The Husband The Wife and The Wardrobe

My parents are doing some major sorting at their house and getting rid of extra furniture they don't use anymore. They had a wardrobe in their basement, and mom thought I might want it. She knows my excitement about any storage related item... so I immediately said yes! It could go in my work room and hold craft supplies or teaching materials. I might use it in the basement for out of season clothing. Joe or Ben might need it for apartment life at college someday. Over Labor Day weekend, I got busy clearing a space for the cabinet so Perry and I could go get it.

My helpful husband went to the car dealership where he works to borrow a small pickup. When we got to my parents' house, we realized that moving that huge wardrobe up the stairs would be no small job. More cumbersome than heavy, we somehow heaved it up one step at a time and carried it to the pickup. I was sweaty and covered in dirt, but feeling very smug to see that large cabinet filling the back end of the truck and knowing I'd had the muscle to manage my end. I collapsed into my seat, Perry carefully shifted gears, and we slowly rolled homeward.

Stopping at a busy intersection in town, Perry chatted on his cell phone while I considered the storage possibilities for this handy piece of furniture. We were barely across the street when we heard a sickening crash. Looking behind us, we saw the cabinet laying in pieces after being launched out of the back of the truck.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry as we did a u-turn to pick up the pieces and toss them back in the truck. Passing motorists maneuvered carefully around our vehicle and the pile of wardrobe rubble, probably laughing hysterically and thanking their lucky stars they weren't in our shoes.

We returned home, chucked the pieces of splintered wood at the curb, and I called my parents to explain what had happened. Thankfully, they had a sense of humor about the whole ordeal. It might be awhile before they offer us anything else of value from their house though.

A Different Dream for My Child

What I would have given for a book like this nearly 13 years ago, when I was sitting in the NICU with a sick baby.

My heart was nearly paralyzed with fear for so many things. I was afraid that Sam might not live, I was afraid that he was suffering and I couldn't do anything to make it better, I was afraid of the endless number of needle sticks and invasive tests his tiny body was forced to endure. I was afraid of what was yet to come, but I didn't know how to process these fears and worries. I wanted to hand them over to God and trust Him with my baby's fragile condition but I didn't quite know how.

What I needed at that time was an experienced friend to come alongside me and gently offer to share her story with me. It would have been so helpful to hear about someone else's journey with a child who had a serious medical condition. I craved practical advice from someone who had been where I was and lived to tell about it. Praying for me and praying with me when I couldn't find the words, this friend could share insights from the bible in language I could understand. She could explain how God could help me find the strength to survive my baby's health crisis and be the parent I wanted to be. I also needed encouragement and advice on the minor logistical challenges I faced while caring for my child.

That support I wished for is now available in the form of an amazing little book of meditations called A Different Dream for My Child. You can preview the book here. Jolene Philo shares her own story as well as the stories of many other parents who have faced the scary reality of a seriously ill child. The medical situations are all so different, and yet the emotions each family faced were universal and startlingly similar to mine. It was so heartwarming to read these meditations and feel encouraged and supported.

In this book, my friend Jolene offers heartwarming encouragement on the major issues parents may face, but she also offers helpful advice on the little logistics many parents must deal with during a child's extended illness. Like all good friends do, she offers bits of well-timed humor from her own situation in order for us to see glimmers of hope in ours.

If you know someone who is going through a health crisis and wish there was something you could do to help or support the family, start by getting this book into their hands. For anyone who is drowning in the emotional challenges of parenting a child with a chronic illness, this book will feel like a lifeline.

Looking on the Bright Side

The day was going smoothly, so I should have guessed something like this would happen. I was only home from school for a few minutes when it was time to pick Sam up from football practice and hurry him to piano lessons. The dogs looked at me with pleading eyes, begging me not to put them back in their cages, so I let them ride along.

