'GET-REAL' ESTATE
My friend and I were discussing a house that had just been sold for an exorbitant amount of money. We were dissing it because we couldn’t buh-LIEVE it brought more money than we could ever dream of getting for our own, far superior, houses.
Talking trash on the telephone with my dear bud was also a good way to distract myself from the fact that my diet has been less than whiz-bang successful in recent weeks.
“It’s basically a three-bedroom ranch with a huge lower level,” she was saying. “Everyone KNOWS it’s not ATTRACTIVE to have most of your square footage on the LOWER LEVEL.”
Gulp. That one hit home. Today’s menu: celery and bouillon.
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Prayer request: We ask that a skin lesion removed from a friend’s dear daughter-in-law named Chris would prove to be nothing, and the threat of cancer would pass from her forever. Lord, thank You for making our skin such a wonderful and complex covering for our bodies. May each of us take better care of it and not take it for granted. (Ephesians 2:10)
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
HOO NURTS ARE IN AISLE 4
My friend the pharmacist got a call from an elderly customer originally from Sweden. She spoke with a thick accent:
"Yah, dis is Missus Olga Johnson, oond I vaunt a rrrrrrefill."
"OK, Mrs. Johnson. Do you happen to have the prescription number?"
"Yah, I dooooo.” In very long, drawn-out, heavily-accented clips, she read the number: "Vun . . . sevun . . . sree . . . sero . . . sero . . . TWO."
After a long pause, she suddenly added:
“Oond . . . I vaunt a hoo nurt."
The pharmacist was puzzled. A hoo nurt? Is that a laxative, or a back plaster, or some kind of a brace?
"YAH! I VAUNT A HOO NURT PILLS!"
Ohhhhhh. Suuuuuure. You betcha.
--------------------------------
Prayer request: Lord, Jesus, we thank You for sparing the life of Frank, a friend’s friend who severed two tendons on the back of his leg, including the main Achilles, in a chain-sawing accident. We know You made sure that his wife Patty was right there and able to tourniquet the leg with her knit tank top, get him to the car, and race him to the hospital, or he would have bled to death. Lord, their friend said they have been drifting away from church, and that Frank had prayed that You not take him yet, as his daughter is getting married in two months. Thank You for granting that prayer, O God of second chances! We pray that Frank and Patty will see this as a “wake-up call,” a warning that they were coming close to getting “cut off,” and that they’ll never stray again. (Luke 21:34-36)
My friend the pharmacist got a call from an elderly customer originally from Sweden. She spoke with a thick accent:
"Yah, dis is Missus Olga Johnson, oond I vaunt a rrrrrrefill."
"OK, Mrs. Johnson. Do you happen to have the prescription number?"
"Yah, I dooooo.” In very long, drawn-out, heavily-accented clips, she read the number: "Vun . . . sevun . . . sree . . . sero . . . sero . . . TWO."
After a long pause, she suddenly added:
“Oond . . . I vaunt a hoo nurt."
The pharmacist was puzzled. A hoo nurt? Is that a laxative, or a back plaster, or some kind of a brace?
"YAH! I VAUNT A HOO NURT PILLS!"
Ohhhhhh. Suuuuuure. You betcha.
--------------------------------
Prayer request: Lord, Jesus, we thank You for sparing the life of Frank, a friend’s friend who severed two tendons on the back of his leg, including the main Achilles, in a chain-sawing accident. We know You made sure that his wife Patty was right there and able to tourniquet the leg with her knit tank top, get him to the car, and race him to the hospital, or he would have bled to death. Lord, their friend said they have been drifting away from church, and that Frank had prayed that You not take him yet, as his daughter is getting married in two months. Thank You for granting that prayer, O God of second chances! We pray that Frank and Patty will see this as a “wake-up call,” a warning that they were coming close to getting “cut off,” and that they’ll never stray again. (Luke 21:34-36)
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
MAKING THE GODMOTHER A JOB OFFER SHE COULDN'T REFUSE
Here’s another anecdote from The Imogene Hub:
A woman from Shenandoah, Iowa, moved to a nearby big city and started job hunting. She had been a medical secretary for 22 years, so she started her job search at a hospital. She passed the initial hurdles, and was sent to see a high-ranking official on the fifth floor for the final interview.
Knees shaking, she shook hands with the big shot, who said that she had been born in Shenandoah. The woman asked who her parents were . . . and then her jaw dropped.
“My God!” she exclaimed, “I’m your godmother!”
Turns out that, when the woman was a teenager, she used to babysit for the executive’s older siblings. The father was out on the road, trucking, when the mother went into labor. So she called her teen sitter to take her to the hospital. When the baby was born, they asked her to be the godmother.
Needless to say, she got the job. If that’s nepotism, I’d say it’s not allllll bad.
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The Imogene Hub is available for subscriptions for $12 a year. Contact Veronica Keasling, 1485 390 Ave., Imogene, IA 51645
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Prayer request: A 51-year-old husband and father who was the subject of a June 24 prayer request has died after a stroke, a staph infection and a coma. His wife and two children were blessed by the miracle of his awakening from the coma before he died, but his body had just been through too much. We lift his survivors up to You for comfort and sustenance, Lord. Help them cleave into You and feel no fear. (Proverbs 1:33)
Here’s another anecdote from The Imogene Hub:
A woman from Shenandoah, Iowa, moved to a nearby big city and started job hunting. She had been a medical secretary for 22 years, so she started her job search at a hospital. She passed the initial hurdles, and was sent to see a high-ranking official on the fifth floor for the final interview.
Knees shaking, she shook hands with the big shot, who said that she had been born in Shenandoah. The woman asked who her parents were . . . and then her jaw dropped.
“My God!” she exclaimed, “I’m your godmother!”
Turns out that, when the woman was a teenager, she used to babysit for the executive’s older siblings. The father was out on the road, trucking, when the mother went into labor. So she called her teen sitter to take her to the hospital. When the baby was born, they asked her to be the godmother.
Needless to say, she got the job. If that’s nepotism, I’d say it’s not allllll bad.
---------------
The Imogene Hub is available for subscriptions for $12 a year. Contact Veronica Keasling, 1485 390 Ave., Imogene, IA 51645
---------------
Prayer request: A 51-year-old husband and father who was the subject of a June 24 prayer request has died after a stroke, a staph infection and a coma. His wife and two children were blessed by the miracle of his awakening from the coma before he died, but his body had just been through too much. We lift his survivors up to You for comfort and sustenance, Lord. Help them cleave into You and feel no fear. (Proverbs 1:33)
Monday, July 11, 2005
NOW, THAT'S MORNING BREATH
I read in my favorite little monthly paper, The Imogene Hub, about a family with a young yellow Lab like our Sunny Bone-O. They also got an invisible shock fence for him, as we did for her. He seemed to be catching on, ‘til late one night, his owner let him out, and he raced away.
They were out looking for him ‘til midnight. The next morning, the dog catcher called.
It seems their Lab had scooted through a neighbor’s doggy door and ventured upstairs. The man of the house was out of town. The dog crawled into his space in the bed, presumably circled, and plopped down and fell asleep.
The lady of the house woke up to the worst morning breath ever.
Now, there’s a howler of a way to start the day.
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The Imogene Hub is available for subscriptions for $12 a year. Contact Veronica Keasling, 1485 390 Ave., Imogene, IA 51645
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Prayer request: We mourn the senseless death of an Omahan who was a medic in the Iraq war. He was mowed down on the road over there while aiding another soldier. Eric Paul Woods, 26, will be greatly missed. His life is lifted to You, Lord, as a sacrifice for the freedom of the rest of us, and the Iraqi people. Be with his wife, Jamie, who works in the preschool of my former church, and 3-year-old son. Thank You for giving us young people determined to be a positive force in our world, like Eric. May he rest in Your tent ‘til he’s reunited with his loved ones. (Psalm 91:9,10)
I read in my favorite little monthly paper, The Imogene Hub, about a family with a young yellow Lab like our Sunny Bone-O. They also got an invisible shock fence for him, as we did for her. He seemed to be catching on, ‘til late one night, his owner let him out, and he raced away.
They were out looking for him ‘til midnight. The next morning, the dog catcher called.
It seems their Lab had scooted through a neighbor’s doggy door and ventured upstairs. The man of the house was out of town. The dog crawled into his space in the bed, presumably circled, and plopped down and fell asleep.
The lady of the house woke up to the worst morning breath ever.
Now, there’s a howler of a way to start the day.
-------------------
The Imogene Hub is available for subscriptions for $12 a year. Contact Veronica Keasling, 1485 390 Ave., Imogene, IA 51645
--------------------
Prayer request: We mourn the senseless death of an Omahan who was a medic in the Iraq war. He was mowed down on the road over there while aiding another soldier. Eric Paul Woods, 26, will be greatly missed. His life is lifted to You, Lord, as a sacrifice for the freedom of the rest of us, and the Iraqi people. Be with his wife, Jamie, who works in the preschool of my former church, and 3-year-old son. Thank You for giving us young people determined to be a positive force in our world, like Eric. May he rest in Your tent ‘til he’s reunited with his loved ones. (Psalm 91:9,10)
Sunday, July 10, 2005
WHAT SHE READ ON THE BEACH
God also bearing them witness,
both with signs and wonders,
and with divers miracles,
and gifts of the Holy Ghost, according to his own will. . . .
— Hebrews 2:4
I have this neat friend who tells an amazing story that may be a comfort to others who get divorced, and then wonder if they did The Right Thing.
The Bible says divorce is only OK if adultery is involved. Even then, you’re supposed to do everything you can to save your marriage.
Well, years ago, my friend was the mother of four, with a big problem. She was terribly unhappy. She agonized about getting divorced.
She was only a teenager when she got married. Because her own home had been dysfunctional, she’d had very little guidance and didn’t communicate well. Deeply unhappy, she numbed herself, drowning her emotions in unhealthy ways.
Finally, her husband chartered a sailboat down in the Caribbean. He had a pretty good idea how she felt. This was their chance to get away, once and for all, and make some decisions.
There was a skipper and his wife. The four of them enjoyed the azure skies, white sands and crystal waters. One afternoon, they looked up and started discussing cloud shapes.
Suddenly, my friend experienced what they call “hyperfocus.” She was mesmerized by the surrealistic images she saw in the clouds.
She saw a basket, and out of it came a genie. The genie turned into a snake. Gradually, the snake turned into a dove of peace with an olive branch in his mouth.
She swears she wasn’t going crazy and there were no drugs or alcohol involved. All four agreed that those were the shapes they were seeing.
She thought, but didn’t say, that it was a “storyboard” for her marriage.
When she got married, she thought it would be the “magic” that would make her happy. But she was wrong – and she had married the wrong person. There was fear in her marriage, and deception, and mistrust . . . like the snake.
But the dove in the clouds was a sign of peace. She was struck powerfully by the thought that everything was going to be OK.
She didn’t say a word about any of this.
But when her husband stood up, he fell right back down.
He stood up again, and fell right back down again.
She, too, was floored – literally.
“It was as if the energy and life had been sucked right out of him,” she said. “He was realizing that he couldn’t be who he wanted to be.”
Next morning, he threw his wedding ring over the side. Again, no one said a word.
She crawled up to the top of the boat and dove off into the shimmering, clear water. She saw that the coral formed a distinct shape:
A cross.
Her heart nearly burst at what it represented: Forgiveness. Understanding. Peace.
She saw a glimmer down on the bottom, and dove to investigate. It was a gold necklace, stamped “Italy.” A piece of treasure, there for her especially to find.
A gift – another sign – that she was God’s treasure. Though her future was hidden from her now, He would make sure she discovered it, and ultimately was blessed.
The real treasure was the reminder that, with God, there is liberty and grace for us, no matter what. Of course He doesn’t want us to break our marriage vows. But if it comes down to sink or swim, if we’ve tried our very best and still can’t make it work, He doesn’t want us to sink.
He wants us to swim.
She took that risk. She got that divorce. She dove back in to life.
Now, she says, “I never would have believed that my life could be so incredible. I have a great life. This is where I’m supposed to be.”
She’s remarried. He’s her perfect soulmate. She and her ex handle the child-rearing responsibilities admirably. The kids are all doing well. They all get along.
It’s all OK.
Just as she knew it would be – because of those signs she read on the beach, written with all-powerful love, by the Author of peace.
----------------------------------------------------
Praise report: We rejoice over answered prayer in the miraculous recovery of an in-law’s father, who had to be air-ambulanced from an Alaskan cruise back to a hospital in Lincoln, with a poor prognosis, but he’s doing well. (July 1 prayer request) Thank You, Lord Jesus, for blessing this family with Your healing power. (Isaiah 30:18)
God also bearing them witness,
both with signs and wonders,
and with divers miracles,
and gifts of the Holy Ghost, according to his own will. . . .
— Hebrews 2:4
I have this neat friend who tells an amazing story that may be a comfort to others who get divorced, and then wonder if they did The Right Thing.
The Bible says divorce is only OK if adultery is involved. Even then, you’re supposed to do everything you can to save your marriage.
Well, years ago, my friend was the mother of four, with a big problem. She was terribly unhappy. She agonized about getting divorced.
She was only a teenager when she got married. Because her own home had been dysfunctional, she’d had very little guidance and didn’t communicate well. Deeply unhappy, she numbed herself, drowning her emotions in unhealthy ways.
Finally, her husband chartered a sailboat down in the Caribbean. He had a pretty good idea how she felt. This was their chance to get away, once and for all, and make some decisions.
There was a skipper and his wife. The four of them enjoyed the azure skies, white sands and crystal waters. One afternoon, they looked up and started discussing cloud shapes.
Suddenly, my friend experienced what they call “hyperfocus.” She was mesmerized by the surrealistic images she saw in the clouds.
She saw a basket, and out of it came a genie. The genie turned into a snake. Gradually, the snake turned into a dove of peace with an olive branch in his mouth.
She swears she wasn’t going crazy and there were no drugs or alcohol involved. All four agreed that those were the shapes they were seeing.
She thought, but didn’t say, that it was a “storyboard” for her marriage.
When she got married, she thought it would be the “magic” that would make her happy. But she was wrong – and she had married the wrong person. There was fear in her marriage, and deception, and mistrust . . . like the snake.
But the dove in the clouds was a sign of peace. She was struck powerfully by the thought that everything was going to be OK.
She didn’t say a word about any of this.
But when her husband stood up, he fell right back down.
He stood up again, and fell right back down again.
She, too, was floored – literally.
“It was as if the energy and life had been sucked right out of him,” she said. “He was realizing that he couldn’t be who he wanted to be.”
Next morning, he threw his wedding ring over the side. Again, no one said a word.
She crawled up to the top of the boat and dove off into the shimmering, clear water. She saw that the coral formed a distinct shape:
A cross.
Her heart nearly burst at what it represented: Forgiveness. Understanding. Peace.
She saw a glimmer down on the bottom, and dove to investigate. It was a gold necklace, stamped “Italy.” A piece of treasure, there for her especially to find.
A gift – another sign – that she was God’s treasure. Though her future was hidden from her now, He would make sure she discovered it, and ultimately was blessed.
The real treasure was the reminder that, with God, there is liberty and grace for us, no matter what. Of course He doesn’t want us to break our marriage vows. But if it comes down to sink or swim, if we’ve tried our very best and still can’t make it work, He doesn’t want us to sink.
He wants us to swim.
She took that risk. She got that divorce. She dove back in to life.
Now, she says, “I never would have believed that my life could be so incredible. I have a great life. This is where I’m supposed to be.”
She’s remarried. He’s her perfect soulmate. She and her ex handle the child-rearing responsibilities admirably. The kids are all doing well. They all get along.
It’s all OK.
Just as she knew it would be – because of those signs she read on the beach, written with all-powerful love, by the Author of peace.
----------------------------------------------------
Praise report: We rejoice over answered prayer in the miraculous recovery of an in-law’s father, who had to be air-ambulanced from an Alaskan cruise back to a hospital in Lincoln, with a poor prognosis, but he’s doing well. (July 1 prayer request) Thank You, Lord Jesus, for blessing this family with Your healing power. (Isaiah 30:18)
Saturday, July 09, 2005
TEENS BY CANDLELIGHT
I’m letting my doctor off the hook for being on vacation when I punctured my lung and fractured my ribs. That’s because he and his family went through a tornado the same week.
They were on a lake a couple of hours north of where I was, in Minneapolis, and it happened the day I was released from the hospital. It was, as they say, a dark and stormy day.
Well, up at the resort where my doctor, his wife and three teenagers were, the owner suddenly started throwing stuff furiously into the boathouse, and told them they’d better go get in their cabin. Across the lake came what looked like a huge, dark thundercloud – but by the time they got to their cabin, they could see branches, dirt and particles of who knows what swirling all around inside it.
The winds were horrendous. Hundreds of trees were uprooted and slashed. But the five of them and everybody else at the resort were fine.
For the next three days, they were REALLY roughing it, as they had no electricity or other amenities. No TV! No laptops! But that was OK: they spent the days on the water, and the nights inside, playing cards by candlelight.
On the third day, as the lights came back on, the doctor’s foster daughter sighed, “Awwwwww.” She’s 14. Turns out those were the sweetest moments of family togetherness she has ever experienced.
Sometimes there’s a calm before a storm. Sometimes, it comes after.
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Prayer request: How would you like to be out of town, with a wedding to go to and a carload of people, and have your car die at the order window of McDonald’s on a Saturday morning? That’s the plight of our sister in Christ, Penny. Father, we lift her and her car to You for the ultimate “service station.” May her car get fixed promptly, and may she be a blessing to all as she remains calm and sure of Your oversight in this current pickle. (Matthew 11:28-30)
I’m letting my doctor off the hook for being on vacation when I punctured my lung and fractured my ribs. That’s because he and his family went through a tornado the same week.
They were on a lake a couple of hours north of where I was, in Minneapolis, and it happened the day I was released from the hospital. It was, as they say, a dark and stormy day.
Well, up at the resort where my doctor, his wife and three teenagers were, the owner suddenly started throwing stuff furiously into the boathouse, and told them they’d better go get in their cabin. Across the lake came what looked like a huge, dark thundercloud – but by the time they got to their cabin, they could see branches, dirt and particles of who knows what swirling all around inside it.
The winds were horrendous. Hundreds of trees were uprooted and slashed. But the five of them and everybody else at the resort were fine.
For the next three days, they were REALLY roughing it, as they had no electricity or other amenities. No TV! No laptops! But that was OK: they spent the days on the water, and the nights inside, playing cards by candlelight.
