No, Mr. President

What a powerful message by >John Piper.


No, Mr. President is his response to President Obama's statement regarding the anniversary of Roe vs. Wade. It is short.....I promise you have the time.

HT to Justin.

That Was a Wild Ride!

Last weekend was, to say the least, a wild ride. We started with a big storm, winds a gazillion mph (I heard 80 was possible, but didn't see that here....Friends did, though). Unlike our friends, our worst damage was a hunk of siding from the construction project across the street that now resides in our front yard. I was at Walmart when it hit. Suffice it to say the water in the lot was ankle deep and I was completely drenched before I got the two carts unloaded and into the car. On to birthday prep!

With my sweet friend, D's help, we cleaned, decorated and made a cake. When everyone arrived, we went to the pottery place to paint our ceramic projects, then met the family for pizza. We came home and the girls played, then we had cake and ice cream floats...yum! I gained every bit of six pounds this weekend. It was sooo good, you see! The girls stayed up until about 5:30, but I only lasted until 1:30.

Up at seven, preparing for the day and the first pickups...we had eggs and chocolate chip pancakes. As they left, I started preparing for prom. Trav ran errands in town for me, and I gathered items needed for a dinner at a friends' house. Once he was dressed and out the door, I finished pulling weeds and changed to help at the dinner. My friend, J, served her son and seven of his friends dinner before prom. It was so lovely and she went all out. When I came home, I brought supper for my crew and got them to bed. I sat down to watch tv and fell asleep way sooner than anticipated. Hubby woke me up to go to bed, but once I got changed and washed up, I was completely awake. Trav was still out, so I grabbed my knitting to watch House and wait for him. He came in about 1 with friends in tow, so I stayed up until 3, when I finally realized they would, no matter what, outlast me.

The best thing about Mothers Day is that it was low-key. We went to church, did some quick errands then shopped and shopped for flowers. The big kids had a rehearsal for a concert. After getting home, the girls and I put out 15 pots of flowers plus some. Hubby and Nathan rode the motorcycle to visit the grandmas and take them their gifts. Trav had baseball practice, then we grilled and had the WHOLE family at home at one time for supper. Now that was a happy Mother's day. All my blessings, all together.

Today we hit the ground running again, in prep for Pop Concert and graduation. It is a beautiful day, so I'm hoping I can manage to find a way to do graduation announcements outside. If you get one with some dirt smudges, you'll know what happened.

A Perfect Ten

Tonight I go to bed reflecting about this same night ten years ago. (The scene fades away to the scene ten years ago....) Nathan was all of 18 months old and still hadn't slept through the night. I was very pregnant and trying to carry Nathan about while caring for Holly and Travis, who were six and eight, respectively. It was a Friday night and I had mowed, spending a lot of the time with Nathan on my lap. It was his favorite way to take a nap...on my lap on a mower or tractor. Please don't go into the safety issues. I was a pregnant woman desperate for this child to sleep. I took it how I could get it. If memory serves, I was on that mower for about three hours that day, riding in fields, up and down the road, just passing time so Nathan could sleep. I recall the Schwan's man coming and ordering a few things, while the kids played in the yard. The next thing I remember well was going to bed about 11:30 or 12, then waking up about 1:30 with Nathan crying. I tried to soothe him, walking, rocking, and laying on the sofa with him. I hadn't been up long when I felt a strong contraction.

The contractions weren't unusual, I had them with every pregnancy, and this one was no exception. As I wrestled Nathan, I noticed the contractions increasing in intensity. Finally, a bit after 2, Nathan dozed back off, and by then the contractions were coming with alarming frequency, especially given the baby wasn't due for a few weeks. The remedy that had worked the best had always been to take a shower. The warm water had always calmed me, body and spirit, enabling me to stop the contractions and get some much-needed sleep. After a few minutes in the shower, I realized they weren't going to stop. I had to get to the hospital.

My last two deliveries had gone rather quickly. Dialation from 4 cm to 10 cm had taken 15 minutes or less. Living 45 minutes from the hospital shed a new urgency on getting to the hospital. I dried off, threw on some clothes and grabbed a duffel bag. I hadn't packed for the hospital, thinking I had several weeks to come up with something. As I grabbed clothes and stuffed them into the bag, my husband, bleary eyed, asked what I was doing. When I told him I was going to the hospital, he woke up with a start. I explained the house was a mess, the other kids needed him here, and he should allow me to drive myself to the hospital. I had, after all, done it with Nathan (under somewhat different circumstances) and could do it again. Smart man that he is, he vetoed that plan in a hurry and called my dad. By that time, I was having trouble standing, the contractions were coming so fast and hard. Recognizing my typical signs of going through transition, he hurried me to the car and told me my dad was on the way, the kids were asleep and would be fine for the few minutes it would take my dad to arrive. We had to go. This baby is coming fast.