While driving to piano lessons, Pearl stood in my lap, and I realized with horror that she had a huge, shiny, purple lump on her rear end. Being a dog without much hair and no tail, it was alarming looking and unmistakable that something was horribly wrong. Some sort of infection had obviously taken over her backside and somehow I had neglected to notice. Thoughts ping-ponged around in my brain....how long had THAT been there?...looks awfully painful, poor dog... I must be a bad pet owner to have a pet suffering from a hideous growth like that and not even realize it....it's 5:30, and the vet clinic is surely closed....what am I gonna do if that thing BLOWS??

With shaking hands, I dialed the clinic's number and nearly cried with relief when they answered. They were open late tonight (proof to any non-believer that there is a God) and I could come right over.

By the grimaces on the office staff's face, I knew it was a bad abscess. The doctor got her haz-mat suit and several gauze pads for the "procedure". Yes, it involved pain and blood, but Pearl was a good little patient. I was brave too and didn't keel over, I'm proud to report.

$83.00 later, I left the vet's office with antibiotics, prednisone, and a towel wrapped around Pearl's still-oozing backside. Somehow I made it back to pick up Sam from piano lessons before he even had a chance to know anything had happened.

Tonight I am counting my blessings. Thankful the vet was open and available to help us, thankful that awful thing didn't rupture in my bed while she was sleeping with me, and thankful for feminine products that double as emergency doggie-diapers. No matter what kind of day a person has had...no matter how bad a person's life gets, one can look on the bright side if they don't have a ruptured abscess on their rear-end.

Confessions of a Bag Lady

I think I've become a bit of a bag lady this summer. My efforts to be organized and keep things simple led me to brilliantly decide I needed a different bag for every activity in my life. I visualized myself being amazingly organized and prepared for any event on my busy calendar, grabbing a bag and punctually dashing out of the house at a moment's notice. It hasn't worked out exactly as expected, but I think the system has promise.

First, I have a baseball bag, a cute little tote with a sports print that I keep all the handy essentials for traveling to ball games. From bug repellant to m&ms, sun screen and an extra sweatshirt, that bag stayed packed and ready for life at the ballpark.

Next, I need my church bag. It carries my bible, hard candy, water bottle, pens, and other necessary items. Right now it probably also has about 3 months worth of old church bulletins in it.

I also need my school bag. The problem is, school work this summer varies between grad school classes and teaching summer school to little ones. Repacking this tote bag each time I left the house seemed a bit too straightforward and logical so I needed to add another bag to my collection. My dad picked up on the fact that I was becoming a bag lady and he has an abundance of freebie tote bags from continuing ed conferences, so he offered me a couple of blue DMACC bags. I couldn't decide which one I liked best, so it made perfect sense to me to use both of them.

Life as a bag lady has it's ups and downs, though. I have run out of door handles to hang all the bags I need. Remembering which dark blue bag has my flash drive in the bottom causes me some frantic last minute searches. The bag of m&ms I discretely reach for during a long Viterbo class sometimes eludes me because it's actually in the baseball bag. There have also been some close calls when I'm headed to my educational research class and grab the bag that contains picture books and phonics games. It appears that my system has a few glitches, but with a little refining, I can be really organized and prepared. Last night I was browsing online at some cool Kavu tote bags. I think having one of those might be just exactly what I need....

The Final Week

When you think of my son Ben, sports automatically come to mind. He has had a ball in his hand since he was a toddler, and team sports have played a huge role in his life since he was old enough to sign up. His idea of fun has always been competing on a field somewhere. Over the years, we have spent a LOT of time on bleachers watching him play.

This week marks the last chapter in his high school career. His senior baseball season has been a great one and his team was thrilled to qualify for the state tournament. This is exciting for our whole town because it's been 23 years since Boone has gone to state. Playing at Principal Park is a life long goal for Ben and he's never lost sight of that. I have to pinch myself when I realize this dream has actually become a reality for this group of boys. God has blessed them with talent and He has provided this amazing opportunity for them. What a way to end a season and high school career.

I think the town of Boone must have closed down for a few hours yesterday! I was so touched as I looked around the stadium at the sea of red and black and saw how many people showed up to cheer for the boys. I know it meant a lot to the team to have so much support. The team played well, won big and are now setting their sights on the next game. We are having a blast being a part of this.

