ashe Hospital!  He washed his and everyone else's hands of it and sent Mike on his way.  Within 2 weeks even though he was still heavily medicated with morphine, Mike knew something was wrong.  He was writhing in abdominal pain and losing sensation in his feet (from circulatory blockage caused by the aorta's internal lining caving in on itself).
     Madalynn was only 5 weeks old, so since after midnight was when he decided he had to go, Mike drove himself to the ER in Jefferson, NC.  A few hours later, he call me from LIFE FLIGHT.  He was being transported to Baptist. 
     I have all the records:  page after page of tests, results, notes, and procedures.  I don't want to misrepresent here, but I also don't have time to pour over them again.  All I know is Easter Sunday morning while at least 10 churches lifted him up in favor, that Dr. Geary, a premiere vascular surgeon at Wake Forest University, set out in his festive pink tie to place a stint in the aorta.  2 hours later, I got a call from the operating room.  It wasn't working.  They needed to replace his abdominal aorta and the iliacs. 
     Mike's parents were there and so was Madalynn because I was nursing.  God put His hand on her that day.  As I held her to my chest, she basically slept through the entire 9 hour surgery.  I pondered, "Would she even know her father?"  I went out on the rooftop patio beside the waiting room and performed one of those prayers I'll never forget.  I made one of those "deals" we make with God.  You see, Mike and I were heavily at odds with each other.  He'd been progressively dosed higher and higher levels of medication through the last 6 months of my pregnancy.  There are things about his pain I don't and can't understand.  All I understood was how it affected "us".  I told God I'd endure whatever the rest of my life held, if my children could have their father. 
     When the surgery was done, the generous doctor came to me to explain what he did, as 40 students observed at different intervals.  They cut Mike from the sternum to the pubic bone.  They jacked open his ribcage, set his intestines on the table, stopped his heart, and commenced work to replace his aorta, which lies perilously close to the spine.  They warned us that the surgery inherently causes nerve damage most of the time.  And it did, BUT he LIVED.    Dr. Geary drew a picture showing how badly Mike's aorta was damaged.  He said it was "riddled" with 21 to 24 mm dissections, the external lining (void of its internal lining) stretched to twice its normal size, ready to explode any minute.  There is no survival once the "explosion" happens.  Chances of survivability of the surgery, in and of itself, to prevent the rupture are very grim.
     Mike still says the most horrific part, a living nightmare, was coming back from anaesthesia breathing through what he termed a "straw".  In his delirium, he thought for sure he'd suffocate.  A couple of years later, he met a rare survivor of the same surgery and they BOTH agreed it was the most terrifying part of the ordeal. 
     Meanwhile, I was in a world of the surreal.  I was floating from room to room.  I didn't even know how serious it all was until it was over.
     Thank God, Mike's parents took over while I tried to figure out what to do with the children, who were at home 2 hours away.  I didn't have to.  The church did ...not even the church we attended, but the church Megan was visiting.  They arranged for payment to the hotel that shuttles to the hospital.  They paid our electric bill.  Another member bought us a box of groceries.  Another sent us a check. 
     Others anonymously left things on our doorstep.  Our elderly neighbors with limited income insisted that we accept $20 for gas.  It broke my heart; it still does.  It was such a witness to Mike ...and to the children.  By the way, when you share, don't ever dismiss what it does in the heart of a child.
     Mike suffered greatly.  He says it was torment in the following days.  They didn't believe that he required higher doses of pain killers.  They wouldn't take into consideration that he'd been on morphine for 6 months already and had developed a tolerance to it.  I hate that I wasn't present for him.  I had to return home with the children after 2 days, while his mother and father cared for him.  I can't really remember much more. 
     I do remember having the mattress ready downstairs by the fire place when he came home.  We spent many, many hours there: Mike, Madalynn, me, and whomever else could squeeze themselves in.  Megan took over; she was invaluable.  They all stepped up to the plate.  I also remember Miranda humbly offering the money in her meager account to help pay the mortgage.  When we faced the facts that Mike would miss a grand total of half a year from his work, we placed our house for sale and found an investment buyer within a month. The kids moved all the furniture, every piece of it, into the moving truck. 