On the third day, as the lights came back on, the doctor’s foster daughter sighed, “Awwwwww.” She’s 14. Turns out those were the sweetest moments of family togetherness she has ever experienced.
Sometimes there’s a calm before a storm. Sometimes, it comes after.
-----------------------------------------------
Prayer request: How would you like to be out of town, with a wedding to go to and a carload of people, and have your car die at the order window of McDonald’s on a Saturday morning? That’s the plight of our sister in Christ, Penny. Father, we lift her and her car to You for the ultimate “service station.” May her car get fixed promptly, and may she be a blessing to all as she remains calm and sure of Your oversight in this current pickle. (Matthew 11:28-30)
Friday, July 08, 2005
THE RIGHT RESPONSE TO A WRONG NUMBER
Our daughter, 20, is working as a receptionist at her dad’s steel fabricating company this summer. She’s doing a whale of a job by all accounts. She adds some much-needed class to the front desk as she answers the busy office phone.
Most callers are very nice. But yesterday, some woman on the phone demanded to speak to “the lab.” There’s no “lab” there, and our daughter thought she had misunderstood the caller.
“Who?” she asked politely.
“The LAB!” the woman retorted, obviously thinking, “. . . you idiot.”
Our daughter, ever gracious, calmly explained that the lady must have the wrong number, but got no apology, just a slammed-down phone.
If it’d been ME, I would have said, “Ohhhhh, THAT lab . . . the one where they make a PILL . . . like the one YOU need to take. . . .”
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Prayer request: Father, we lift up to You for encouragement and sustenance the Pentagon Police Department, which has suffered the slaying of an officer, the murder of an officer’s wife on vacation in Panama, the death of another’s wife, two car accidents that left one officer's stepdaughter partially paralyzed and another officer seriously injured, one female officer’s son shot on the streets of D.C. and nephew murdered because he spoke to the wrong girl, and yet another officer temporarily paralyzed from the neck down after a freak accident while wrestling with his brother. That’s about as much as any of us can take, Lord. We are grateful to hear they have a small prayer group that meets each day immediately after roll call. Hear them, Lord, and protect them. Let them know that those of us they, in turn, protect are very, very grateful. (1 Peter 5:7)
Our daughter, 20, is working as a receptionist at her dad’s steel fabricating company this summer. She’s doing a whale of a job by all accounts. She adds some much-needed class to the front desk as she answers the busy office phone.
Most callers are very nice. But yesterday, some woman on the phone demanded to speak to “the lab.” There’s no “lab” there, and our daughter thought she had misunderstood the caller.
“Who?” she asked politely.
“The LAB!” the woman retorted, obviously thinking, “. . . you idiot.”
Our daughter, ever gracious, calmly explained that the lady must have the wrong number, but got no apology, just a slammed-down phone.
If it’d been ME, I would have said, “Ohhhhh, THAT lab . . . the one where they make a PILL . . . like the one YOU need to take. . . .”
-------------------------------------------------------------
Prayer request: Father, we lift up to You for encouragement and sustenance the Pentagon Police Department, which has suffered the slaying of an officer, the murder of an officer’s wife on vacation in Panama, the death of another’s wife, two car accidents that left one officer's stepdaughter partially paralyzed and another officer seriously injured, one female officer’s son shot on the streets of D.C. and nephew murdered because he spoke to the wrong girl, and yet another officer temporarily paralyzed from the neck down after a freak accident while wrestling with his brother. That’s about as much as any of us can take, Lord. We are grateful to hear they have a small prayer group that meets each day immediately after roll call. Hear them, Lord, and protect them. Let them know that those of us they, in turn, protect are very, very grateful. (1 Peter 5:7)
Thursday, July 07, 2005
GRETNA, I'M GLAD I MET YA
The local paper had a big banner headline about the rapid growth of what used to be a tiny little town southwest of Omaha: “Gretna feels population boom.”
They think that town may someday have 100,000 residents, which seems incredible. Throughout my lifetime it’s been considered, well, pretty podunk.
In fact, my dad used to tease my mom that if she didn’t straighten up and fly right, he’d move her out of our fine suburban house in west Omaha to “a trailer court in Gretna.”
Gee. The way it’s sounding, that might not be half bad.
--------------------------------
Prayer request: Today my friend and strong Christian sister Carol faces a court hearing on child custody and child support regarding her two younger children. The finances have been a mess throughout her divorce. Oh, Lord, we just pray that Your order and truth will prevail, and that justice will be done for this faithful mother, who works so hard and is so honest and true to You. (Psalm 125:1)
The local paper had a big banner headline about the rapid growth of what used to be a tiny little town southwest of Omaha: “Gretna feels population boom.”
They think that town may someday have 100,000 residents, which seems incredible. Throughout my lifetime it’s been considered, well, pretty podunk.
In fact, my dad used to tease my mom that if she didn’t straighten up and fly right, he’d move her out of our fine suburban house in west Omaha to “a trailer court in Gretna.”
Gee. The way it’s sounding, that might not be half bad.
--------------------------------
Prayer request: Today my friend and strong Christian sister Carol faces a court hearing on child custody and child support regarding her two younger children. The finances have been a mess throughout her divorce. Oh, Lord, we just pray that Your order and truth will prevail, and that justice will be done for this faithful mother, who works so hard and is so honest and true to You. (Psalm 125:1)
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
THAT'S THE GENERAL IDEA
A young man who’s going into officer training in the Air Force was home for a few days seeing family and friends. He did a lot of “Honey Do’s” for his parents before he left, including washing his mother’s car.
She wrote him a long, enthusiastic note with her thanks for his thoughtfulness and diligence.
He wrote back:”You’re welcome, Mommy. Note to self: wash general’s car.”
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Prayer request: My neighbor Norma had a high temperature, body aches, a horrible headache and other serious symptoms over the weekend, and is afraid it could be West Nile Disease. Lord Jesus, protect her and heal her body. Calm her fears and help her doctor figure out what’s wrong. Point her attention toward the help and concern that’s coming her way, instead of the pain and fear she’s been suffering. Help her remember that You’re with her, always. (Psalm 42:11)
A young man who’s going into officer training in the Air Force was home for a few days seeing family and friends. He did a lot of “Honey Do’s” for his parents before he left, including washing his mother’s car.
She wrote him a long, enthusiastic note with her thanks for his thoughtfulness and diligence.
He wrote back:”You’re welcome, Mommy. Note to self: wash general’s car.”
------------------------------
Prayer request: My neighbor Norma had a high temperature, body aches, a horrible headache and other serious symptoms over the weekend, and is afraid it could be West Nile Disease. Lord Jesus, protect her and heal her body. Calm her fears and help her doctor figure out what’s wrong. Point her attention toward the help and concern that’s coming her way, instead of the pain and fear she’s been suffering. Help her remember that You’re with her, always. (Psalm 42:11)
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
WHAT USED TO BE SMOKIN'
My nephew Mark is a computer engineer, and he’s beginning an exciting career with the Air Force this week.
It all started with his first computer. He bought it with his lawn-mowing money, and his mom chipped in halfsies. It was the hottest machine around, though we now laugh at how weak it was compared to today’s models: 64 megabytes of RAM, 2 megabytes of video memory and so forth. He was the envy of his school.
Well, recently, Mark built himself a new computer. It has a processor that is 10 times faster than his first machine of just a few years ago, with 1 gigabyte of RAM, 256 megs of video memory, a CD-burner, a DVD-ROM, DVD burner, two hard drives of 80 gigabytes and 40 gigabytes, plus seven fans to cool all that power. And all that in a case of his own design.
I forgot to ask him, but I bet it was cheaper, too, than his original hot machine.
Thank goodness the human race doesn’t come with rapid improvements like that. I’d be worse than a white elephant. I’d be an antique!
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Prayer request: We lift up this wonderful and intelligent young man, Father, for Your “inspection” as he begins his officer training. We rejoice that he has chosen to share his gifts with his country through the Air Force. We pray that his time in the service will be fulfilling and exciting. Bring him home to us often, and keep his heart at home with You always. (Philippians 4:9)
My nephew Mark is a computer engineer, and he’s beginning an exciting career with the Air Force this week.
It all started with his first computer. He bought it with his lawn-mowing money, and his mom chipped in halfsies. It was the hottest machine around, though we now laugh at how weak it was compared to today’s models: 64 megabytes of RAM, 2 megabytes of video memory and so forth. He was the envy of his school.
Well, recently, Mark built himself a new computer. It has a processor that is 10 times faster than his first machine of just a few years ago, with 1 gigabyte of RAM, 256 megs of video memory, a CD-burner, a DVD-ROM, DVD burner, two hard drives of 80 gigabytes and 40 gigabytes, plus seven fans to cool all that power. And all that in a case of his own design.
I forgot to ask him, but I bet it was cheaper, too, than his original hot machine.
Thank goodness the human race doesn’t come with rapid improvements like that. I’d be worse than a white elephant. I’d be an antique!
-------------------------------------------
Prayer request: We lift up this wonderful and intelligent young man, Father, for Your “inspection” as he begins his officer training. We rejoice that he has chosen to share his gifts with his country through the Air Force. We pray that his time in the service will be fulfilling and exciting. Bring him home to us often, and keep his heart at home with You always. (Philippians 4:9)
Monday, July 04, 2005
HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY!
Today's DailySusan is a musical email with a series of pictures from small-town Texas that showed about a thousand people standing along the route between a church and a cemetery for the funeral of a serviceman killed in Iraq. They held their hands over their hearts, and silently held up American flags, in a moving tribute.
It made me realize that the soul of America is beautiful, because it is rooted in Jesus Christ. But we don't show our true soul all that often.
My Fourth of July prayer is that the fruits of the Spirit, which have been so lavishly endowed upon Americans and our country, would blaze to the fore in the coming year, and overcome the evils and problems which beset us. These fruits -- evidence of God's influence in our hearts -- are listed in Galatians 5:22,23: love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness and temperance.
If everybody would try to model those, we really would crown our good with brotherhood from sea to shining sea.
Have a great day, everyone.
GOD BLESS AMERICA!
Today's DailySusan is a musical email with a series of pictures from small-town Texas that showed about a thousand people standing along the route between a church and a cemetery for the funeral of a serviceman killed in Iraq. They held their hands over their hearts, and silently held up American flags, in a moving tribute.
It made me realize that the soul of America is beautiful, because it is rooted in Jesus Christ. But we don't show our true soul all that often.
My Fourth of July prayer is that the fruits of the Spirit, which have been so lavishly endowed upon Americans and our country, would blaze to the fore in the coming year, and overcome the evils and problems which beset us. These fruits -- evidence of God's influence in our hearts -- are listed in Galatians 5:22,23: love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness and temperance.
If everybody would try to model those, we really would crown our good with brotherhood from sea to shining sea.
Have a great day, everyone.
GOD BLESS AMERICA!
Sunday, July 03, 2005
FIASCO OF JULY
Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free,
and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage.
-- Galatians 5:1
We went over to a nearby country club to see the spectacular Fourth of July fireworks show. We sat there in the car in the dark, Maddy in her Winnie the Pooh jammies, and me barefoot-casual. What a show!
WHOA!
WOO!
WOW!
In Maddy’s joyous shrieks and gasps I heard the music of America. All the color and sparkle of our amazing country were reflected in her dazzled, uplifted eyes.
This is freedom. This is how it feels. This is what God wants for us -- the peaceful, prosperous lifestyle He ordained.
Everybody honked their horns when it was over. Hey, Maddy, how was that for a birthday celebration for ‘Merica? She replied: “Humungously great!”
That’s what our country is, and that’s how we want the Fourth of July to be. We want a worthy observation to remember all the wonderful things our predecessors fought to create and sustain . . . their blood, sweat and tears . . . their battlefield valor.
This year, I want an especially great one, because I’m bustin’-buttons proud of my nephew Mark, a computer engineer who begins officer training in the U.S. Air Force this week in Montgomery, Ala.
Whenever I watch fireworks, I think of and pray for our military all around the world, for my dad and other relatives who fought for our country, and all the patriots going all the way back to our founding. They did what they did so that a little girl in her jammies and her sleepy, barefoot mom could enjoy the splendors of liberty on a dark and starry night.
‘Course, there was one celebration I heard about that didn’t quite fit the profile of an all-American great time. Guess it’s the exception that proves the rule:
It was at a country club, and in those days, the price was staggering: $13.98 per person. But you got a lot for that: fun and games in the pool, an all-you-can-eat buffet, and then that club’s signature fireworks show.
The first few pool games went fine, and then . . . disaster. They had ordered hundreds of live goldfish, and dumped them into the pool so that the kids could swim around, try to catch them, and have a whee.
Trouble was, they didn’t realize what chlorine would do to those poor little goldfish.
They died instantly, and all the giggling little kids found themselves in a watery grave with hundreds of disgusting, dead fish!
They screamed, and scrambled out of there as if escaping the “Baby Ruth” in that crazy “Caddy Shack” movie.
Then it was dinnertime. The crowd lined up for the all-you-can-eat buffet.
Trouble was, there were more diners than expected. The lavishly-prepared food disappeared. A lot of people had all they could eat, all right – of cocktail olives, parsley, roofing tile and whatever else the harried chef could round up.
Oh, well. Who cares about fancy food on the Fourth of July, anyway? Fireworks are the main event! The party-goers expectantly awaited the show. Daylight turned to dusk, dusk to dark, dark to pitch dark . . . but still no show.
Finally, ‘waaaaay off in the distance, if you had binoculars and squinted really hard, you could see the orange poofs of a few pop-bottle rockets going off. I mean, like 27. And a few Roman candles. And that was it.
It seems the stand out in the country where this club had always bought the fireworks for their signature show hadn’t opened up that year. The club employee in charge thought it would be easy to find really great fireworks at half price at a roadside stand on the afternoon of the Fourth.
But noooooo. They had hardly anything left. So that was it.
The good news is, the kids had a great time just being together, anyway, and the cash bar stayed open the whole time, so lots of the grown-ups had a bang-up Fourth after all.
Is this a great country, or what?
--------------------------------------------------------------
Prayer request: I’d like to dedicate this week’s story to the memory of Brandon Orsborn, an outstanding young man from our town who served with distinction in the fight against terrorism in our military efforts in the Middle East. He had returned home after serving all of us, and tragically was killed in a traffic accident. Oh, Lord, we thank You for Brandon’s life – he was handsome, he was kind, he was diligent, he was admirable. Someday, we’ll understand how this tragedy fits Your purpose for his life. In the meantime, we honor his memory this Fourth of July. Thank You for seating him for eternity at the feet of the Prince of Peace to watch as You defeat the forces of evil. We ask Your solace and blessings to be poured out on his parents and family, now and always. (Psalm 110:1)
Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free,
and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage.
-- Galatians 5:1
We went over to a nearby country club to see the spectacular Fourth of July fireworks show. We sat there in the car in the dark, Maddy in her Winnie the Pooh jammies, and me barefoot-casual. What a show!
WHOA!
WOO!
WOW!
In Maddy’s joyous shrieks and gasps I heard the music of America. All the color and sparkle of our amazing country were reflected in her dazzled, uplifted eyes.
This is freedom. This is how it feels. This is what God wants for us -- the peaceful, prosperous lifestyle He ordained.
Everybody honked their horns when it was over. Hey, Maddy, how was that for a birthday celebration for ‘Merica? She replied: “Humungously great!”
That’s what our country is, and that’s how we want the Fourth of July to be. We want a worthy observation to remember all the wonderful things our predecessors fought to create and sustain . . . their blood, sweat and tears . . . their battlefield valor.
This year, I want an especially great one, because I’m bustin’-buttons proud of my nephew Mark, a computer engineer who begins officer training in the U.S. Air Force this week in Montgomery, Ala.
Whenever I watch fireworks, I think of and pray for our military all around the world, for my dad and other relatives who fought for our country, and all the patriots going all the way back to our founding. They did what they did so that a little girl in her jammies and her sleepy, barefoot mom could enjoy the splendors of liberty on a dark and starry night.
‘Course, there was one celebration I heard about that didn’t quite fit the profile of an all-American great time. Guess it’s the exception that proves the rule:
It was at a country club, and in those days, the price was staggering: $13.98 per person. But you got a lot for that: fun and games in the pool, an all-you-can-eat buffet, and then that club’s signature fireworks show.
The first few pool games went fine, and then . . . disaster. They had ordered hundreds of live goldfish, and dumped them into the pool so that the kids could swim around, try to catch them, and have a whee.
Trouble was, they didn’t realize what chlorine would do to those poor little goldfish.
They died instantly, and all the giggling little kids found themselves in a watery grave with hundreds of disgusting, dead fish!
They screamed, and scrambled out of there as if escaping the “Baby Ruth” in that crazy “Caddy Shack” movie.
Then it was dinnertime. The crowd lined up for the all-you-can-eat buffet.
Trouble was, there were more diners than expected. The lavishly-prepared food disappeared. A lot of people had all they could eat, all right – of cocktail olives, parsley, roofing tile and whatever else the harried chef could round up.
Oh, well. Who cares about fancy food on the Fourth of July, anyway? Fireworks are the main event! The party-goers expectantly awaited the show. Daylight turned to dusk, dusk to dark, dark to pitch dark . . . but still no show.
Finally, ‘waaaaay off in the distance, if you had binoculars and squinted really hard, you could see the orange poofs of a few pop-bottle rockets going off. I mean, like 27. And a few Roman candles. And that was it.
It seems the stand out in the country where this club had always bought the fireworks for their signature show hadn’t opened up that year. The club employee in charge thought it would be easy to find really great fireworks at half price at a roadside stand on the afternoon of the Fourth.
But noooooo. They had hardly anything left. So that was it.
The good news is, the kids had a great time just being together, anyway, and the cash bar stayed open the whole time, so lots of the grown-ups had a bang-up Fourth after all.
Is this a great country, or what?
--------------------------------------------------------------
Prayer request: I’d like to dedicate this week’s story to the memory of Brandon Orsborn, an outstanding young man from our town who served with distinction in the fight against terrorism in our military efforts in the Middle East. He had returned home after serving all of us, and tragically was killed in a traffic accident. Oh, Lord, we thank You for Brandon’s life – he was handsome, he was kind, he was diligent, he was admirable. Someday, we’ll understand how this tragedy fits Your purpose for his life. In the meantime, we honor his memory this Fourth of July. Thank You for seating him for eternity at the feet of the Prince of Peace to watch as You defeat the forces of evil. We ask Your solace and blessings to be poured out on his parents and family, now and always. (Psalm 110:1)
Saturday, July 02, 2005
GOOSE ON THE LOOSE
There’s a certain business office near a certain large pond in a certain city, where a certain person I know works. It seems that every day, a gaggle of several dozen geese walk across the busy street there from their wooded home to the pond.
