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Showing posts from 2017

Surgery update: I'm back! (Sort of)

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Drugs are not always necessary. Belief in recovery always is. ~ Norman Cousins




So, today was my first day back at work. To say I was nervous would be an understatement.

Thankfully, it wasn't a terribly hard day for me.

It was a hard day in the world; blog on that coming soon.

For those who missed my post on my surgery: on Sept. 20, I had surgery to repair the umbilical hernia that had developed in my abdomen.

I first noticed something was wrong in late July or early August. I tried to put it off a bit, thinking maybe it was some kind of tummy ache. I knew it probably wasn't — I'm one of those terrible Google self-diagnosers. My husband and mom pestered me to get it checked out, and I felt really terrible, so I finally consented.

That in itself was problematic, since I haven't had a "primary physician" in probably 10 years. There's one or two I've gone to locally, but usually I avoid the doc as much as possible. Honestly, largely because I hate trying to fig…

Surgery

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I wrote this in multiple parts. Please forgive the discontinuity. 
I learned a long time ago that minor surgery is when they do the operation on someone else, not you. ~Bill Walton

So today I have surgery. In two hours, I'm to get up, scrub down with wipes after having showered only a few hours ago, put on another set of clean clothes, and go see a man about a hernia.
I'm not going to lie, I'm more than a little nervous. I've never had surgery, outsider of some really minor dental surgery in college. 
(Full confession, I dozed off while writing)
Now I'm up. Cleaned again. Just waiting. Waiting is the hardest part, people say.
All I can think is, did I scrub enough? Jim says you have to scrub really well to cut down on risk of infection.
For those of who were caught off-guard by today's surgery, so was I. When I started feeling poorly, I figured out pretty quick it was a hernia. So I made an appointment with a doc, she agreed and sent me on to a surgeon. There was abou…

A beautiful life

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Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give but cannot. All of that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go. ~ Jamie Anderson

A beautiful life was extinguished today.

And while I know she’s in heaven, lending her voice to the angels and singing the praises of God, it’s still a little hard for us on Earth to stomach.

Bluntly, it sucks. It really sucks.

I don’t remember the first time I met Nannette. I was very young. I don’t remember her not being there, honestly. As my friend Krista said, she’s just “been a constant” figure in our lives. Like a member of our family.

Some people don’t really understand the relationship when I say that Nannette did my hair. She was my family’s beautician. But she was more than that.

For most of my life, she has been the woman who cut my hair. She’s walked alongside me through puberty, high school, college, …

A woman and her shoes

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“Good shoes take you good places.” -Unknown
Shoes. There’s an oft-used joke that women like their shoes.
Some folks seem boggled by why, not realizing that shoes are the one things you’re not as likely to grow out of, compared to that favorite dress or top.
We’ve been in our house for a year and a half now. We still have some boxes to go through — time is not my friend, it seems. The other day, I was cleaning out one of the rooms that had defaulted to storage when I found one pair of heels and one pair of wedges.
They were shoes I once loved and hadn’t worn in several years. In fact, my dear husband had never seen me wear these shoes and we’ve been together more than five years. He’s never seen me wear any heels — I wore nice sandals to our wedding and then I went barefoot. I started to shove the shoes in the giveaway bag. You know the mantra: if you haven’t worn it in six months, get rid of it.
But I stopped. I couldn’t bring myself to part with these silly shoes I never wear.
It’s not th…

A life sold out

“For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” ~Philippians 1:21
As a christian, I’ve long heard stories of those willing to die for Christ. It’s always been something I’ve wondered — if a gun were held to my head, would I be willing to die for Him?

I like to think, yes, I would die for Christ. Just as any christian believes.

Sometimes, though, that seems to be the part we focus on the most: dying for Christ. Of course, what happens to us after we die is pretty crucial — it’s a big part of why to follow Christ. As christians, we want to ultimately end up in Heaven with Him, instead of Hell separated from Him for eternity. It’s not the where we go that matters, but who we will be there with — God.

But lately, I’ve been wondering if I’m missing the point in some way by asking this question. Maybe the question I don’t need to ask myself is whether or not I’m willing to die for Christ. Maybe the question should be, am I willing to live for Him?