     They walked away from everything they knew.  Megan left her flight instructor, a job she did well, a neighbor's private indoor arena she learned to ride and drive a team in, a new church family, and so much more.  Shy Miranda had just begun getting involved in all kinds of activities.  The 2 of them took the move the hardest.  We sold our beloved Boxer, Molly, and her puppies ...and gave away every other animal but Fiona, the starving kitten Mike brought home in a paper bag from the hardware store parking lot.  We sold everything we could do without: the 4 wheeler and the canoe, jewelry, artwork, furniture, yard and exercise equipment.  We left 12 acres of a "lifestyle":  riding trails, shooting ranges, campsites, stables and a BBQ pit they built by hand, sledding trails, and most of all the seasons - the fall leaves of our ridge, the snow that isolated us from the world, the rain showers and the mystique of the fog, and the mild summers closing out with rows of blackberries.  We didn't even have an air conditioner; we had an attic fan we turned on at night.  I can hear it pulling the air through the window now, blowing the curtains around and giving sweet sleep. 
     You know, I try not to recollect it too often because it makes me pretty teary to go back there.  I thank God for letting me raise my babies in His mountains.  It was never mine anyway.  It was His, then it was the bank's, and then mine.  Because the housing market didn't crash for a couple of more months (even so, we "lost" over $100K according to appraisal value, leaving from the meeting with just enough to make down payments for the move), there was nothing available to rent in our county that wasn't "seasonal".  We wound up in the city limits of Statesville on an .18 acre plot.
     We'd moved from a 3 story house, a storage building, and a barn.  We quickly realized we hadn't gotten rid of enough when we unloaded 3 picnic tables and 30 snow suits, as the neighbors in the subdivision peeked through their blinds.  The "Beverly Hillbillies" had surely arrived!  When the kids began target practice with their compound bows, it was ratified that the hillbillies were among them, indeed.
     God made room for us to do things in that place that I wouldn'tve imagined.  We were right next to a soccer complex with a stream running through it.  We caught crawdads there.  Michael "rescued" snakes from scared, board wielding neighbors. I mean, you can take us out of the country, but you can't take the country out of us.  There were sidewalks through the neighborhood, so Mike bought me a good stroller and I pushed Madalynn all over.  Before long, we discovered that McKala ought to babysit.  Miranda washed cars and cleaned houses.  Michael, at 11 years old, mowed every other lawn on the block and then some.
     We made the best of it and made the best of friends, Jami and Shawn.  We dejunked our lives.  He had a lot of complications, but Mike healed.  Madalynn grew.  I learned ...we all did. 
     The very day we were to sign the contract for another year, Mike checked the listings one last time.  You got it - he found this!  We drove up immediately.  I still can't get over God's providence.  I'm looking out a back window right now at trees in a hilly pasture, hearing the guinea and the rooster.  In the front is a small pond we fish and swim in, and play by on the small beach we've made.  Past that is a field where the kids built a fence for their calves, lined by a creek we wade through and float down in the summertime.  5 bedrooms and 7 acres, they're not "ours" and that doesn't matter.  God restored the "lifestyle" we thought was lost.  We even got a dog, a black Labrador.  Smokey's lived here his whole life.  He's only been off  the property 3 times and the owner didn't want to move him.  He's 15 now, a part of the landscape, and will be sorely missed when he's gone. 
     The day that Mike's life was given back to him was what I call his "physical resurrection."  His spiritual one was yet to come, but come it did.  For 3 years, I spoke with the most prominent attorneys in North Carolina about the deception involved in Mike's case, but it never made it to trial.  During that time, I wondered deep down if more money would just be another pit for us, wondered if there could be something "more." God knew that a life given to Him was surely "more" and so it happened, the thing I'd pleaded for earnestly for nearly half my life:  Mike finally turned himself over to his Father.
     Tonight, we'll go see the "Passion Play" together at our new church that's not very far from his new job; but unless they read this, they'll not know that 5 years ago today, Mike's body too was brought back to the living - that as he sits and watches the performance, 8 inches of Kevlar keep him alive.  And Jesus said, "ALL POWER IS GIVEN UNTO ME IN HEAVEN AND IN EARTH.  Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you:  and, lo, I AM WITH YOU ALWAY, even unto the end of the world.  Amen." ~ Matthew 28: 18-20.