They are so stuck up and sure of themselves, they don’t punch the “Pedestrian Crossing” button, or stay within the white lines, or anything. Consequently, traffic often goes “SCREEEEEECH!” as unsuspecting motorists brake, to avoid making pate right there on the busy intersection. It’s like the beloved children’s book, “Make Way for Ducklings,” on steroids.
Finally, it got so bad that someone called whoever is in charge of such things – wildlife or traffic safety officials – and someone came and rounded them up. Word around town is that they were relocated, but no one knows where.
Well, a lady who works with this certain person went ballistic. She is an animal lover to the extreme. Her position: those geese chose to live on that pond, so it is THEIR pond, and no matter how we humans might be inconvenienced or endangered by their daily foray into that busy street, we shouldn’t have removed them.
Well, there have been some hijinks in response. Someone put a recipe for “Goose Soup” on her chair. Someone else found a bunch of goose feathers, put them on a piece of paper with some ketchup and a taunting message along the lines of “I’LL BE BACK!” and put THAT on her chair, implying a goose homicide.
I know what she should do in retaliation: put a sign up where the geese used to walk, with the message: “Honk if you miss the honkers.”
-----------------------------------------------
Prayer request: There’s a young cashier where I buy groceries who is struggling with carpal tunnel syndrome. Lord, Brenda is so young to have pain like that. We pray that this trial will draw her closer to You. We praise You for giving her a mother who is leaving no stone unturned to find her treatment and relief. Grant her healing and an end to her suffering, for Your glory. (2 Peter 3:18)
There’s a certain business office near a certain large pond in a certain city, where a certain person I know works. It seems that every day, a gaggle of several dozen geese walk across the busy street there from their wooded home to the pond.
They are so stuck up and sure of themselves, they don’t punch the “Pedestrian Crossing” button, or stay within the white lines, or anything. Consequently, traffic often goes “SCREEEEEECH!” as unsuspecting motorists brake, to avoid making pate right there on the busy intersection. It’s like the beloved children’s book, “Make Way for Ducklings,” on steroids.
Finally, it got so bad that someone called whoever is in charge of such things – wildlife or traffic safety officials – and someone came and rounded them up. Word around town is that they were relocated, but no one knows where.
Well, a lady who works with this certain person went ballistic. She is an animal lover to the extreme. Her position: those geese chose to live on that pond, so it is THEIR pond, and no matter how we humans might be inconvenienced or endangered by their daily foray into that busy street, we shouldn’t have removed them.
Well, there have been some hijinks in response. Someone put a recipe for “Goose Soup” on her chair. Someone else found a bunch of goose feathers, put them on a piece of paper with some ketchup and a taunting message along the lines of “I’LL BE BACK!” and put THAT on her chair, implying a goose homicide.
I know what she should do in retaliation: put a sign up where the geese used to walk, with the message: “Honk if you miss the honkers.”
-----------------------------------------------
Prayer request: There’s a young cashier where I buy groceries who is struggling with carpal tunnel syndrome. Lord, Brenda is so young to have pain like that. We pray that this trial will draw her closer to You. We praise You for giving her a mother who is leaving no stone unturned to find her treatment and relief. Grant her healing and an end to her suffering, for Your glory. (2 Peter 3:18)
Friday, July 01, 2005
NOW, THAT'S LONG DISTANCE
I’ve been waiting for new cushions for our patio furniture. I picked out a great fabric and sent in the order more than a month ago. They were supposed to be in place for Father’s Day, and now here it is the 4th of July, and no cushions.
I called the store to inquire. The lady said she’d have to call the manufacturer. I smiled at the implications of what she said:
“Well, I’ll give Paradise a call, and get back to you.”
‘Course, if she asks Paradise how much longer it’s going to be for me, I’m not sure I want to know.
-----------------------------
Prayer request: The father of a relative of mine was stricken with either a stroke or a heart attack while just beginning a dream trip to Alaska. He had to be air-ambulanced back to Nebraska for long-term care. It has been several days, and his speech has not come back. O, Lord, send Your Holy Spirit to envelop and comfort Brad’s family. Give them endurance and reassurance of Your presence through this trial. Keep their faith steadfast and strong. (1 Corinthians 15:58)
I’ve been waiting for new cushions for our patio furniture. I picked out a great fabric and sent in the order more than a month ago. They were supposed to be in place for Father’s Day, and now here it is the 4th of July, and no cushions.
I called the store to inquire. The lady said she’d have to call the manufacturer. I smiled at the implications of what she said:
“Well, I’ll give Paradise a call, and get back to you.”
‘Course, if she asks Paradise how much longer it’s going to be for me, I’m not sure I want to know.
-----------------------------
Prayer request: The father of a relative of mine was stricken with either a stroke or a heart attack while just beginning a dream trip to Alaska. He had to be air-ambulanced back to Nebraska for long-term care. It has been several days, and his speech has not come back. O, Lord, send Your Holy Spirit to envelop and comfort Brad’s family. Give them endurance and reassurance of Your presence through this trial. Keep their faith steadfast and strong. (1 Corinthians 15:58)
Thursday, June 30, 2005
DIAMONDS ARE FOR 'UH OH'
I once lost the diamond out of my engagement ring gardening at our daughter’s preschool. My husband was understanding: he just put his hand on my shoulder and said, kindly, “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a ‘thing.’”
Well, recently I wrote about a happy young couple who got engaged on a Colorado mountaintop after the future bridegroom went through a Keystone Kops caper getting the ring from Omaha and so forth.
And wouldn’t you know it: his bride-to-be looked down at her hand the other day (engaged girls do that a lot!) and the stone was GONE!
Worse, she was on the phone with her future MOTHER-IN-LAW at the time!
It was just a “thing,” too, but only days old. But fortunately, she found it in a bathroom hand towel, and they’re going to fix the setting ASAP. Whew.
Coincidentally, I’m reading the Karen Hughes autobiography, “Ten Minutes From Normal,” about a top advisor to President Bush. She was in Seoul, Korea, not far from where her father had fought communists during the Korean War.
Her surroundings were vastly different from wartime: she was attending a reception at the presidential palace when she looked down and was “sickened” to see that her engagement ring diamond was missing.
While the two presidents were giving their toasts, her eyes swept all around the floor, trying to spot it, “but the room was huge and the carpet was light,” she wrote.
She showed her “empty” ring to the coat-check man, but he didn’t speak English and she didn’t speak Korean, so she went back to her hotel, devastated.
Thirty minutes later, a message came over her pager: “STONE FOUND.”
The Korean workers had gotten down on their hands and knees with combs to find it.
She was blown away by that incident, and many others kindnesses, that she says demonstrate how grateful the South Koreans are to us for helping them maintain their freedom.
Liberty: it’s only a “thing,” too. But once you’ve had it, you know it’s even more precious than diamonds.
And that’s something to think about, this Fourth of July weekend.
---------------------------
Prayer request: We lift our hands to You, Father, to protect Amy, 45, during open-heart surgery today. She is so young, Lord! And her valve problem is so serious. Be with her two young children and husband, and strengthen the hands and minds of her medical team so that the surgery is highly successful. Most of all, draw her and her family to Yourself through this trial, and lend them Your heart, which is all any of us ever really needs. (Philippians 2:2-4)
I once lost the diamond out of my engagement ring gardening at our daughter’s preschool. My husband was understanding: he just put his hand on my shoulder and said, kindly, “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a ‘thing.’”
Well, recently I wrote about a happy young couple who got engaged on a Colorado mountaintop after the future bridegroom went through a Keystone Kops caper getting the ring from Omaha and so forth.
And wouldn’t you know it: his bride-to-be looked down at her hand the other day (engaged girls do that a lot!) and the stone was GONE!
Worse, she was on the phone with her future MOTHER-IN-LAW at the time!
It was just a “thing,” too, but only days old. But fortunately, she found it in a bathroom hand towel, and they’re going to fix the setting ASAP. Whew.
Coincidentally, I’m reading the Karen Hughes autobiography, “Ten Minutes From Normal,” about a top advisor to President Bush. She was in Seoul, Korea, not far from where her father had fought communists during the Korean War.
Her surroundings were vastly different from wartime: she was attending a reception at the presidential palace when she looked down and was “sickened” to see that her engagement ring diamond was missing.
While the two presidents were giving their toasts, her eyes swept all around the floor, trying to spot it, “but the room was huge and the carpet was light,” she wrote.
She showed her “empty” ring to the coat-check man, but he didn’t speak English and she didn’t speak Korean, so she went back to her hotel, devastated.
Thirty minutes later, a message came over her pager: “STONE FOUND.”
The Korean workers had gotten down on their hands and knees with combs to find it.
She was blown away by that incident, and many others kindnesses, that she says demonstrate how grateful the South Koreans are to us for helping them maintain their freedom.
Liberty: it’s only a “thing,” too. But once you’ve had it, you know it’s even more precious than diamonds.
And that’s something to think about, this Fourth of July weekend.
---------------------------
Prayer request: We lift our hands to You, Father, to protect Amy, 45, during open-heart surgery today. She is so young, Lord! And her valve problem is so serious. Be with her two young children and husband, and strengthen the hands and minds of her medical team so that the surgery is highly successful. Most of all, draw her and her family to Yourself through this trial, and lend them Your heart, which is all any of us ever really needs. (Philippians 2:2-4)
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
A COLORFUL DAY AT THE PHARMACY
Pharmacies are serious places, but every once in a while, you’ve got to liven things up. One day, my pharmacist friend finished a prescription for someone named White . . . and the wheels in her head engaged.
She printed reprint labels from several real customers who were in the pharmacy’s database, labeled a bunch of sacks, put an empty Rx bottle in each sack, and put them in the tote to be paged.
Everyone was busy, following proper workflow, when the cashier was caught up enough to page another batch:
"The following parties may return to the pharmacy at your convenience: White, Green, Gray, Brown, Blue, Black, and Reddish."
Oh, to see the look on their faces!
------------------------------------------
Prayer request: There’s a teenage “punk” named Kyle, the leader of a pack of about a dozen kids who hang on his every word and action. But somehow or another, he went to a Christian youth retreat, and has rededicated his life to Jesus Christ. We rejoice with You, Lord, and pray for dedication and success for Scott, the youth minister who has begun the process of discipling Kyle. Bless Kyle’s growth so he will use his influence for You, Lord, and allow Scott to get everything done on top of this exciting new assignment. (Philippians 2:2-4)
Pharmacies are serious places, but every once in a while, you’ve got to liven things up. One day, my pharmacist friend finished a prescription for someone named White . . . and the wheels in her head engaged.
She printed reprint labels from several real customers who were in the pharmacy’s database, labeled a bunch of sacks, put an empty Rx bottle in each sack, and put them in the tote to be paged.
Everyone was busy, following proper workflow, when the cashier was caught up enough to page another batch:
"The following parties may return to the pharmacy at your convenience: White, Green, Gray, Brown, Blue, Black, and Reddish."
Oh, to see the look on their faces!
------------------------------------------
Prayer request: There’s a teenage “punk” named Kyle, the leader of a pack of about a dozen kids who hang on his every word and action. But somehow or another, he went to a Christian youth retreat, and has rededicated his life to Jesus Christ. We rejoice with You, Lord, and pray for dedication and success for Scott, the youth minister who has begun the process of discipling Kyle. Bless Kyle’s growth so he will use his influence for You, Lord, and allow Scott to get everything done on top of this exciting new assignment. (Philippians 2:2-4)
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
THE KU KLUTZ KLAN
Reports keep coming in of ways that other people have done themselves accidental bodily harm. Although of course I feel sorry for them, it also secretly makes me feel a little better that I’m not the ONLY klutz.
One fellow was engaged in horseplay with a larger friend, who tackled him, and knocked his breath away. But he went home and went to bed, and then played 18 holes of golf the next day – getting only about one-fourth his usual distance with each stroke. He finally went to the doctor and found out he had three cracked ribs.
An elderly friend confides that she was getting up from the “watercloset,” felt a little dizzy, fell back down, and struck the old-fashioned handle that stuck out from the side. She went to a dinner that night and couldn’t lean back in her chair. Finally, she sought a doctor’s advice: the Attack of the Killer Toilet Tank gave her a cracked rib.
Then there was the midlife crisis fellow I know who just HAD to get himself a Harley-Davidson motorcycle. The same weekend I had my ill-fated foray into Minnesota indoor downhill skiing, he skidded on some gravel in Iowa, and shattered his ankle in several places.
And, waiting for my prescription to be filled, I ran into an old friend whose husband had played in a charity golf event that morning. His crazy-driver golf buddy was driving the car too fast. It started to tip over. My friend stuck his hand out in a goofy attempt to right the golf cart . . . and shattered his wrist in five places, will need surgery, has a long recovery ahead of him, etc. etc.
We all sing the Cingular dum-dum song: Doot doo! Doot doot doooo!!!
----------------------------
Prayer request: Lord, thank You for sending people to help me get through this recovery; their love and advice is most appreciated. Help me and my fellow “patients” who are struggling with pain and injuries right now to be a lot more “patient,” get more rest, and spend more precious quiet time with You. I read the Bible, prayed, and then took a two-hour nap yesterday. It did me a world of good, Lord. Help me adopt a slower, richer, more deliberate pace of life, which is so much healthier – and safer! (Proverbs 4:26)
Reports keep coming in of ways that other people have done themselves accidental bodily harm. Although of course I feel sorry for them, it also secretly makes me feel a little better that I’m not the ONLY klutz.
One fellow was engaged in horseplay with a larger friend, who tackled him, and knocked his breath away. But he went home and went to bed, and then played 18 holes of golf the next day – getting only about one-fourth his usual distance with each stroke. He finally went to the doctor and found out he had three cracked ribs.
An elderly friend confides that she was getting up from the “watercloset,” felt a little dizzy, fell back down, and struck the old-fashioned handle that stuck out from the side. She went to a dinner that night and couldn’t lean back in her chair. Finally, she sought a doctor’s advice: the Attack of the Killer Toilet Tank gave her a cracked rib.
Then there was the midlife crisis fellow I know who just HAD to get himself a Harley-Davidson motorcycle. The same weekend I had my ill-fated foray into Minnesota indoor downhill skiing, he skidded on some gravel in Iowa, and shattered his ankle in several places.
And, waiting for my prescription to be filled, I ran into an old friend whose husband had played in a charity golf event that morning. His crazy-driver golf buddy was driving the car too fast. It started to tip over. My friend stuck his hand out in a goofy attempt to right the golf cart . . . and shattered his wrist in five places, will need surgery, has a long recovery ahead of him, etc. etc.
We all sing the Cingular dum-dum song: Doot doo! Doot doot doooo!!!
----------------------------
Prayer request: Lord, thank You for sending people to help me get through this recovery; their love and advice is most appreciated. Help me and my fellow “patients” who are struggling with pain and injuries right now to be a lot more “patient,” get more rest, and spend more precious quiet time with You. I read the Bible, prayed, and then took a two-hour nap yesterday. It did me a world of good, Lord. Help me adopt a slower, richer, more deliberate pace of life, which is so much healthier – and safer! (Proverbs 4:26)
Monday, June 27, 2005
AND THEY SAY THE SUPER BOWL'S NEVER EXCITING
I’m glad I wrote about my punctured lung and fractured ribs caused by rushing downstairs to catch a TV replay of a college baseball play. Several people have written me consolation notes describing ways that THEY have hurt themselves in similar dignified fashion.
My favorite is from a fun gal who was at a big Super Bowl watch party at the home of her brother-in-law. It made me happy to realize that at LEAST nobody saw my spectacular and goofy fall, and nobody got it on videotape, thank goodness. She tells her story this way:
“I took a rather quick trip down his stairs, but I landed on my tummy with my right foot pointing straight back. Unfortunately, your foot is not supposed to point straight back. I lay there for about 10 minutes and concentrated on not throwing up, it hurt so bad!
“My husband had the good sense to take off my running shoe. If he had not, we would have had to cut it off. (The shoe, not my foot!)
“After x-rays, it was determined that a tendon the goes between my big toe and the next toe had torn loose and taken the piece of bone it was attached to with it. Would you believe when they took the first cast off after a month, you could see exactly where the tendon went up my leg, by following the black and blue marks?
“So when I say I feel your pain, I REALLY feel your pain. It was downright embarrassing to do something so clumsy in front of everyone I know! And they still give me grief about it.”
Well, I don’t. Solidarity, my comrade in the . . . Ku Klutz Klan!
---------------------------------
Prayer request: A young friend of ours, Jon, is home after military service in Iraq, and another special young man, Mark, is about to enter the Air Force. Father, we thank You for these brave and smart young men who are so willing to give of themselves for others. Keep them in Your special care and protection, and bring people into their lives who will help them develop themselves to be even more special. (Psalm 32:8)
I’m glad I wrote about my punctured lung and fractured ribs caused by rushing downstairs to catch a TV replay of a college baseball play. Several people have written me consolation notes describing ways that THEY have hurt themselves in similar dignified fashion.
My favorite is from a fun gal who was at a big Super Bowl watch party at the home of her brother-in-law. It made me happy to realize that at LEAST nobody saw my spectacular and goofy fall, and nobody got it on videotape, thank goodness. She tells her story this way:
“I took a rather quick trip down his stairs, but I landed on my tummy with my right foot pointing straight back. Unfortunately, your foot is not supposed to point straight back. I lay there for about 10 minutes and concentrated on not throwing up, it hurt so bad!
“My husband had the good sense to take off my running shoe. If he had not, we would have had to cut it off. (The shoe, not my foot!)
“After x-rays, it was determined that a tendon the goes between my big toe and the next toe had torn loose and taken the piece of bone it was attached to with it. Would you believe when they took the first cast off after a month, you could see exactly where the tendon went up my leg, by following the black and blue marks?
“So when I say I feel your pain, I REALLY feel your pain. It was downright embarrassing to do something so clumsy in front of everyone I know! And they still give me grief about it.”
Well, I don’t. Solidarity, my comrade in the . . . Ku Klutz Klan!