It’s been on my mind a lot, with hearing t…

The quest for discernment

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Discernment: 1. the quality of being able to grasp and comprehend what is obscure: skill in discerning; 2. an act of perceiving or discerning something. Merriam-Webster.com
My work leads me to meet a variety of people. That’s the part of it that I love, the meeting new people and sharing their stories. It’s sometimes the hardest part, being able to capture their personality, their presence and write about it in a way that gives others a glimpse into who they are.
One of the people I’ve met is an educator — a headmaster at a local private school. I’ve spoken with her many times in my four, almost five years. Conversations with her always inspire me in my faith.
She’s retiring soon and I sat down with her to do the standard outgoing interview that I always do. This was about a month ago, and she spoke about something that’s stuck with me ever since — discernment. For her, it was discernment in her job.
I suspect she applies God’s discernment in all aspects of her life, but we were talking abou…

Where do we find hope for the hopeless?

"Tomorrow is the most important thing in life. Comes into us at midnight very clean. It's perfect when it arrives and it puts itself in our hands. It hopes we've learned something from yesterday." ~John Wayne
The world is full of heartache. I see it everyday in my job, but it’s never more apparent than the days I cover court.
It’s full of families, waiting anxiously to hear what fate lies their loved ones. Mothers, praying for their children; fathers, knees bouncing in worried anticipation; wives and husbands, with concern in their eyes.
For those on the outside, facing the judge, most are humble, hoping they don’t lose their limited freedom, while most of those on the inside hope that this will be the day they gain theirs.
Some carry an air of attitude. I think that’s a front, so they don’t show their nerves, their fear, or their real selves. Some, it’s confidence because they know they managed to stay clean.
For some, their fear is because they know they haven’t.
The jud…

A passion for creating: Made with Kare

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"Creative minds are rarely tidy."
It's not clear who said this first. There's several people who are believed to have used the phrase, or something like it.
But I like it. It describes me pretty well.
It's not a big secret how much I love to create things. My husband says he can't take me to Hobby Lobby because I take too long. It's not because I want to buy everything — I'm fairly tight with my funds — it's because I look at stuff on the shelves and want to examine them to see if "I can make that." 
That's a phrase I say a lot. That's why I hate throwing out things.
That's why I have a ton of yarn — although I AM going to donate some of it, if I ever get around to bagging it up — and a ton of paint. And paper. And fabric. And wood. And tulle. And tobacco sticks. And cookie sheets. And the list goes on and on. These are all things I've collected as I came across ideas, or when I made things.
Lately, I've been trying t…

Where's that hair from?

Those aren't grey hairs, they're strands of glitter growing from my hair. -Unknown
I used to think it was funny when my mom had a “granny hair.” 
You know the ones, the hairs that grow uncontrollably out of your chin?
Well, mine have started. Only they’re coming out of my forehead, not my chin.
My husband does say I’m a unicorn. That’s his sweetness showing, telling me I’m his unique unicorn. Now I have proof that he’s right: I have hairs growing where my horn would be. (I'm not the first one to reach this awesome conclusion, clearly, read here, but be warned of language.)
My mom’s as great moral support about it as I likely was for her — “reach up there and pull that baby,” was her response.
No thanks, mom. Never mind I made the discovery on my way to a work-related meeting, during which I hoped that no one noticed the white/blond horn on my head. 
My grey hairs are showing up, too. Not that it’s a major crisis. My brother was about my age when he started getting gray hair — it …

What's behind your door?

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"All of us every single year, we're a different person. I don't think we're the same person all our lives." ~Steven Spielberg
This morning, Facebook reminded me of where we were a year ago — coming to the end of what felt like a very long journey.



Sometimes it seems as if we are always on a long journey. For my husband, the journey began in 2013, before we married. I suspect it really began before that, perhaps when he left the hospital, or even when he started down the path into emergency service. By the time we met, he had devoted his life to helping others through the fire service.

The past several years have been tough for my love. He wants to help people. He has a heart for helping people. I think that may be what drew me to him initially — he's a helper. I find myself surrounded by helpers. They're my people, the ones who want to see the world better for humans and creatures and willing to do what they can to get it there. They're some of the bes…