Perry and I will definitely miss watching Ben play baseball next year. The families of the other players have become close friends. We've spent hours together on the bleachers and have made great memories traveling together to tournaments over the years.

I know the boys will miss playing ball together. They have been a team since they were nine years old. In a few days, most of them will put down their bats and gloves for good. A few weeks from now they will leave home for college and begin an exciting new chapter in life.

I know they will look back on this final season with no regrets. And that's a wonderful thing.

A Different Kind of Summer

The little purple flowers in this hanging basket are so unforgiving. They don't realize it's been a different kind of summer. I've gone back to school to get my masters degree, so my usual summer vacation activities have gone by the wayside. In my rush to get out the door by 7AM for class, I sometimes (often) forgot to water my flowers. I would make a mental note to turn on the hose when I had some time, but apparently part of the flowers didn't appreciate my IOU of water.

My family, on the other hand, is very understanding and supportive of my new schedule. Sam is a great sport when I am in Des Moines for class all day. He's content to stay home alone, and Ben is very self sufficient-even washing his baseball uniform when needed. My parents are more than happy to have Sam and the dogs at their house, to make sure they are eating what they are supposed to, along with getting some exercise and fresh air. Perry has been so encouraging as I take on this new challenge in my life. Even though writing reflection papers is a foreign concept to him, he understands the time involved with my classwork and picks up the slack around the house.

There hasn't been time for scrapbooking, home decorating projects or planting a vegetable garden this summer. My priority is to complete my 10 credits of classwork, go to Ben's baseball games, spend time with Sam, and maybe even put away the stuff from Ben's graduation party. I haven't trimmed the dead flowers from the hanging basket yet, but it's on a list somewhere. It's just a different kind of summer.

The Flamingos

Sam's youth group at church has been doing a fundraiser to raise money for a trip this summer. You may have heard of something like this... a flock of plastic flamingos are secretly placed in a person's yard with a note. For a donation to the youth group, the flamingos will be removed. For a slightly bigger donation, they can choose the next yard for the flamingos to go.

My son Sam was enthusiastic about this project, so he volunteered to be in charge of transporting the huge group of flamingos from yard to yard. Problem is, the flockmaster can't drive and needed a car to haul the 16 large plastic birds. Perry and I became involved in this project by default, so we have been on too many late-night-stealth-bird-placing-missions.

One night Perry was busy, so Sam and I packed the trunk and I dressed in black for the newest job. We had the address of the next targeted victim, a yard on a quiet street in town. I crept slowly down the street, straining to see the address numbers. Pausing in front of one house, I felt sure I'd found the correct place. It was curious to see the garage door open and outside lights on. Before I could park I was horrified to see the owner of this house, an older gentleman who used to be our town's mayor, a few yards away walking his dog and probably wondering what in the world we were up to.

With heart pounding, I drove off. Since it was a dead end street, of course I had to turn around and pass him again. That way he got an even better look at the shady characters in the suspicious looking blue Focus. (He was probably making a mental note of my license plate numbers and getting ready to call his friends at the police department.)

Sam and I laughed nervously as we waited a few more minutes before going back, hoping the lights would be off and we could get the job done. I longed for my other life back at home, where I lived innocently as an upstanding citizen who doesn't sneak around in the dark.

About a half hour later, we returned to the scene of the crime. I trolled nearly silently down the street with headlights off (I saw that in a spy movie once) and I parked in a neighbor's driveway. Trying to be quiet in the dark magnifies even the softest noises. I cringed at the click of the car door and the clank of the flamingos as we dodged behind bushes to set them up in the targeted yard. I kept my eyes on the house, straining to see a face in the window. I expected the lights to come on at any moment, the door would open and an accusing voice would boom across the yard as I died of embarrassment on the spot.

With relief, we poked the last flamingo in the grass, ran back to the car and escaped the scene without being noticed. Speeding back home, I felt more than ready to hand over the flock to another pre-teen's family in our youth group. They can live on the dark side now. I'll even give them my black face mask. I'm retiring from this shady lifestyle.