---------------------------------
Prayer request: A young friend of ours, Jon, is home after military service in Iraq, and another special young man, Mark, is about to enter the Air Force. Father, we thank You for these brave and smart young men who are so willing to give of themselves for others. Keep them in Your special care and protection, and bring people into their lives who will help them develop themselves to be even more special. (Psalm 32:8)
Sunday, June 26, 2005
A MINNESOTA UFF DA
(H)e that hasteth with his feet sinneth.
-- Proverbs 19:2b
Last weekend, we went to the Twin Cities for our daughter’s softball tournament, and had to miss the University of Nebraska’s College World Series opener in Omaha.
Oy!
The “oy” turned into an “uff da” in a hurry – which is what I was in too much of.
See, we also visited friends who recently moved up there to a southwest suburb, Chanhassen, which, prophetically, is Indian for “sap.”
Their TV was downstairs. We put on the baseball game. I was upstairs when I heard the crowd roar. We must’ve scored!!! I scrambled downstairs to catch the replay, exulting:
WOOOO!!!
But my slick sandals, to the carpeted stairs, were like well-waxed skis to the slopes.
I did a soaring open pike into a full layout with an inward twist.
Artful, actually. But I didn’t get enough height on my dive, nor enough water under it. My heroically-proportioned corpus came down hard on my right ribcage:
WHAAAM!!!
My friend found me, speechless for once.
I sprawled flat the rest of the game, depleting my cell-phone battery with updates to my beloved, who was ‘way north of town with the softball team, TV-less. I mentioned my indoor dive in my final report about the Husker win.
“You might’ve bruised your ribs,” he muttered. “Better go have an x-ray.”
But this was the first sleepover for Maddy, 5, with her best friend Cissa and sister Sofia. You don’t haul kids to the E.R. at 10 p.m.
So I left her, and drove myself to the hospital in Waconia, 15 miles away.
They were astounded I hadn’t been rushed in by ambulance. It seems my right lung had been punctured by ribs fractured by my indoor dive.
On the x-ray, my lung looked like a balloon that had been run over and stomped upon. I must admit it was an ego boost to have all those handsome doctors looking at pictures of my chest and saying, “Wow!”
But once I knew what I had, the pain magnified. An old coot in the next enclosure was begging for “opium.”
I entreated the nurse: “I’ll have what HE’S having.”
Meanwhile, my husband got the motel manager to drive him the 45 miles to Waconia. He arrived just after they’d shoved a tube through my ribs into my lung to pump me back up, and the narcotics – not “opium,” but close – made me lose my Pizzaioli pizza and Izzy’s ice cream, repeatedly and with gusto.
Meanwhile, Maddy’s first sleepover was a holocaust. She kept popping up and declaring: “This isn’t going to work.”
Eventually, though, it did. And I saw once again that, whenever you fall, the grace you’re given while you’re lifted back up makes it well worth the pain.
Though I was hospitalized through Monday, my husband had a happy Father’s Day after all: he got to go on the log ride with Maddy at Camp Snoopy 4,000 times.
The doctors and nurses were all named “Larson,” “Olson” and “Hanson.” They treated me like a Valkyrie queen. The discharge orders said no cooking or cleaning for six weeks. Was this Waconia, or Valhalla?
Our friends brought me pink, fragrant, Paul Bunyan-size peonies, and tactfully stenciled “No Diving” on their stairway wall.
My mom was relieved to learn I had on brand-spankin’ new underwear.
Though I now know where every bump in the road is, back to Omaha, and the Huskers eventually lost despite my supreme zeal, my “Mother’s Little Helper” pills helped me not care.
Friends brought in dinners, I found a comfortable position to sleep – on my left earlobe – and the doctor says I’ll be pain-free in a month, as a long as I don’t talk, sing, sneeze, hiccup, have gas or breathe.
The doctor’s name: Olson . . . same as the motel manager who drove 90 miles round trip to bring my husband to the E.R. to say those three little words: “Nice going, Klutz.”
A Minnesota vacation: it takes your breath away.
Of course I’ll be back: in orthopedic shoes with rock-climbing cleats, a life preserver, helmet, choke collar, and a new tattoo: “Haste Makes Waste . . . You Dumb Chanhassen.”
---------------------------------------------------
Prayer request: The accident made me so grateful, Lord, that it wasn’t worse, and that I have good overall health so that I can heal fast. It was a unique chance to witness Your stupendous artistry in the way You made our bodies, since my lung healed itself almost immediately. It’s humbling to recognize that the pain I’m feeling now is nothing next to the pain another softball mom is feeling, in the murder of her 16-year-old daughter, Sarah Neal, this past week in Omaha. The recovery road ahead of me is short, Lord, but theirs is for a lifetime. We pray a mantle of protection, strength and peace over each of them. And Lord? I’m determined to live life by Your timing from now on, and not always be in such a rush! (Deuteronomy 31:6)
(H)e that hasteth with his feet sinneth.
-- Proverbs 19:2b
Last weekend, we went to the Twin Cities for our daughter’s softball tournament, and had to miss the University of Nebraska’s College World Series opener in Omaha.
Oy!
The “oy” turned into an “uff da” in a hurry – which is what I was in too much of.
See, we also visited friends who recently moved up there to a southwest suburb, Chanhassen, which, prophetically, is Indian for “sap.”
Their TV was downstairs. We put on the baseball game. I was upstairs when I heard the crowd roar. We must’ve scored!!! I scrambled downstairs to catch the replay, exulting:
WOOOO!!!
But my slick sandals, to the carpeted stairs, were like well-waxed skis to the slopes.
I did a soaring open pike into a full layout with an inward twist.
Artful, actually. But I didn’t get enough height on my dive, nor enough water under it. My heroically-proportioned corpus came down hard on my right ribcage:
WHAAAM!!!
My friend found me, speechless for once.
I sprawled flat the rest of the game, depleting my cell-phone battery with updates to my beloved, who was ‘way north of town with the softball team, TV-less. I mentioned my indoor dive in my final report about the Husker win.
“You might’ve bruised your ribs,” he muttered. “Better go have an x-ray.”
But this was the first sleepover for Maddy, 5, with her best friend Cissa and sister Sofia. You don’t haul kids to the E.R. at 10 p.m.
So I left her, and drove myself to the hospital in Waconia, 15 miles away.
They were astounded I hadn’t been rushed in by ambulance. It seems my right lung had been punctured by ribs fractured by my indoor dive.
On the x-ray, my lung looked like a balloon that had been run over and stomped upon. I must admit it was an ego boost to have all those handsome doctors looking at pictures of my chest and saying, “Wow!”
But once I knew what I had, the pain magnified. An old coot in the next enclosure was begging for “opium.”
I entreated the nurse: “I’ll have what HE’S having.”
Meanwhile, my husband got the motel manager to drive him the 45 miles to Waconia. He arrived just after they’d shoved a tube through my ribs into my lung to pump me back up, and the narcotics – not “opium,” but close – made me lose my Pizzaioli pizza and Izzy’s ice cream, repeatedly and with gusto.
Meanwhile, Maddy’s first sleepover was a holocaust. She kept popping up and declaring: “This isn’t going to work.”
Eventually, though, it did. And I saw once again that, whenever you fall, the grace you’re given while you’re lifted back up makes it well worth the pain.
Though I was hospitalized through Monday, my husband had a happy Father’s Day after all: he got to go on the log ride with Maddy at Camp Snoopy 4,000 times.
The doctors and nurses were all named “Larson,” “Olson” and “Hanson.” They treated me like a Valkyrie queen. The discharge orders said no cooking or cleaning for six weeks. Was this Waconia, or Valhalla?
Our friends brought me pink, fragrant, Paul Bunyan-size peonies, and tactfully stenciled “No Diving” on their stairway wall.
My mom was relieved to learn I had on brand-spankin’ new underwear.
Though I now know where every bump in the road is, back to Omaha, and the Huskers eventually lost despite my supreme zeal, my “Mother’s Little Helper” pills helped me not care.
Friends brought in dinners, I found a comfortable position to sleep – on my left earlobe – and the doctor says I’ll be pain-free in a month, as a long as I don’t talk, sing, sneeze, hiccup, have gas or breathe.
The doctor’s name: Olson . . . same as the motel manager who drove 90 miles round trip to bring my husband to the E.R. to say those three little words: “Nice going, Klutz.”
A Minnesota vacation: it takes your breath away.
Of course I’ll be back: in orthopedic shoes with rock-climbing cleats, a life preserver, helmet, choke collar, and a new tattoo: “Haste Makes Waste . . . You Dumb Chanhassen.”
---------------------------------------------------
Prayer request: The accident made me so grateful, Lord, that it wasn’t worse, and that I have good overall health so that I can heal fast. It was a unique chance to witness Your stupendous artistry in the way You made our bodies, since my lung healed itself almost immediately. It’s humbling to recognize that the pain I’m feeling now is nothing next to the pain another softball mom is feeling, in the murder of her 16-year-old daughter, Sarah Neal, this past week in Omaha. The recovery road ahead of me is short, Lord, but theirs is for a lifetime. We pray a mantle of protection, strength and peace over each of them. And Lord? I’m determined to live life by Your timing from now on, and not always be in such a rush! (Deuteronomy 31:6)
Saturday, June 25, 2005
MORE OF THE NAME GAME
Here are three more of my favorite names:
-- The dictionary defines “degenerate” as falling below a normal or desirable level of physical, mental or moral qualities, or a sexual deviate. That’s why I’m amused by the name of the first openly lesbian woman on TV, Ellen DeGeneres.
-- Albert Schweitzer, the great humanitarian, physician and missionary, was noted for his philosophy of finding life’s purpose in service to others. So it’s pretty cool that the scientist who recently found red blood cells and blood vessels in a dinosaur bone in South Dakota, supposedly 70 million years old -- a highly effective bombshell against the myth of evolution and a great service to preserving people’s faith in God and the Bible -- is North Carolina State’s Dr. Mary Schweitzer.
-- Another beloved Christian missionary from Africa was Dr. David Livingstone, who courageously explored much of that continent and opened it up to bring the truth of the Bible to countless Africans. Today, we have Dr. David Livingston, an archaeologist, whose explorations into Biblical sites such as Jericho and Ai are proving once again the historical veracity of the Bible. See www.davelivingston.com
What’s in a name? Hmmm. Maybe more than we think.
-------------------------
Praise report: We thank You, Father, for the gentle rains that have blessed the heartland this spring and summer so far. Driving back from Colorado a few weeks ago, we were amazed at how much better drought-stricken western Nebraska looks, and returning from Minnesota earlier this week, we were struck by the beauty of the green fields and the burgeoning crops. Thanks for Your bounty, Water of Life. (John 4:14)
Here are three more of my favorite names:
-- The dictionary defines “degenerate” as falling below a normal or desirable level of physical, mental or moral qualities, or a sexual deviate. That’s why I’m amused by the name of the first openly lesbian woman on TV, Ellen DeGeneres.
-- Albert Schweitzer, the great humanitarian, physician and missionary, was noted for his philosophy of finding life’s purpose in service to others. So it’s pretty cool that the scientist who recently found red blood cells and blood vessels in a dinosaur bone in South Dakota, supposedly 70 million years old -- a highly effective bombshell against the myth of evolution and a great service to preserving people’s faith in God and the Bible -- is North Carolina State’s Dr. Mary Schweitzer.
-- Another beloved Christian missionary from Africa was Dr. David Livingstone, who courageously explored much of that continent and opened it up to bring the truth of the Bible to countless Africans. Today, we have Dr. David Livingston, an archaeologist, whose explorations into Biblical sites such as Jericho and Ai are proving once again the historical veracity of the Bible. See www.davelivingston.com
What’s in a name? Hmmm. Maybe more than we think.
-------------------------
Praise report: We thank You, Father, for the gentle rains that have blessed the heartland this spring and summer so far. Driving back from Colorado a few weeks ago, we were amazed at how much better drought-stricken western Nebraska looks, and returning from Minnesota earlier this week, we were struck by the beauty of the green fields and the burgeoning crops. Thanks for Your bounty, Water of Life. (John 4:14)
Friday, June 24, 2005
NOBODY CAN MAKE UP STUFF LIKE THIS
Among my wacky hobbies, I collect funny names. That’s right: the old friend named “Candy Treat” . . . the OB/GYN named “Dr. Beavers” . . . the Chinese pilot named “Wang Wei,” pronounced “wong way,” whose navigational error caused his jet to crash into Nebraskan Shane Osborn’s aircraft over the South China Sea, causing the Navy lieutenant and crew of 24 to crash-land and be held captive by the Chinese for a few scary days. . . .
Well, I have a new favorite funny name. It appeared in a story about domestic-partner benefits being paid by Fortune 500 companies. The woman is a senior vice president at Prudential. The article revealed that she has been transgendered.
That means she used to be a “he.”
Her name? “Margaret Stumpp.”
--------------------------------------
Prayer request: A reader’s close friend Judy has requested prayer for herself and her family in a tragic turn of events affecting her husband, 51. He had a stroke in late May, a subsequent staph infection, and is now in a coma on life support. She said there is little chance of recovery, and they have already talked with her about disconnecting the machines. Father, we lift Judy and family up to You for tender comfort and loving guidance. We pray that they will discern Your will, and follow it, and be washed in Your peace. Give them strength, Lord. (Psalm 46:1)
Among my wacky hobbies, I collect funny names. That’s right: the old friend named “Candy Treat” . . . the OB/GYN named “Dr. Beavers” . . . the Chinese pilot named “Wang Wei,” pronounced “wong way,” whose navigational error caused his jet to crash into Nebraskan Shane Osborn’s aircraft over the South China Sea, causing the Navy lieutenant and crew of 24 to crash-land and be held captive by the Chinese for a few scary days. . . .
Well, I have a new favorite funny name. It appeared in a story about domestic-partner benefits being paid by Fortune 500 companies. The woman is a senior vice president at Prudential. The article revealed that she has been transgendered.
That means she used to be a “he.”
Her name? “Margaret Stumpp.”
--------------------------------------
Prayer request: A reader’s close friend Judy has requested prayer for herself and her family in a tragic turn of events affecting her husband, 51. He had a stroke in late May, a subsequent staph infection, and is now in a coma on life support. She said there is little chance of recovery, and they have already talked with her about disconnecting the machines. Father, we lift Judy and family up to You for tender comfort and loving guidance. We pray that they will discern Your will, and follow it, and be washed in Your peace. Give them strength, Lord. (Psalm 46:1)
Thursday, June 23, 2005
GREAT TIMING FOR A NICE COINCIDENCE
I really admire the work of education writer Joanne Jacobs of San Jose, Calif. I visit her blog, www.joannejacobs.com, regularly. The other day, I was doing some research on cities with several school districts because of the hubbub caused by an announced takeover of suburban districts by the Omaha Public Schools. I learned that the San Jose metro area has 36 school districts. I couldn’t believe it. So I emailed her.
She wrote back a lovely reply confirming that, chock full of facts, and also mentioned that her father went to the flagship high school of the Omaha Public Schools, downtown’s Central High, and her great-uncle, Morris Jacobs, once served on the Nebraska State Board of Education.
I went her one better: the College World Series is under way this week in Omaha – probably our neatest event of the whole year – and guess who was one of the two co-founders of this marvelous sporting event?
Morris Jacobs!
He was an advertising industry legend and helped found Bozell & Jacobs, a longtime staple in the Omaha ad world, now an international star.
I sent her the page from the CWS website mentioning him, and told her that his name is still revered in the Omaha area. She was delighted. It’s a small world, and often, a wonderful one.
------------------------------------------
Praise report: Thank You, thank You, Lord Jesus, for the great medical news received by pro-life warrior Julie. Her symptoms do not add up to multiple sclerosis. Praise You for this encouraging news. Tests continue, and her condition still remains diagnosed. We pray that You will guide the doctors to a mild and gentle conclusion about a relatively minor malady, and heal it forthwith. (Hebrews 10:23)
I really admire the work of education writer Joanne Jacobs of San Jose, Calif. I visit her blog, www.joannejacobs.com, regularly. The other day, I was doing some research on cities with several school districts because of the hubbub caused by an announced takeover of suburban districts by the Omaha Public Schools. I learned that the San Jose metro area has 36 school districts. I couldn’t believe it. So I emailed her.
She wrote back a lovely reply confirming that, chock full of facts, and also mentioned that her father went to the flagship high school of the Omaha Public Schools, downtown’s Central High, and her great-uncle, Morris Jacobs, once served on the Nebraska State Board of Education.
I went her one better: the College World Series is under way this week in Omaha – probably our neatest event of the whole year – and guess who was one of the two co-founders of this marvelous sporting event?
Morris Jacobs!
He was an advertising industry legend and helped found Bozell & Jacobs, a longtime staple in the Omaha ad world, now an international star.
I sent her the page from the CWS website mentioning him, and told her that his name is still revered in the Omaha area. She was delighted. It’s a small world, and often, a wonderful one.
------------------------------------------
Praise report: Thank You, thank You, Lord Jesus, for the great medical news received by pro-life warrior Julie. Her symptoms do not add up to multiple sclerosis. Praise You for this encouraging news. Tests continue, and her condition still remains diagnosed. We pray that You will guide the doctors to a mild and gentle conclusion about a relatively minor malady, and heal it forthwith. (Hebrews 10:23)
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
DailySusan resumes today after an unfortunate weekend mishap. Three hints: “clumsy oaf,” “hospitalization” and “narcotics are our friends.” I’m on the comeback trail now, feeling much better, and will tell the whole embarrassing story on Sunday.
---------------------------------------
A WISE ASSESSMENT
Over the weekend, Maddy, 5, got to go to Camp Snoopy, the wonderful indoor amusement park at Mall of America in the Twin Cities.
Her favorite was the log ride, which got her and her daddy wet approximately 4,000 times, a great memory for a Father’s Day spent out of town.
Maddy may grow up to be a tax auditor or government official, however. She is quite the sober-sided realist. Asked whether she would like to go on the roller coaster, she looked it over, and said:
“No. That could be a ‘frow-up’ situation.”
-----------------------------------------
Prayer request: There’s a 13-year-old boy from Blair, Neb., who has had a stroke. He has partial paralysis on the right side and no speech. The 100% blockage of an artery in his head means that surgery is not an option at this time. The family must decide by Friday where to have him placed for long-term rehabilitation. They have asked for as much prayer cover as possible. Father God, this is not what summer is supposed to be for a boy of 13! This is not how parents are supposed to be feeling! Oh, Lord, have mercy, and show us all Your power and love with a healing and restoration that is clearly from You. We are destitute, Jesus, and You are our only hope: hear our prayers. (Psalm 102:17)
---------------------------------------
A WISE ASSESSMENT
Over the weekend, Maddy, 5, got to go to Camp Snoopy, the wonderful indoor amusement park at Mall of America in the Twin Cities.
Her favorite was the log ride, which got her and her daddy wet approximately 4,000 times, a great memory for a Father’s Day spent out of town.
Maddy may grow up to be a tax auditor or government official, however. She is quite the sober-sided realist. Asked whether she would like to go on the roller coaster, she looked it over, and said:
“No. That could be a ‘frow-up’ situation.”
-----------------------------------------
Prayer request: There’s a 13-year-old boy from Blair, Neb., who has had a stroke. He has partial paralysis on the right side and no speech. The 100% blockage of an artery in his head means that surgery is not an option at this time. The family must decide by Friday where to have him placed for long-term rehabilitation. They have asked for as much prayer cover as possible. Father God, this is not what summer is supposed to be for a boy of 13! This is not how parents are supposed to be feeling! Oh, Lord, have mercy, and show us all Your power and love with a healing and restoration that is clearly from You. We are destitute, Jesus, and You are our only hope: hear our prayers. (Psalm 102:17)
Thursday, June 16, 2005
DailySusan will resume on Monday, June 20. Happy Father’s Day, all you daddios!
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HE SHOULD'VE SAID, 'THAT'S A HORSE OF A DIFFERENT COLOR'
In the “Whatta Woild” department, a friend sent this anecdote collected from a student newspaper at Oxford University in England:
It seems a local college student was arrested and jailed for a night after he “verbally abused” a police horse. He was fined for "causing harassment, harm or distress," after he repeatedly called the officer's horse "gay."
The student, Steve Brown, asked one officer, "How do you feel about your horse being gay?" while declaring that a second officer’s horse was clearly not gay.
This apparently went on for a while. Eventually, Brown's offer of an apology to the horse was rejected. He was handcuffed and taken by the officers to the police station.
A police spokesman said the "homophobic comments" were offensive to the policeman and his horse, as well as the general public.
Is this made up? Neighhhh. But I say: horsefeathers! If everyone concerned in this incident hadn’t acted like . . . the other end of a horse . . . life would’ve galloped along a lot more smoothly.
-----------------------------
Prayer request: Our longtime dentist, Greg, is so worried about the cancer that his wife Linda is battling. He’s such a gentle and sweet man, and did such a whale of a great job on my new crown! Lord Jesus, crown HIM with Your peace and remind him that while life here on earth is fleeting, our life together with You is eternal and permanent. Bless his efforts to make Linda comfortable and enjoy their time together, cherishing every day as a gift from You. (Psalm 125:1)
-----------------
HE SHOULD'VE SAID, 'THAT'S A HORSE OF A DIFFERENT COLOR'
In the “Whatta Woild” department, a friend sent this anecdote collected from a student newspaper at Oxford University in England:
It seems a local college student was arrested and jailed for a night after he “verbally abused” a police horse. He was fined for "causing harassment, harm or distress," after he repeatedly called the officer's horse "gay."
The student, Steve Brown, asked one officer, "How do you feel about your horse being gay?" while declaring that a second officer’s horse was clearly not gay.
This apparently went on for a while. Eventually, Brown's offer of an apology to the horse was rejected. He was handcuffed and taken by the officers to the police station.
A police spokesman said the "homophobic comments" were offensive to the policeman and his horse, as well as the general public.
Is this made up? Neighhhh. But I say: horsefeathers! If everyone concerned in this incident hadn’t acted like . . . the other end of a horse . . . life would’ve galloped along a lot more smoothly.
-----------------------------
Prayer request: Our longtime dentist, Greg, is so worried about the cancer that his wife Linda is battling. He’s such a gentle and sweet man, and did such a whale of a great job on my new crown! Lord Jesus, crown HIM with Your peace and remind him that while life here on earth is fleeting, our life together with You is eternal and permanent. Bless his efforts to make Linda comfortable and enjoy their time together, cherishing every day as a gift from You. (Psalm 125:1)
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
THE COLD, HARD TRUTH ABOUT SWIMMING IN JUNE
They just HAD to go. It was only in the 70s, and a cold front and storm clouds were a’comin’. Even so, the kids of the household wanted to go swimming, and nothing could stop them.
After a couple of hours, they were back, exhausted and happy that they got a little pool time in before the winds picked up. The little one, blue-lipped, wrapped herself up in her towel, shivering pitifully.
“What’s the matter? Are you cold?” I asked.
“Even my EYELIDS are cold!” she wailed.
-----------------------------------------
Prayer request: The new baby, Dylan Michael, who belongs to the courageous young single mother, Michaela, is having some tests regarding a possible health problem. Oh, Lord, may it be nothing, may You comfort and quiet Michaela’s heart, and may Your guiding Hand be with the doctors and nurses as they investigate their concerns thoroughly. (Psalm 46:1,2)
They just HAD to go. It was only in the 70s, and a cold front and storm clouds were a’comin’. Even so, the kids of the household wanted to go swimming, and nothing could stop them.
After a couple of hours, they were back, exhausted and happy that they got a little pool time in before the winds picked up. The little one, blue-lipped, wrapped herself up in her towel, shivering pitifully.
“What’s the matter? Are you cold?” I asked.
“Even my EYELIDS are cold!” she wailed.
-----------------------------------------
Prayer request: The new baby, Dylan Michael, who belongs to the courageous young single mother, Michaela, is having some tests regarding a possible health problem. Oh, Lord, may it be nothing, may You comfort and quiet Michaela’s heart, and may Your guiding Hand be with the doctors and nurses as they investigate their concerns thoroughly. (Psalm 46:1,2)
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
'OUR' BABY IS HERE!
Just another reason to raise the flag today:
A few months ago, DailySusan.com readers reached out to a pregnant young woman who was on the verge of having an abortion, but then decided to bear the child and brave the storms of single motherhood. In an impromptu baby shower via emails, cards, money and baby gifts, we showed her God’s love and support in a tangible way.
It’s my distinct pleasure to report that on Monday, Dylan Michael arrived, in perfect health, weighing 7 pounds, 7 ounces, and measuring 20.5 inches.
His mother, Michaela, is doing great, too, as is her mentor from church, Joan, who served as her Lamaze coach and has been literally with her every step of the way.
It’s such a privilege to be able to stand up for life and encourage this young mother. Thank you for your prayers, and please keep it up!
--------------------------------
Praise report: Yet another flag-waver, Lord, is Your servant Cecilia, whose birthday is today. She works as a teacher of children, and a dedicated one at that, enlightening and inspiring young minds with a dedication toward excellence and encouragement. Thank You for teachers like her, and bless her on this special day by fulfilling the desires of her heart. (Psalm 37:4)
Just another reason to raise the flag today:
A few months ago, DailySusan.com readers reached out to a pregnant young woman who was on the verge of having an abortion, but then decided to bear the child and brave the storms of single motherhood. In an impromptu baby shower via emails, cards, money and baby gifts, we showed her God’s love and support in a tangible way.
It’s my distinct pleasure to report that on Monday, Dylan Michael arrived, in perfect health, weighing 7 pounds, 7 ounces, and measuring 20.5 inches.
His mother, Michaela, is doing great, too, as is her mentor from church, Joan, who served as her Lamaze coach and has been literally with her every step of the way.
It’s such a privilege to be able to stand up for life and encourage this young mother. Thank you for your prayers, and please keep it up!
--------------------------------
Praise report: Yet another flag-waver, Lord, is Your servant Cecilia, whose birthday is today. She works as a teacher of children, and a dedicated one at that, enlightening and inspiring young minds with a dedication toward excellence and encouragement. Thank You for teachers like her, and bless her on this special day by fulfilling the desires of her heart. (Psalm 37:4)
Monday, June 13, 2005
FEET OVER THE DOORSILL
One of our favorite softball dads on our daughter’s traveling team is a high-ranking firefighter. This past weekend at a tournament in Tulsa, he and his wife were in their motel room watching a movie when the phone rang.
It seems one of the softball moms had had too many margaritas . . . and had passed out on the floor of the party room downstairs. Since he was a big, strong firefighter, could he come down and help the girls carry her upstairs to her room?
One can only imagine what he was thinking as he came off the elevator and saw her feet sprawled out on the doorsill of the party room. Tsk, tsk!
SURPRISE!!!!
It was just a ruse to get him to come downstairs for his surprise birthday party. He was met with a tiny plastic toy firefighter’s hat, a cake with lots of candles, and lots and lots of jokes and good wishes.
------------------------------------
Praise report: We are elated, O Lord, to learn that Andrea, the girl with the head injury from last Tuesday’s prayer request, has come through surgery with flying colors. Doctors are amazed, and the family is praising You and the power of prayer. Thank You, Sweet Jesus, for being so worthy of our trust and so willing to act upon our stated needs. (1 Peter 5:7)
One of our favorite softball dads on our daughter’s traveling team is a high-ranking firefighter. This past weekend at a tournament in Tulsa, he and his wife were in their motel room watching a movie when the phone rang.
It seems one of the softball moms had had too many margaritas . . . and had passed out on the floor of the party room downstairs. Since he was a big, strong firefighter, could he come down and help the girls carry her upstairs to her room?
One can only imagine what he was thinking as he came off the elevator and saw her feet sprawled out on the doorsill of the party room. Tsk, tsk!
SURPRISE!!!!
It was just a ruse to get him to come downstairs for his surprise birthday party. He was met with a tiny plastic toy firefighter’s hat, a cake with lots of candles, and lots and lots of jokes and good wishes.
------------------------------------
Praise report: We are elated, O Lord, to learn that Andrea, the girl with the head injury from last Tuesday’s prayer request, has come through surgery with flying colors. Doctors are amazed, and the family is praising You and the power of prayer. Thank You, Sweet Jesus, for being so worthy of our trust and so willing to act upon our stated needs. (1 Peter 5:7)
Sunday, June 12, 2005
THE GREAT ENGAGEMENT RING-AROUND-THE-ROSIE
There be three things which are too wonderful for me,
Yea, four which I know not:
The way of an eagle in the air;
The way of a serpent upon a rock;
The way of a ship in the midst of the sea;
And the way of a man with a maid.
— Proverbs 30:18,19
You already know it’s not your typical engagement story: he asked her dad for her hand at “King Kong Gyros.”
Then he found the perfect ring, but when he came back with the money, it had been sold to someone else.
He found another one with an even bigger stone and better clarity for only $30 more. He ordered it.
But there was a snafu with his credit, he couldn’t get a hold of the salesperson, and the order was delayed.
They had to fly in the setting from California, set the stone, and overnight-deliver it to him so that he could propose on the day he had planned.
But Rodney and Alisha are college students, working in Colorado this summer, without a mailing address. The store won’t mail to a post-office box.
Sooooo . . . Rodney, who works for the local police department, asked the wife of another officer to receive his ring at her house.
But the store, trying to be helpful, sent it a day EARLY. So she missed it.
The Fed Ex doortag said they’d be back at 4:30 p.m. the NEXT day . . . too late for Rodney’s plan to propose on a mountaintop, like a line in a song they loved by Christian singer Bebo Norman, “The Turning Point.”
He HAD to get that ring. He searched frantically for the Fed Ex phone number. No luck.
A fellow officer said police dispatch had access to numbers not available to the public. Great! But wait: Alisha works in that office!
Rodney snuck in. Alisha’s computer and the other dispatcher’s are back to back. Alisha didn’t see him. He presented a note to the other dispatcher. She located the number of the Fed Ex manager who would be called if the store were burglarized.
Based on the tracking number off the doortag, he told Rodney the truck would be at a store in the next town, seven miles away, in a half-hour.
His sergeant gave him time off to fetch the ring. Unable to take a patrol car because it was out of the jurisdiction, he biked home, got in his truck, and rushed over there.
The Fed Ex manager said the store was on the right, so his eyes were glued there. Suddenly, though, he saw the Fed Ex truck coming TOWARD him.
Screech! He cut people off, made an illegal U-turn, got the bird from a passing car . . . realizing too late he was still in his police uniform . . . but caught up with the truck at the store a distance back, on the OTHER side of the road.
He ran in, exclaiming: “You have what I need!”
Everyone stared . . .
. . . but the deliveryman said, “You must be the one looking for me. What is it you can’t wait for?”
“My engagement ring!”
Everyone cheered. He handed it over. Rodney peeked. Yes, it was amazing . . . perfect.
Next afternoon was dark and stormy, but Rodney and Alisha set off on their hike, 2 ½ hours to the top. The 360-degree views were incredible.
They sat on a log. Rodney read a Bible passage about the Last Supper. They shared bread and grape juice, and prayed.
Rodney had Alisha stand, and gave her a card. While she read it, he pulled out the ring and knelt.
"Alisha, will you be my Queen?"
The answer was a resounding yes.
After all that . . . it had BETTER be! Talk about irresistible.
Rodney says that, since they took communion and invited God to be with them, the skies above them opened to a crystal blue and the sun shown right on top of them, all the way back down the mountain.
May their whole marriage be like that.
Because boy, does that bridegroom deserve to live happily ever after.
----------------------------------
PRAYER REQUEST: We lift up to You, Lord, a good friend, Julie, who is searching for a passion in life. She is an excellent wife, mom, daughter, employee, friend and sister, but wants to have a strong direction in life that she knows is Your will, and to feel the excitement and purpose that comes with that certainty. Savior, what a worthwhile quest. Grant her heart’s desire, we pray. (Deuteronomy 13:18)
There be three things which are too wonderful for me,
Yea, four which I know not:
The way of an eagle in the air;
The way of a serpent upon a rock;
The way of a ship in the midst of the sea;
And the way of a man with a maid.
— Proverbs 30:18,19
You already know it’s not your typical engagement story: he asked her dad for her hand at “King Kong Gyros.”
Then he found the perfect ring, but when he came back with the money, it had been sold to someone else.
He found another one with an even bigger stone and better clarity for only $30 more. He ordered it.
But there was a snafu with his credit, he couldn’t get a hold of the salesperson, and the order was delayed.
They had to fly in the setting from California, set the stone, and overnight-deliver it to him so that he could propose on the day he had planned.
But Rodney and Alisha are college students, working in Colorado this summer, without a mailing address. The store won’t mail to a post-office box.
Sooooo . . . Rodney, who works for the local police department, asked the wife of another officer to receive his ring at her house.
But the store, trying to be helpful, sent it a day EARLY. So she missed it.
The Fed Ex doortag said they’d be back at 4:30 p.m. the NEXT day . . . too late for Rodney’s plan to propose on a mountaintop, like a line in a song they loved by Christian singer Bebo Norman, “The Turning Point.”
He HAD to get that ring. He searched frantically for the Fed Ex phone number. No luck.
A fellow officer said police dispatch had access to numbers not available to the public. Great! But wait: Alisha works in that office!
Rodney snuck in. Alisha’s computer and the other dispatcher’s are back to back. Alisha didn’t see him. He presented a note to the other dispatcher. She located the number of the Fed Ex manager who would be called if the store were burglarized.
Based on the tracking number off the doortag, he told Rodney the truck would be at a store in the next town, seven miles away, in a half-hour.
His sergeant gave him time off to fetch the ring. Unable to take a patrol car because it was out of the jurisdiction, he biked home, got in his truck, and rushed over there.
The Fed Ex manager said the store was on the right, so his eyes were glued there. Suddenly, though, he saw the Fed Ex truck coming TOWARD him.
Screech! He cut people off, made an illegal U-turn, got the bird from a passing car . . . realizing too late he was still in his police uniform . . . but caught up with the truck at the store a distance back, on the OTHER side of the road.
He ran in, exclaiming: “You have what I need!”
Everyone stared . . .
. . . but the deliveryman said, “You must be the one looking for me. What is it you can’t wait for?”
“My engagement ring!”
Everyone cheered. He handed it over. Rodney peeked. Yes, it was amazing . . . perfect.
Next afternoon was dark and stormy, but Rodney and Alisha set off on their hike, 2 ½ hours to the top. The 360-degree views were incredible.
They sat on a log. Rodney read a Bible passage about the Last Supper. They shared bread and grape juice, and prayed.
Rodney had Alisha stand, and gave her a card. While she read it, he pulled out the ring and knelt.
"Alisha, will you be my Queen?"
The answer was a resounding yes.
After all that . . . it had BETTER be! Talk about irresistible.
Rodney says that, since they took communion and invited God to be with them, the skies above them opened to a crystal blue and the sun shown right on top of them, all the way back down the mountain.
May their whole marriage be like that.
Because boy, does that bridegroom deserve to live happily ever after.
----------------------------------
PRAYER REQUEST: We lift up to You, Lord, a good friend, Julie, who is searching for a passion in life. She is an excellent wife, mom, daughter, employee, friend and sister, but wants to have a strong direction in life that she knows is Your will, and to feel the excitement and purpose that comes with that certainty. Savior, what a worthwhile quest. Grant her heart’s desire, we pray. (Deuteronomy 13:18)
Saturday, June 11, 2005
WHEN IT TAKES A NATIONAL CHAMP TO BEAT YOU
One of the softball dads on our daughter’s traveling team was watching the televised NCAA softball finals, UCLA vs. Michigan. He noticed a freshman girl for the Lady Wolverines who smashed an RBI single and a 3-run home run to basically win the national championship for her team.
And he looked at her . . . and looked at her . . .
. . . and did a little checking, and finally, he recognized her: she was the player who homer’ed against our Nebraska-based traveling team last summer in the American Fastpitch Association national tournament in Beaumont, Texas. They beat us, 1-0, sending us back to Nebraska out of the running. Her team wound up second.
Heyyyy! Suddenly, we don’t feel so bad about that loss. Not so bad at all!
---------------------------------
Prayer request: A dear friend and faithful pro-life warrior named Julie is facing a possible diagnosis of multiple sclerosis after a lesion was discovered on a brain scan. Then again, it could be something minor. Father, we pray for mercy and healing for Your loyal and loving servant, and comfort for her husband and children. Let this be a “close shave” and through their faith, let this trial remind them of Your goodness and glory. (Jeremiah 17:14)
One of the softball dads on our daughter’s traveling team was watching the televised NCAA softball finals, UCLA vs. Michigan. He noticed a freshman girl for the Lady Wolverines who smashed an RBI single and a 3-run home run to basically win the national championship for her team.
And he looked at her . . . and looked at her . . .
. . . and did a little checking, and finally, he recognized her: she was the player who homer’ed against our Nebraska-based traveling team last summer in the American Fastpitch Association national tournament in Beaumont, Texas. They beat us, 1-0, sending us back to Nebraska out of the running. Her team wound up second.
Heyyyy! Suddenly, we don’t feel so bad about that loss. Not so bad at all!
---------------------------------
Prayer request: A dear friend and faithful pro-life warrior named Julie is facing a possible diagnosis of multiple sclerosis after a lesion was discovered on a brain scan. Then again, it could be something minor. Father, we pray for mercy and healing for Your loyal and loving servant, and comfort for her husband and children. Let this be a “close shave” and through their faith, let this trial remind them of Your goodness and glory. (Jeremiah 17:14)
Friday, June 10, 2005
A ONE-WEEK PERSPECTIVE ON A BIG, BAD BIRTHDAY
Here’s a T-shirt I’m going to get:
I'M NOT 50! I'M $49.95 PLUS TAX.
-----------------------------------
Prayer request: Father, there’s a push toward making children in Nebraska attend government preschool and all-day kindergarten at taxpayer expense. It must make You sad to see moms and dads so willing to abdicate the responsibilities – and joys! – of rearing their own precious children for the lion’s share of the day, just because it’s convenient and somebody else is paying for it. We come up against this proposal, which has been shown to not help children academically anyway, and plead for the truth to come out so that these plans won’t materialize. Help parents be more faithful, like You. (Psalm 9:10)
Here’s a T-shirt I’m going to get:
I'M NOT 50! I'M $49.95 PLUS TAX.
-----------------------------------
Prayer request: Father, there’s a push toward making children in Nebraska attend government preschool and all-day kindergarten at taxpayer expense. It must make You sad to see moms and dads so willing to abdicate the responsibilities – and joys! – of rearing their own precious children for the lion’s share of the day, just because it’s convenient and somebody else is paying for it. We come up against this proposal, which has been shown to not help children academically anyway, and plead for the truth to come out so that these plans won’t materialize. Help parents be more faithful, like You. (Psalm 9:10)
Thursday, June 09, 2005
THOSE PRYING NEIGHBORS
We have that wonderful kind of neighborhood where everyone knows they’re welcome to borrow stuff even if the owner isn’t home, and the item will be back in place at the earliest possible moment with a pan of brownies or whatever as a thank-you.
Until my neighbor let me know she’d borrowed it, I never missed it and didn’t even know we owned such a thing as a pry bar. She is demolishing her kitchen this summer, and had a bunch of teenage boys removing the floor tile. I was gone for most of the day, so when she couldn’t raise me by phone, she popped over to our barn on a hunch, and found the tool with no problem.
She emailed what she had done. I emailed her back a little quiz on what we use our pry bar for:
A. To take my hands off chocolate.
B. To take my hubby’s hands off the remote.
C. To take our older kids' hands off their cell phones.
D. To get Maddy out of bed in the morning.
E. All of the above.
On second thought, we’d all be happier if she’d just keep it, and we can hang on to our favorite hobbies with no interference.
--------------------------
Prayer request: It has been an extremely difficult year and a half for Nick, 24. First, his fiancée died in a weather-related car accident. Six months later, on the day before his
sister’s wedding, doctors diagnosed a cancerous tumor on his upper arm. He has withstood months of chemo, had surgery with a rod replacing his bone, and then chemo again, all in the past year. Nick was doing so well . . . only to have a spot show up on his lung this past week. Lord, we are glad to hear he has a large family of believers praying for him. We pray in one accord that it will turn out to be benign. Revive Nick’s hope and purpose, and save him, for Your glory. (Psalm 138:7)
We have that wonderful kind of neighborhood where everyone knows they’re welcome to borrow stuff even if the owner isn’t home, and the item will be back in place at the earliest possible moment with a pan of brownies or whatever as a thank-you.
Until my neighbor let me know she’d borrowed it, I never missed it and didn’t even know we owned such a thing as a pry bar. She is demolishing her kitchen this summer, and had a bunch of teenage boys removing the floor tile. I was gone for most of the day, so when she couldn’t raise me by phone, she popped over to our barn on a hunch, and found the tool with no problem.
She emailed what she had done. I emailed her back a little quiz on what we use our pry bar for:
A. To take my hands off chocolate.
B. To take my hubby’s hands off the remote.
C. To take our older kids' hands off their cell phones.
D. To get Maddy out of bed in the morning.
E. All of the above.
On second thought, we’d all be happier if she’d just keep it, and we can hang on to our favorite hobbies with no interference.
--------------------------
Prayer request: It has been an extremely difficult year and a half for Nick, 24. First, his fiancée died in a weather-related car accident. Six months later, on the day before his
sister’s wedding, doctors diagnosed a cancerous tumor on his upper arm. He has withstood months of chemo, had surgery with a rod replacing his bone, and then chemo again, all in the past year. Nick was doing so well . . . only to have a spot show up on his lung this past week. Lord, we are glad to hear he has a large family of believers praying for him. We pray in one accord that it will turn out to be benign. Revive Nick’s hope and purpose, and save him, for Your glory. (Psalm 138:7)
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
CAT WITH NINE LIVES AND 19 MOVES
We were standing on the back patio visiting with some neighbors who’d dropped by, while Maddy held court in her kiddie wading pool.
All of a sudden, here came our long-haired, orange and white, extremely lazy and relatively fat feline – we call him “Fat Louie” – high-tailing it down the steps from our barn’s upper level. He was being hotly pursued across the back yard by these neighbors’ equally fat but also fleet female black Labrador, Bo.
Fat Louie scrambled around the wading pool and up the beam holding up our patio roof. Then he scampered down and around, and plunged into the wading pool – oops! it’s wet! – thought better of it, and dragged his drenched fur back out. He zoomed over to the house and clambered up to the top of our brick Texas barbecue, clutching the top of it and hissing downward at the panting, ecstatic dog.
All this transpired within the blink of an eye. We couldn’t believe what we saw. Fat Louis is like a Burgermeister. He doesn’t move much all year. In fact, that was as much as we’ve seen our barn cat move in the five years he’s owned us. It’s good to know he’s still got it if he needs it. Whew!
-----------------------------------
Prayer request: Lord, we ask you to be with my friend Kathleen, who has lost her godson to a mental illness and the sickening downward spiral of despair. He was only in his 20s, and such a child of promise and leadership. Let her know how much he loved her, and let her know that You are there for her and for the family at this painful and difficult time. (Isaiah 30:18)
We were standing on the back patio visiting with some neighbors who’d dropped by, while Maddy held court in her kiddie wading pool.
All of a sudden, here came our long-haired, orange and white, extremely lazy and relatively fat feline – we call him “Fat Louie” – high-tailing it down the steps from our barn’s upper level. He was being hotly pursued across the back yard by these neighbors’ equally fat but also fleet female black Labrador, Bo.
Fat Louie scrambled around the wading pool and up the beam holding up our patio roof. Then he scampered down and around, and plunged into the wading pool – oops! it’s wet! – thought better of it, and dragged his drenched fur back out. He zoomed over to the house and clambered up to the top of our brick Texas barbecue, clutching the top of it and hissing downward at the panting, ecstatic dog.
All this transpired within the blink of an eye. We couldn’t believe what we saw. Fat Louis is like a Burgermeister. He doesn’t move much all year. In fact, that was as much as we’ve seen our barn cat move in the five years he’s owned us. It’s good to know he’s still got it if he needs it. Whew!
-----------------------------------
Prayer request: Lord, we ask you to be with my friend Kathleen, who has lost her godson to a mental illness and the sickening downward spiral of despair. He was only in his 20s, and such a child of promise and leadership. Let her know how much he loved her, and let her know that You are there for her and for the family at this painful and difficult time. (Isaiah 30:18)
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
YOU CAN RUN, BUT YOU CAN'T HIDE
Speaking of under-the-radar big, bad birthdays, a friend named Fred tried to avoid the traditional hazing from Executive Row the day he hit the Big 5-0 by quietly scheduling a business trip to South Carolina.
He smugly boarded the plane and arrived in the insurance field office half a country away . . . only to find that they had been tipped off! They had decorated the office with black streamers, and had a black cake with white icing and an old buzzard on it.
He was subjected to all the nasty insults and good-natured ribbing that he thought he was avoiding with his tricky gambit.
They wouldn’t let him eat the cake ‘til he went home with the boss and had the boss’ four grandchildren sing "Happy Birthday to Old Fred" in a wonderful southern drawl, amazed at the amount of flames that 50 candles put off.
When he got back, no one would admit to a thing. It was a “coup de fogie.”
----------------------------------
Prayer request: A friend’s co-worker has a daughter Andrea who was hit in the head on Memorial Day and is going into surgery Wednesday morning to drain the water that has accumulated on her brain. The surgeons don't have a good outlook, but Father, we know You are able. We plead with You on this precious family’s behalf for a miraculous cure, but if it is not to be, we praise Your name even still for her sweet life. (Isaiah 48:9)
Speaking of under-the-radar big, bad birthdays, a friend named Fred tried to avoid the traditional hazing from Executive Row the day he hit the Big 5-0 by quietly scheduling a business trip to South Carolina.
He smugly boarded the plane and arrived in the insurance field office half a country away . . . only to find that they had been tipped off! They had decorated the office with black streamers, and had a black cake with white icing and an old buzzard on it.
He was subjected to all the nasty insults and good-natured ribbing that he thought he was avoiding with his tricky gambit.
They wouldn’t let him eat the cake ‘til he went home with the boss and had the boss’ four grandchildren sing "Happy Birthday to Old Fred" in a wonderful southern drawl, amazed at the amount of flames that 50 candles put off.
When he got back, no one would admit to a thing. It was a “coup de fogie.”
----------------------------------
Prayer request: A friend’s co-worker has a daughter Andrea who was hit in the head on Memorial Day and is going into surgery Wednesday morning to drain the water that has accumulated on her brain. The surgeons don't have a good outlook, but Father, we know You are able. We plead with You on this precious family’s behalf for a miraculous cure, but if it is not to be, we praise Your name even still for her sweet life. (Isaiah 48:9)
Monday, June 06, 2005
A BIRTHDAY WISH I WISH I HADN'T GOTTEN
Is it too much to ask for old friends to cushion the blow of a big, bad birthday with tender words of encouragement and warm wishes of happiness?
But nooooooo. My friend the nurse told me breezily that it’s time to schedule my first screening colonoscopy.
Some birthday greeting, that!
She added, “The Versed is a wonder drug but the prep to get clean is a killer.”
You know, I really, REALLY hate the word “prep” as used by medical personnel. I guess I’d rather have my birthday spankings after all.
----------------------------
Prayer request: Safe travel and a great time, Lord, for our daughter and her softball teammates at a hitting camp in Dallas for these few days. Help us teach Eden better organizational skills for her college search, and give her a determination to practice, too, so that her dream of playing college ball can come true. (Deuteronomy 11:19)
Is it too much to ask for old friends to cushion the blow of a big, bad birthday with tender words of encouragement and warm wishes of happiness?
But nooooooo. My friend the nurse told me breezily that it’s time to schedule my first screening colonoscopy.
Some birthday greeting, that!
She added, “The Versed is a wonder drug but the prep to get clean is a killer.”
You know, I really, REALLY hate the word “prep” as used by medical personnel. I guess I’d rather have my birthday spankings after all.
----------------------------
Prayer request: Safe travel and a great time, Lord, for our daughter and her softball teammates at a hitting camp in Dallas for these few days. Help us teach Eden better organizational skills for her college search, and give her a determination to practice, too, so that her dream of playing college ball can come true. (Deuteronomy 11:19)
Sunday, June 05, 2005
THE OTHER "F" WORD
And even to your old age I am he;
and even to hoar hairs will I carry you;
I have made, and I will bear;
even I will carry, and will deliver you.
— Isaiah 46:4
One week before a big, bad birthday, you should go to the storm cellar with dark chocolate, a soft quilt and several junk novels, and stay there ‘til it alllllll blows over.
Wish I’d done that last week. Instead, I turned 50 in the harsh light of day, beset by constant reminders of my advancing age. With no recourse, I now become that “f” word . . . a “fogie.”
My only-slightly-younger brother proclaimed that I was passing the HALF-CENTURY mark – hahahahaha – asking with imitation compassion whether this birthday marked “the ultimate f-word.” He urged me to have Lasik eye surgery “so that we can compare our corneal flaps.” Sheesh. We USED to have FUN conversations. Now we’re down to cholesterol counts and dental work?
EWWW!!!
We went to the zoo. We saw the elephants. I stared at the deep grooves and ruts, the hardened rivulets and fossilized canyons, the alligator patches and dry, scaly plateaus. I just KNEW, next time I looked in the mirror, that’s what I’d see . . . ON MY FACE.
AAAIIIEEE!!!
My mail was cruel. Guess what: “nifty” and “fifty” rhyme! Hahahahaha. And why, this week of all weeks, did I have to receive my redrafted Last Will and Testament? Doesn’t our overpriced law firm, Low & Blow, have any tact? “The party of the first part, dating back to the prior mid-century, whose crib is listed on the National Register of Historic Places, shall hereinafter not buy any green bananas. . . .”
OY!!!
Even at the grocery store, I suffered. I got in line behind a little old lady with white hair. She wrote a check. It took forever. She was trying to get cash back, but miscalculated. “Do you have a dime?” the cashier asked loudly. “I’d have to give you $29.90 in cash, the way you wrote this check. But if you’d give me a dime, I could give you $30 even.”
“Ohhhhh!” the she replied, confused. Hands shaking, she fished her wallet out of her purse. It had 14 rubber bands around it. Something in me snapped.
I plucked a dime out of my own wallet and handed it to the cashier. “Here! Here you go!”
The little old lady turned to look at me with gratitude . . .
. . . but the world stood still . . .
. . . BECAUSE SHE HAD A LUSTROUS WHITE MOUSTACHE!!!
My eyes locked onto it. My entire being clenched.
THAT’S what’s next for me? Too old to do simple math, but with facial hair that’s the envy of teenage boys coast to coast?
You see, our third daughter is working this summer at a laser hair-removal salon. With my big birthday coming up, everyone has been kidding me about the possibility of getting a niiiiiice discount.
Eyes still riveted on that moustache, I listened as the cashier asked if I had a store card. No, I didn’t.
The old crone leaned over: “She can use mine!” She grinned, hairily.
Turns out, with her card, I saved $9.70! Not bad, for a dime’s investment.
I got to thinking: that’s how old age is. You just don’t know it while you’re getting there.
You put so much effort into rearing your children, you pucker your face. But you wind up with wonderful children. Good investment.
You try your best, for decades, to focus on the important people in your life. What do you get? Worn-out eyesight. But luckily, hindsight’s 20-20. Look back, and you’ll see: it was worth it.
You throw in a little kindness now and then, “just because,” not expecting anything, and you get a spectacular return, like 970 percent.
Getting old . . . is fun and easy and pays dividends!?!
Yep! Because you have Help. He’s with you, all the way. Talk about old . . . He’s the ULTIMATE Fogie!
Anyway, that $9.70 is a nice down-payment on my first hair-removal.
Maybe old age won’t be so hairy after all!
-----------------------------
PRAYER REQUEST: Lord, there’s someone very special whose 50th birthday is right after mine. Steve has had an incredibly difficult year. But he’s still a very, very precious friend and someone I hope will be making me laugh well into the denture years. Lord Jesus, pull him close and grant my fervent birthday wish for us both to finish up strong, with happy, healthy, Godly “second halves.” (Psalm 71:17,18)
And even to your old age I am he;
and even to hoar hairs will I carry you;
I have made, and I will bear;
even I will carry, and will deliver you.
— Isaiah 46:4
One week before a big, bad birthday, you should go to the storm cellar with dark chocolate, a soft quilt and several junk novels, and stay there ‘til it alllllll blows over.
Wish I’d done that last week. Instead, I turned 50 in the harsh light of day, beset by constant reminders of my advancing age. With no recourse, I now become that “f” word . . . a “fogie.”
My only-slightly-younger brother proclaimed that I was passing the HALF-CENTURY mark – hahahahaha – asking with imitation compassion whether this birthday marked “the ultimate f-word.” He urged me to have Lasik eye surgery “so that we can compare our corneal flaps.” Sheesh. We USED to have FUN conversations. Now we’re down to cholesterol counts and dental work?
EWWW!!!
We went to the zoo. We saw the elephants. I stared at the deep grooves and ruts, the hardened rivulets and fossilized canyons, the alligator patches and dry, scaly plateaus. I just KNEW, next time I looked in the mirror, that’s what I’d see . . . ON MY FACE.
AAAIIIEEE!!!
My mail was cruel. Guess what: “nifty” and “fifty” rhyme! Hahahahaha. And why, this week of all weeks, did I have to receive my redrafted Last Will and Testament? Doesn’t our overpriced law firm, Low & Blow, have any tact? “The party of the first part, dating back to the prior mid-century, whose crib is listed on the National Register of Historic Places, shall hereinafter not buy any green bananas. . . .”
OY!!!
Even at the grocery store, I suffered. I got in line behind a little old lady with white hair. She wrote a check. It took forever. She was trying to get cash back, but miscalculated. “Do you have a dime?” the cashier asked loudly. “I’d have to give you $29.90 in cash, the way you wrote this check. But if you’d give me a dime, I could give you $30 even.”
“Ohhhhh!” the she replied, confused. Hands shaking, she fished her wallet out of her purse. It had 14 rubber bands around it. Something in me snapped.
I plucked a dime out of my own wallet and handed it to the cashier. “Here! Here you go!”
The little old lady turned to look at me with gratitude . . .
. . . but the world stood still . . .
. . . BECAUSE SHE HAD A LUSTROUS WHITE MOUSTACHE!!!
My eyes locked onto it. My entire being clenched.
THAT’S what’s next for me? Too old to do simple math, but with facial hair that’s the envy of teenage boys coast to coast?
You see, our third daughter is working this summer at a laser hair-removal salon. With my big birthday coming up, everyone has been kidding me about the possibility of getting a niiiiiice discount.
Eyes still riveted on that moustache, I listened as the cashier asked if I had a store card. No, I didn’t.
The old crone leaned over: “She can use mine!” She grinned, hairily.
Turns out, with her card, I saved $9.70! Not bad, for a dime’s investment.
I got to thinking: that’s how old age is. You just don’t know it while you’re getting there.
You put so much effort into rearing your children, you pucker your face. But you wind up with wonderful children. Good investment.
You try your best, for decades, to focus on the important people in your life. What do you get? Worn-out eyesight. But luckily, hindsight’s 20-20. Look back, and you’ll see: it was worth it.
You throw in a little kindness now and then, “just because,” not expecting anything, and you get a spectacular return, like 970 percent.
Getting old . . . is fun and easy and pays dividends!?!
Yep! Because you have Help. He’s with you, all the way. Talk about old . . . He’s the ULTIMATE Fogie!
Anyway, that $9.70 is a nice down-payment on my first hair-removal.
Maybe old age won’t be so hairy after all!
-----------------------------
PRAYER REQUEST: Lord, there’s someone very special whose 50th birthday is right after mine. Steve has had an incredibly difficult year. But he’s still a very, very precious friend and someone I hope will be making me laugh well into the denture years. Lord Jesus, pull him close and grant my fervent birthday wish for us both to finish up strong, with happy, healthy, Godly “second halves.” (Psalm 71:17,18)
Saturday, June 04, 2005
MOVES FOR A GREAT FIRST DATE
Someone who shall remain nameless, in case she ever wants to try this again, had a special first date last night. She concocted a fun scheme based on an old cartoon we all used to enjoy. In the cartoon, a character talks about dating, and says, “When they go to a restaurant, he orders (in a deep, manly voice) a BIG PIECE OF BEEF . . . she she gets (in falsetto) . . . a sallllllllllad!”
So this nameless teenage girl and her date were going to a restaurant last night, and this was her plan: he would expect her to order something light, feminine and delicate. She planned to smile demurely as the waiter approached the table, and then when it was her turn to give her order, she was going to drop her voice two octaves, and rasp:
“I’LL HAVE TWO TRIPLE CHEESEBURGERS, AN ORDER OF FRIES WITH MELTED CHEESE, AND A BEER!”
Wish I could’ve been a little bird to see the look on her 17-year-old date’s face.
------------------------------
Prayer request: Father, bless this new relationship with Your tender protection and encouragement, and use this beautiful, one-of-a-kind young lady to draw this nice young man closer to You through her bubbling humor and grace. (1 John 4:7,8)
Someone who shall remain nameless, in case she ever wants to try this again, had a special first date last night. She concocted a fun scheme based on an old cartoon we all used to enjoy. In the cartoon, a character talks about dating, and says, “When they go to a restaurant, he orders (in a deep, manly voice) a BIG PIECE OF BEEF . . . she she gets (in falsetto) . . . a sallllllllllad!”
So this nameless teenage girl and her date were going to a restaurant last night, and this was her plan: he would expect her to order something light, feminine and delicate. She planned to smile demurely as the waiter approached the table, and then when it was her turn to give her order, she was going to drop her voice two octaves, and rasp:
“I’LL HAVE TWO TRIPLE CHEESEBURGERS, AN ORDER OF FRIES WITH MELTED CHEESE, AND A BEER!”
Wish I could’ve been a little bird to see the look on her 17-year-old date’s face.
------------------------------
Prayer request: Father, bless this new relationship with Your tender protection and encouragement, and use this beautiful, one-of-a-kind young lady to draw this nice young man closer to You through her bubbling humor and grace. (1 John 4:7,8)
Friday, June 03, 2005
DID THEY TRY ARTI-FISH-IAL RESPIRATION?
We have been enjoying the antics of the new family fish. She swims left. She swims right. She swims up. She swims down. That’s about it, antics-wise. But it’ll do.
Her name has undergone a mutation, since the 5-year-old fish wrangler didn’t think “Sally” was tough enough. Now she is “Speedy.”
One can only hope that she is speedier than the other betta that Maddy has known. His name was “Cool Dude,” and he was the preschool pet for many months. But one Monday morning, the kids all came in to their room, and Cool Dude was . . . GONE!!!
Of course I had visions of a protracted deathbed, or death-aquarium scene, and heroic measures by the preschool staff involving fish CPR, somewhat complicated by litsy bitsy gills . . . but I was wrong.
Maddy informed me: “He ran away.”
-----------------------------
Prayer request: Lord, help me to think of You and put You first all day today, and to concentrate really hard on how much I love You and how much You’ve done for me. Create in me an “attitude of gratitude” and help me to love others more fully and more like You. (1 Peter 1:22)
We have been enjoying the antics of the new family fish. She swims left. She swims right. She swims up. She swims down. That’s about it, antics-wise. But it’ll do.
Her name has undergone a mutation, since the 5-year-old fish wrangler didn’t think “Sally” was tough enough. Now she is “Speedy.”
One can only hope that she is speedier than the other betta that Maddy has known. His name was “Cool Dude,” and he was the preschool pet for many months. But one Monday morning, the kids all came in to their room, and Cool Dude was . . . GONE!!!
Of course I had visions of a protracted deathbed, or death-aquarium scene, and heroic measures by the preschool staff involving fish CPR, somewhat complicated by litsy bitsy gills . . . but I was wrong.
Maddy informed me: “He ran away.”
-----------------------------
Prayer request: Lord, help me to think of You and put You first all day today, and to concentrate really hard on how much I love You and how much You’ve done for me. Create in me an “attitude of gratitude” and help me to love others more fully and more like You. (1 Peter 1:22)
Thursday, June 02, 2005
SALLY III
We have a new pet. It is a Japanese fighting fish. It must come from the Amazon, because this fighting fish is literally an amazon – it’s a “she,” according to the resident expert, Maddy, age 5.
Her name: Sally. The reason: threefold. First, the older girls had a fish named Sally for three years in the first wave of childhood that swept through this family a dozen years ago. Although they are now nearly 22, 20 and 17, the girls remember Sally fondly and were proud of her relative longevity, which beat the pants off their friends’ two- and three-day wonders.
Secondly, we got Sally from a girl named . . . Sally. We innocently went to a graduation party tonight, and the honoree’s older sister, a law student, had purchased a number of fish in small aquariums as table decorations. Offbeat and charming, to be sure – but to the horror of the parents, including ourselves, Sally thrust the fish onto unsuspecting guests, or should I say their children, as they left, as “party favors.”
Hmmm. I’ve got another name for Sally . . . and it ain’t Miss America.
Just kidding. Got a new fishie. Gotta love her.
------------------------
Prayer request: We open our hearts to a girl named Michaela, whose mother committed suicide some years back. Michaela struggles with depression and a lot of those questions we just can’t answer. Why, God, why? We can only rest in the knowledge that someday, Michaela will understand. ‘Til then, Lord, we ask for consolation, rest and peace for Michaela’s young heart. (Psalm 27:4)
We have a new pet. It is a Japanese fighting fish. It must come from the Amazon, because this fighting fish is literally an amazon – it’s a “she,” according to the resident expert, Maddy, age 5.
Her name: Sally. The reason: threefold. First, the older girls had a fish named Sally for three years in the first wave of childhood that swept through this family a dozen years ago. Although they are now nearly 22, 20 and 17, the girls remember Sally fondly and were proud of her relative longevity, which beat the pants off their friends’ two- and three-day wonders.
Secondly, we got Sally from a girl named . . . Sally. We innocently went to a graduation party tonight, and the honoree’s older sister, a law student, had purchased a number of fish in small aquariums as table decorations. Offbeat and charming, to be sure – but to the horror of the parents, including ourselves, Sally thrust the fish onto unsuspecting guests, or should I say their children, as they left, as “party favors.”
Hmmm. I’ve got another name for Sally . . . and it ain’t Miss America.
Just kidding. Got a new fishie. Gotta love her.
------------------------
Prayer request: We open our hearts to a girl named Michaela, whose mother committed suicide some years back. Michaela struggles with depression and a lot of those questions we just can’t answer. Why, God, why? We can only rest in the knowledge that someday, Michaela will understand. ‘Til then, Lord, we ask for consolation, rest and peace for Michaela’s young heart. (Psalm 27:4)
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
THE WEATHER REPORT
Maddy, 5, and I were snuggling on the porch during a torrential rainstorm. We gasped as the gusts of wind swept across the driveway onto our faces through the screen. We counted the seconds between lightning flashes and the boom-booms of thunder.
Suddenly, Maddy revealed to me some profound weather insight:
“When it rains, the clouds are going potty,” she informed me.
“They wipe with a rainbow . . .”
“. . . and they flush with a great, big tornado!”
Those cleaning chores in the W.C. won’t seem so boring and routine, now that I’ve got the big picture.
----------------------------------------
Prayer request: A reader named Karen is moving with her family to California today. Bless them and keep them safe as they travel, Lord. Give them many opportunities during this move and settling-in time to display their love for You and who they are because of You. (Matthew 5:16)
Maddy, 5, and I were snuggling on the porch during a torrential rainstorm. We gasped as the gusts of wind swept across the driveway onto our faces through the screen. We counted the seconds between lightning flashes and the boom-booms of thunder.
Suddenly, Maddy revealed to me some profound weather insight:
“When it rains, the clouds are going potty,” she informed me.
“They wipe with a rainbow . . .”
“. . . and they flush with a great, big tornado!”
Those cleaning chores in the W.C. won’t seem so boring and routine, now that I’ve got the big picture.
----------------------------------------
Prayer request: A reader named Karen is moving with her family to California today. Bless them and keep them safe as they travel, Lord. Give them many opportunities during this move and settling-in time to display their love for You and who they are because of You. (Matthew 5:16)
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
WOOF DAH
Footnote to my story about fancy-pants tourists bringing their fancy-pants dog into a Thai restaurant at an upscale mountain resort in Colorado last weekend:
Did you hear about the new Korean cook book?
“101 Ways to Wok Your Dog”
---------------------------------
Prayer request: A very special young man named Jeff has launched a construction company with two brothers-in-law and is full of hope and excitement at this new venture. Lord, You know his heart and how much he wants to succeed. Observe his diligence and effort, and reward and bless his business greatly. Above all, draw him closer to You, letting him know that as long as he does things Your way, all of the increase comes from You and You’re glad to make it happen. (Proverbs 22:29)
Footnote to my story about fancy-pants tourists bringing their fancy-pants dog into a Thai restaurant at an upscale mountain resort in Colorado last weekend:
Did you hear about the new Korean cook book?
“101 Ways to Wok Your Dog”
---------------------------------
Prayer request: A very special young man named Jeff has launched a construction company with two brothers-in-law and is full of hope and excitement at this new venture. Lord, You know his heart and how much he wants to succeed. Observe his diligence and effort, and reward and bless his business greatly. Above all, draw him closer to You, letting him know that as long as he does things Your way, all of the increase comes from You and You’re glad to make it happen. (Proverbs 22:29)
Sunday, May 29, 2005
FROM THE ROCKIES TO REALITY
And whosoever shall exalt himself shall be abased;
And he that shall humble himself shall be exalted.
— Matthew 23:12
We just got back from a weekend getaway to a posh resort in the heart of the Rocky Mountains. We were attending the “destination wedding” of the daughter of some dear friends, and getting some much-needed R&R.
The views were stunning: snow still capped many mountains, and lilacs and wildflowers combined with pine trees and sage to create intoxicating mountain aromas.
The hotel lodge sported a soaring log ceiling with a massive stone fireplace and leather seating. Our room had a marble bath, lovely woodwork, and a featherbed that required a pole-vaulter’s approach.
We fly-fished in 40-degree waters on a hideaway creek, stresses and strains vanishing into the chuckling stream.
I caught the first fish, a brown trout with red freckles. I kissed him on his enormous lips and released him. My husband caught two more. Our enormous waders were slimming and we felt as graceful as Brad Pitt in “A River Runs Through It.”
He played golf while I read, uninterrupted, on the hotel patio. I dozed in public, drooling and snoring, completely relaxed.
Another friend of the bride and I hosted a bridal luncheon. I hauled out my guitar to sing the old Kodak song, “Where are you going, my little one, little one?” Several people cried, and not just over my funky singing. We all reveled in the sweet emotions of this special time.
That night, we were amused when some arrogant tourists brought their dog into the restaurant – a Thai restaurant. We joked that the dog had to be awfully nervous.
We returned to the hotel and toasted s’mores over crackling logs under a sky that looked like God spilled an endless sack of sparkling sugar onto a ream of celestial black velvet.
Next evening’s wedding was spectacular, under a log trellis bedecked with white flowers, greenery and gold ribbon. The bride added comic relief with a stage-voice “Whew!” when she finally got the groom’s ring on his finger.
We ate a gourmet meal, drank far too much wine, and danced like crazy people into the night.
Next morning, we drove away regretfully, savoring what had been literally a pinnacle experience.
Well, we didn’t get far before I started feeling poorly. All that wine, and we’d skipped breakfast to get on the road.
We sailed past Vail and Breckenridge, rolling up and down the foothills. The change in altitude was really getting to me. I stared at my freebie hotel newspaper, trying not to think about my gurgling stomach.
Dang! I knew better. For someone who drinks very little, a five-glass evening is a five-alarm emergency for the old tum-tum.
Finally, desperately, I groped around on the floor of the second seat . . . and came up with my husband’s half-sack of Cheetos from the trip out.
Ewwww! Cheetos!!! Now I was REALLY sick.
I opened it up, doubly nauseated by the blast of Cheetos aroma, and then, sinking my face into it like a nag into a feedbag, I did what you do “the morning after,” dramatically and with feeling.
Too late, I realized there were people in the car in the next lane, and just as I came up for air, our eyes locked . . .
. . . and from the disgust on their faces, I knew I had come down from the mountaintop, back into the Valley of Reality.
I had Cheetos ring-around-the-mouth, and any illusion of aristocracy and sophistication was long gone.
But that’s OK. You know what they say: peak experiences are just for show. The only place for real life is down in the valley. Nothing much grows on a mountaintop, and you can’t stay up there for long.
So I did the only thing I could: I looked over at those people, smiled my friendliest post-protein spill smile, motioned to them with the heavy-laden Cheetos bag, and gave them a fully humble, middle-class thumbs up.
You should have seen their faces as they roared off.
Hey! The people at the top may have more luxury . . . but we flatlanders have more fun.
---------------------------
Prayer request: Gracious Father, thank You for drawing Jill out to Colorado to meet the love of her life and to create a warm and wonderful new life. Her joy and fulfillment are such a profound blessing to her dear parents and family. Bless Jill and Brian in their marriage, happily ever after. May the mountains and hills burst into song before them! (Isaiah 55:12)
And whosoever shall exalt himself shall be abased;
And he that shall humble himself shall be exalted.
— Matthew 23:12
We just got back from a weekend getaway to a posh resort in the heart of the Rocky Mountains. We were attending the “destination wedding” of the daughter of some dear friends, and getting some much-needed R&R.
The views were stunning: snow still capped many mountains, and lilacs and wildflowers combined with pine trees and sage to create intoxicating mountain aromas.
The hotel lodge sported a soaring log ceiling with a massive stone fireplace and leather seating. Our room had a marble bath, lovely woodwork, and a featherbed that required a pole-vaulter’s approach.
We fly-fished in 40-degree waters on a hideaway creek, stresses and strains vanishing into the chuckling stream.
I caught the first fish, a brown trout with red freckles. I kissed him on his enormous lips and released him. My husband caught two more. Our enormous waders were slimming and we felt as graceful as Brad Pitt in “A River Runs Through It.”
He played golf while I read, uninterrupted, on the hotel patio. I dozed in public, drooling and snoring, completely relaxed.
Another friend of the bride and I hosted a bridal luncheon. I hauled out my guitar to sing the old Kodak song, “Where are you going, my little one, little one?” Several people cried, and not just over my funky singing. We all reveled in the sweet emotions of this special time.
That night, we were amused when some arrogant tourists brought their dog into the restaurant – a Thai restaurant. We joked that the dog had to be awfully nervous.
We returned to the hotel and toasted s’mores over crackling logs under a sky that looked like God spilled an endless sack of sparkling sugar onto a ream of celestial black velvet.
Next evening’s wedding was spectacular, under a log trellis bedecked with white flowers, greenery and gold ribbon. The bride added comic relief with a stage-voice “Whew!” when she finally got the groom’s ring on his finger.
We ate a gourmet meal, drank far too much wine, and danced like crazy people into the night.
Next morning, we drove away regretfully, savoring what had been literally a pinnacle experience.
Well, we didn’t get far before I started feeling poorly. All that wine, and we’d skipped breakfast to get on the road.
We sailed past Vail and Breckenridge, rolling up and down the foothills. The change in altitude was really getting to me. I stared at my freebie hotel newspaper, trying not to think about my gurgling stomach.
Dang! I knew better. For someone who drinks very little, a five-glass evening is a five-alarm emergency for the old tum-tum.
Finally, desperately, I groped around on the floor of the second seat . . . and came up with my husband’s half-sack of Cheetos from the trip out.
Ewwww! Cheetos!!! Now I was REALLY sick.
I opened it up, doubly nauseated by the blast of Cheetos aroma, and then, sinking my face into it like a nag into a feedbag, I did what you do “the morning after,” dramatically and with feeling.
Too late, I realized there were people in the car in the next lane, and just as I came up for air, our eyes locked . . .
. . . and from the disgust on their faces, I knew I had come down from the mountaintop, back into the Valley of Reality.
I had Cheetos ring-around-the-mouth, and any illusion of aristocracy and sophistication was long gone.
But that’s OK. You know what they say: peak experiences are just for show. The only place for real life is down in the valley. Nothing much grows on a mountaintop, and you can’t stay up there for long.
So I did the only thing I could: I looked over at those people, smiled my friendliest post-protein spill smile, motioned to them with the heavy-laden Cheetos bag, and gave them a fully humble, middle-class thumbs up.
You should have seen their faces as they roared off.
Hey! The people at the top may have more luxury . . . but we flatlanders have more fun.
---------------------------
Prayer request: Gracious Father, thank You for drawing Jill out to Colorado to meet the love of her life and to create a warm and wonderful new life. Her joy and fulfillment are such a profound blessing to her dear parents and family. Bless Jill and Brian in their marriage, happily ever after. May the mountains and hills burst into song before them! (Isaiah 55:12)
Thursday, May 26, 2005
PAUPER BY DAY, PRINCESS BY NIGHT
OK, I admit it. I have a secret, self-centered indulgence that reveals my true nature as a spoiled egocentric:
I love Egyptian cotton bedsheets even though they cost an arm and a leg.
There. I’ve said it, and somehow, saying it makes the addiction seem less shameful and overwhelming. They should have A.A. for people like me: B.A. – Bedsheets Anonymous.
Well, the problem with such soft sheets is that they rip easily, and sure enough, ours were tattered. So I just bought a whole new set with an incredibly high thread count and pricetag.
I was standing in line with them, though, when suddenly, my pea brain perceived that the lady in line right in front of me had on THE SAME PANTS I did!!! The fabric is a riot of orange and pink floral. We got them on sale, cheap, at the same discount store a few months ago, for a fraction of what I was spending on my new bedsheets.
Wal-Mart shopper by day . . . pampered princess by night.
---------------------------------
Prayer request: Lord, I just heard about a bride whose wedding is this weekend, but her mother committed suicide last week. A brother killed himself some time ago, too. The tangle of emotions must be unbelievable. But we pray that Your love will shine through and give everyone a strong sense of peace and joy despite the circumstances. May they call upon You, and hear Your answer loud and clear. (Isaiah 58:9)
-----------------------------------
DailySusan will resume on Tuesday, May 31. Happy Memorial Day!
OK, I admit it. I have a secret, self-centered indulgence that reveals my true nature as a spoiled egocentric:
I love Egyptian cotton bedsheets even though they cost an arm and a leg.
There. I’ve said it, and somehow, saying it makes the addiction seem less shameful and overwhelming. They should have A.A. for people like me: B.A. – Bedsheets Anonymous.
Well, the problem with such soft sheets is that they rip easily, and sure enough, ours were tattered. So I just bought a whole new set with an incredibly high thread count and pricetag.
I was standing in line with them, though, when suddenly, my pea brain perceived that the lady in line right in front of me had on THE SAME PANTS I did!!! The fabric is a riot of orange and pink floral. We got them on sale, cheap, at the same discount store a few months ago, for a fraction of what I was spending on my new bedsheets.
Wal-Mart shopper by day . . . pampered princess by night.
---------------------------------
Prayer request: Lord, I just heard about a bride whose wedding is this weekend, but her mother committed suicide last week. A brother killed himself some time ago, too. The tangle of emotions must be unbelievable. But we pray that Your love will shine through and give everyone a strong sense of peace and joy despite the circumstances. May they call upon You, and hear Your answer loud and clear. (Isaiah 58:9)
-----------------------------------
DailySusan will resume on Tuesday, May 31. Happy Memorial Day!
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
ANOTHER DOOT-DOOT'ER
I had mentioned my new theme song, the jingle from “the dumdum ad” for Cingular, “Doot dooooooo, doot, doot, doot.” Comes now a story about a friend’s adult son that could be scripted as an ad in that series.
He’s a highly organized engineer, and he was supposed to meet a friend to go biking after work one day. He got to the trail and realized he’d forgotten to pack his bike shoes. He couldn’t ride in the steel-toed workboots of an engineer. So he had to cancel.
He was driving home in his car when, right before his driveway, he had to stop as a ball bounced into the street and a boy ran to fetch it. Distracted, he then turned into the drive, hit the garage door opener, and . . .
BAM!!!!!
The house withstood the hit, but the bike and rack did not.
Doot dooooooo, doot, doot, doot!
----------------------------
Prayer request: Father, we lift up to you a husband, father and grandfather named Richard, who is on life support with serious head injuries after a traffic accident. His wife Kathy is the friend of a friend. She often calls her husband her “gentle giant.” The prognosis is not good, but Lord, oh Lord, You can help him, and we ask for that merciful help now, in Jesus’ Name, the original Gentle Giant! (Isaiah 30:18)
I had mentioned my new theme song, the jingle from “the dumdum ad” for Cingular, “Doot dooooooo, doot, doot, doot.” Comes now a story about a friend’s adult son that could be scripted as an ad in that series.
He’s a highly organized engineer, and he was supposed to meet a friend to go biking after work one day. He got to the trail and realized he’d forgotten to pack his bike shoes. He couldn’t ride in the steel-toed workboots of an engineer. So he had to cancel.
He was driving home in his car when, right before his driveway, he had to stop as a ball bounced into the street and a boy ran to fetch it. Distracted, he then turned into the drive, hit the garage door opener, and . . .
BAM!!!!!
The house withstood the hit, but the bike and rack did not.
Doot dooooooo, doot, doot, doot!
----------------------------
Prayer request: Father, we lift up to you a husband, father and grandfather named Richard, who is on life support with serious head injuries after a traffic accident. His wife Kathy is the friend of a friend. She often calls her husband her “gentle giant.” The prognosis is not good, but Lord, oh Lord, You can help him, and we ask for that merciful help now, in Jesus’ Name, the original Gentle Giant! (Isaiah 30:18)
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
MY NEW THEME SONG
Over the weekend, one of the softball dads had me in stitches with his take on a popular TV ad by Cingular. You know, “the dumdum ad,” where they show a guy plunging to his doom on an errant snowmobile and other dumb things, and the high-pitched, ironically cheerful background music goes, “Doot dooooooo, doot, doot, doot.”
This guy is a firefighter, and I guess when they are riding around on the truck, if they see anybody do anything stupid, they sing that little song and laugh like crazy.
I fight fires all day long, too – many of them caused by none other than me. So I have adopted that little ditty as my new theme song. I’ll try to hum it all day. It might not keep me from doing dumb things, but at least I can be ironically cheerful about it.
------------------------------------
Prayer request: We pray for the family and friends of Sarah O’Mara, Nebraska Right to Life past president and board member, who died Friday. She is described as “the smiling little lady in the wheelchair who devoted her life to the pro-life cause.” Father, into Your hands we commend this lovely spirit. (Matthew 25:21)
Over the weekend, one of the softball dads had me in stitches with his take on a popular TV ad by Cingular. You know, “the dumdum ad,” where they show a guy plunging to his doom on an errant snowmobile and other dumb things, and the high-pitched, ironically cheerful background music goes, “Doot dooooooo, doot, doot, doot.”
This guy is a firefighter, and I guess when they are riding around on the truck, if they see anybody do anything stupid, they sing that little song and laugh like crazy.
I fight fires all day long, too – many of them caused by none other than me. So I have adopted that little ditty as my new theme song. I’ll try to hum it all day. It might not keep me from doing dumb things, but at least I can be ironically cheerful about it.
------------------------------------
Prayer request: We pray for the family and friends of Sarah O’Mara, Nebraska Right to Life past president and board member, who died Friday. She is described as “the smiling little lady in the wheelchair who devoted her life to the pro-life cause.” Father, into Your hands we commend this lovely spirit. (Matthew 25:21)
Monday, May 23, 2005
SWIMSUIT SEASON AGAIN. WAH!!!
Maddy made a comment that was ill-timed, considering that at that moment I was reluctantly reconciling myself to the fact that I have to buy a new swimsuit, since mine is pre-World War II. Like most everybody else, I dread the swimsuit shopping process and what I’m likely to see in the dressing room mirror.
She didn’t mean anything by it. But JUST as I was thinking about that, Maddy, who was chattering away about the day’s events, coined a new phrase: “humoungus bo-boungus.”
WAH!!!
-----------------------------
Praise report: In the whirl of graduation parties this past weekend, it struck me how many good and nice young people there are in the Class of 2005, who have befriended our daughter, one year younger, and encouraged her and mentored her in a natural kind of way. Thank You, Father, for providing such good role models in our daughter’s life, and thank You for providing such great parents for those older kids. Continue to build them up to lead lives that are pleasing to You. (Jude 20,21)
Maddy made a comment that was ill-timed, considering that at that moment I was reluctantly reconciling myself to the fact that I have to buy a new swimsuit, since mine is pre-World War II. Like most everybody else, I dread the swimsuit shopping process and what I’m likely to see in the dressing room mirror.
She didn’t mean anything by it. But JUST as I was thinking about that, Maddy, who was chattering away about the day’s events, coined a new phrase: “humoungus bo-boungus.”
WAH!!!
-----------------------------
Praise report: In the whirl of graduation parties this past weekend, it struck me how many good and nice young people there are in the Class of 2005, who have befriended our daughter, one year younger, and encouraged her and mentored her in a natural kind of way. Thank You, Father, for providing such good role models in our daughter’s life, and thank You for providing such great parents for those older kids. Continue to build them up to lead lives that are pleasing to You. (Jude 20,21)
Sunday, May 22, 2005
GINNY'S BRACELET
And when she hath found it,
she calleth her friends and her neighbours together, saying,
Rejoice with me;
For I have found the piece which I had lost.
— Luke 15:9
We were halfway across the country last weekend, under the blue skies of Chapel Hill, N.C., for our daughter’s college graduation. An old, old friend of both my mother and my mother-in-law lives in nearby Greensboro. She arranged a wonderful reunion luncheon.
She and my mother-in-law grew up together in Lincoln, and with my mom were members of Kappa Alpha Theta Sorority at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln over a half-century ago. Dad called them “Theta Potatas.”
And Dad loved Ginny. I had never met her, but it was love at first sight. Under snow-white hair were sparkling eyes, a radiant smile, and the confident build of a lifelong athlete. She’s an active grandmother who loves to refinish old furniture and volunteers to hold newborn babies at her local hospital. She loves ‘em all, old and new.
My daughters and I were outgunned verbally – what a rarity! -- so we sat back and reveled in the warmth and energy of the reunion of the three long-lost friends. When they looked at each other, they must have seen the girls they used to be. In my mind played the old camp song, “Make new friends, but kee-eep the old; one is silver and the other’s gold.”
Just then, Ginny brought something shiny out of her pocket.
It was a sterling silver I. D. bracelet. On one side was engraved, “Ginny Noble.” That was her maiden name. On the other, it read: “From The Gang. 2-10-45.”
It seems that earlier this month, a fellow was using a metal detector up at the Minnesota lake where the Noble family, my mother-in-law’s, and many other families from Lincoln spent the summers in the days before air conditioning.
There was snow on the ground up there, but the guy still found something in the sand. It was badly tarnished and had some writing on it that he could barely read. He slipped it into his pocket.
Later, two older women who were staying at the cottage next door came outside. It was a surprise, since it was still about a month early for the summer residents to arrive. He waved to them, and took out the bracelet.
“Who’s Ginny Noble?” he asked.
Who’s Ginny NOBLE?!? Their jaws dropped. They were old, old friends. They’d known her since she was a girl. They had hung out with her at that very cottage . . . 60 years ago.
So they called her, down in Greensboro. She was elated to hear about it. She vaguely remembered receiving the sterling silver bracelet as a birthday present from her friends, and later losing it when the clasp must have broken.
“Send it right down to me,” she asked, telling them of the upcoming reunion luncheon with my mom and mother-in-law. She had the clasp fixed and polished it all up, good as new.
For six decades, that bracelet lay in the sand, forgotten and meaningless, and would have stayed that way . . . except for the lucky break that the two ladies were there and could tell the guy who Ginny Noble is, so that the bracelet didn’t get tossed away.
And lose its chance to say so much.
You see, my mother-in-law was in that gang of girls who gave Ginny that bracelet on the occasion of her 13th birthday, six decades ago.
And my mother, like Ginny, is a widow, for whom reassurance that relationships are forever means everything in the world.
It was obvious that this happy accident wasn’t just for Ginny. This was a God thing. We all got tingles, and a little teary. We all were beaming.
So who’s Ginny Noble? I’ll tell you who she is:
Someone for whom the circle of life is coming complete, just like that bracelet encircling her wrist.
Someone for whom all that has been lost is being found.
Someone with silver hair rejoicing with pure gold -- old friends -- over faithfulness . . . the faithfulness of the best Friend of them all.
------------------------
Prayer request: Father, there’s someone very special who’s struggling with depression, bouts of suicidal ideation, and lots of “stuff.” He needs Your tender, loving care, delivered through the wisdom and kind words of a Godly counselor. Precious Redeemer, let him know that You are with him, and make him patient to wait for Your deliverance. In the meantime, we pray for a hedge of protection around him, and peace and courage for his loved ones through this trial. (2 Corinthians 1:3-4)
And when she hath found it,
she calleth her friends and her neighbours together, saying,
Rejoice with me;
For I have found the piece which I had lost.
— Luke 15:9
We were halfway across the country last weekend, under the blue skies of Chapel Hill, N.C., for our daughter’s college graduation. An old, old friend of both my mother and my mother-in-law lives in nearby Greensboro. She arranged a wonderful reunion luncheon.
She and my mother-in-law grew up together in Lincoln, and with my mom were members of Kappa Alpha Theta Sorority at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln over a half-century ago. Dad called them “Theta Potatas.”
And Dad loved Ginny. I had never met her, but it was love at first sight. Under snow-white hair were sparkling eyes, a radiant smile, and the confident build of a lifelong athlete. She’s an active grandmother who loves to refinish old furniture and volunteers to hold newborn babies at her local hospital. She loves ‘em all, old and new.
My daughters and I were outgunned verbally – what a rarity! -- so we sat back and reveled in the warmth and energy of the reunion of the three long-lost friends. When they looked at each other, they must have seen the girls they used to be. In my mind played the old camp song, “Make new friends, but kee-eep the old; one is silver and the other’s gold.”
Just then, Ginny brought something shiny out of her pocket.
It was a sterling silver I. D. bracelet. On one side was engraved, “Ginny Noble.” That was her maiden name. On the other, it read: “From The Gang. 2-10-45.”
It seems that earlier this month, a fellow was using a metal detector up at the Minnesota lake where the Noble family, my mother-in-law’s, and many other families from Lincoln spent the summers in the days before air conditioning.
There was snow on the ground up there, but the guy still found something in the sand. It was badly tarnished and had some writing on it that he could barely read. He slipped it into his pocket.
Later, two older women who were staying at the cottage next door came outside. It was a surprise, since it was still about a month early for the summer residents to arrive. He waved to them, and took out the bracelet.
“Who’s Ginny Noble?” he asked.
Who’s Ginny NOBLE?!? Their jaws dropped. They were old, old friends. They’d known her since she was a girl. They had hung out with her at that very cottage . . . 60 years ago.
So they called her, down in Greensboro. She was elated to hear about it. She vaguely remembered receiving the sterling silver bracelet as a birthday present from her friends, and later losing it when the clasp must have broken.
“Send it right down to me,” she asked, telling them of the upcoming reunion luncheon with my mom and mother-in-law. She had the clasp fixed and polished it all up, good as new.
For six decades, that bracelet lay in the sand, forgotten and meaningless, and would have stayed that way . . . except for the lucky break that the two ladies were there and could tell the guy who Ginny Noble is, so that the bracelet didn’t get tossed away.
And lose its chance to say so much.
You see, my mother-in-law was in that gang of girls who gave Ginny that bracelet on the occasion of her 13th birthday, six decades ago.
And my mother, like Ginny, is a widow, for whom reassurance that relationships are forever means everything in the world.
It was obvious that this happy accident wasn’t just for Ginny. This was a God thing. We all got tingles, and a little teary. We all were beaming.
So who’s Ginny Noble? I’ll tell you who she is:
Someone for whom the circle of life is coming complete, just like that bracelet encircling her wrist.
Someone for whom all that has been lost is being found.
Someone with silver hair rejoicing with pure gold -- old friends -- over faithfulness . . . the faithfulness of the best Friend of them all.
------------------------
Prayer request: Father, there’s someone very special who’s struggling with depression, bouts of suicidal ideation, and lots of “stuff.” He needs Your tender, loving care, delivered through the wisdom and kind words of a Godly counselor. Precious Redeemer, let him know that You are with him, and make him patient to wait for Your deliverance. In the meantime, we pray for a hedge of protection around him, and peace and courage for his loved ones through this trial. (2 Corinthians 1:3-4)
Saturday, May 21, 2005
DOING WHAT BEHIND THE BARN?
The North One-Fortieth, the garden my brother-in-law tends in a former horse paddock behind our barn, is up and at ‘em. There are tomatoes, green beans, potatoes, zucchini, cucumbers and much more on the grow. I’m slowly developing a cutting garden along the fence, too, in my four spare seconds per day.
It’s my job to provide the mulch, since he buys the plants. Last year, I couldn’t get much grass hay, and the straw I bought was full of weed seeds. It was more trouble than it was worth.
This year, I got 20 bales of good brome, but it’s hard to place around tomato plants. We’d prefer a thick layer of grass clippings. But nobody around here picks up their clippings any more; everybody mulches it right back onto the lawn. And I can’t rake much up in four seconds per day.
So I found myself calling a mower guy whose ad runs in the local weekly, and asking him to deliver a load of clippings to our driveway instead of hauling them to the dump. I paid, in other words, for grass clippings. They’ll be great in a thick layer around the tomato bushes. But I’m sure my agricultural ancestors are spinning in their graves over my lack of frugality.
At least I had an opportunity to leave this message for Ernie: “I got some really great grass you can do out behind the barn this weekend.”
I think I’ll leave him a rock concert T-shirt and a leather bracelet with spikes to wear while he’s doing it.
---------------------------
Prayer request: A new friend has opened up to me and revealed a deep sadness: her husband and she are rarely, if ever, intimate. She feels confused and rejected. From his family history, I can tell that he needs a lot of pampering and nurturing, but she works full-time plus and has little energy to give. Father, fill her with Your supernatural strength and warmth, and empower her to reassure him of her love, and Yours. (Psalm 27:10)
The North One-Fortieth, the garden my brother-in-law tends in a former horse paddock behind our barn, is up and at ‘em. There are tomatoes, green beans, potatoes, zucchini, cucumbers and much more on the grow. I’m slowly developing a cutting garden along the fence, too, in my four spare seconds per day.
It’s my job to provide the mulch, since he buys the plants. Last year, I couldn’t get much grass hay, and the straw I bought was full of weed seeds. It was more trouble than it was worth.
This year, I got 20 bales of good brome, but it’s hard to place around tomato plants. We’d prefer a thick layer of grass clippings. But nobody around here picks up their clippings any more; everybody mulches it right back onto the lawn. And I can’t rake much up in four seconds per day.
So I found myself calling a mower guy whose ad runs in the local weekly, and asking him to deliver a load of clippings to our driveway instead of hauling them to the dump. I paid, in other words, for grass clippings. They’ll be great in a thick layer around the tomato bushes. But I’m sure my agricultural ancestors are spinning in their graves over my lack of frugality.
At least I had an opportunity to leave this message for Ernie: “I got some really great grass you can do out behind the barn this weekend.”
I think I’ll leave him a rock concert T-shirt and a leather bracelet with spikes to wear while he’s doing it.
---------------------------
Prayer request: A new friend has opened up to me and revealed a deep sadness: her husband and she are rarely, if ever, intimate. She feels confused and rejected. From his family history, I can tell that he needs a lot of pampering and nurturing, but she works full-time plus and has little energy to give. Father, fill her with Your supernatural strength and warmth, and empower her to reassure him of her love, and Yours. (Psalm 27:10)
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