As soon as we were in motion, he called for an ambulance to meet us. We received instruction as to where to go for the rendezvous, where they hustled me into the white van and took off with my husband following. The ambulance EMT called the hospital and gave them updates while repeating to me, "Do that breathing stuff! I don't want to deliver this baby tonight! Do that breathing stuff!" By the time we reached the hospital, I could have delivered the baby many times over, but held off due to the insistence of the ambulance dude. I was checked by a nurse who promptly rolled me into the hospital to the maternity ward while barking instructions to people around and asking me questions faster than I could answer. Miss Annie was born about four minutes later at 4:03 am, with a cord around her neck and bruises everywhere. It had been a stressful delivery for her and it showed. They let me hold her, but I noticed that where my others had immediately turned a pretty pink color, her skin remained a purplish-blue. I knew something wasn't right. I looked at the nurse and said, "She is sick, isn't she?" The nurse, nodding, confirmed my suspicions and said they really needed to take her then. Little did I know it would be several days before I could hold that baby again.

Concerned about my baby, I was taken to my room, but not able to relax and rest much. Doctors came in and out, giving me updates as to her condition. My husband was gone, helping his folks put a roof on their house. It was a long day alone. Later in the evening, my husband brought the kids over and they were disappointed they couldn't see their new baby. They understood they needed to pray for her because she was really, really sick. Awhile after they left, at about 11:30, the doctor who had been by Annie's side all day came to my room. He explained that she wasn't doing well, and for her to have a chance to survive, they needed to air evac her to St. Louis, MO. They offered for a priest to come in, as she may not make it through the trip. I declined the offer, determined that losing this child wasn't an option, even though I knew it wasn't remotely in my control. I phoned my husband who headed over to the hospital to join me in what could have been the last few minutes we would spend with our child.

I was allowed to touch her one time before she left. My choice was to touch her silky black hair, because I had never had a baby with hair before. We took pictures, then as they loaded her to go, I went back to my room to pack and prepare for the journey. She left the hospital just before five, and we were out the door only minutes after. We drove while she flew to St. Louis, and I knew it would be the most exhausted I would ever be.

By Tuesday, they were giving her about a 50-50 chance. Her lungs were not developed, she had a hole in her lung, and this was just the most serious of her long list of conditions. They were going to try a procedure that they felt would make or break the situation. Either it would work and she would heal, or it wouldn't, and, well, she probably wouldn't make it. It was a terrifying 24 hours. Thankfully, the procedure was a success and she began to mend.

We spent eight days in this hospital in St. Louis in addition to the one day we spent in the hospital near our home. On Sunday, May 16, I brought home the newest little member of our family. Her first week at home included five baseball games. She has been on the go ever since.

My Annie. Ten years old. I just don't know how it happened. How very, very blessed I am.....

Post-Shred Review

Quick observations about the 30 Day Shred include:

1. It is totally doable. I'm tired, I've got that "I just had a good workout" feeling but I'm not discouraged or frustrated.

2. It is short and thorough. The methods used combine exercises for a complete but short workout. Short and thorough. Both are good words.

3. The Things joined in and loved it. Thing 1 just commented, "I think I'm in a lot better mood now." Maybe I am, too.

4. I love Anita. Her "modifications" are part of what made it doable.

5. I don't want to do 1 1/2 shreds in one day ever again.

6. Those women are good motivators. I couldn't pay for abs and legs like that, but they sure make me want to try harder.

7. I'm kind of looking forward to tomorrow. Ack! Did I just say that????

That's all I can say for now. Piano looms on the horizon and I have to wash off all this sweat. Just after I eat a piece of bacon.

Just a Shreddin'

Last week, I read where Sophie and Melanie were joining Vicki in a new get fit scheme quest. They are doing Jillian Michaels 30 Day Shred. I read phrases saying that children commented on abs appearing where previously there were none. There were testimonies of making clothes purchases because the old ones are too big. Arms with flags were being upgraded to arms with muscle and definition. Either someone died and their testimony is coming straight from heaven, or it works. Or they lie.

On Amazon, the dvd is ranked, get this, "#1 in Movies & TV ". Apparently, there are a lot of desperate individuals out there like me. You know what they say about a sucker being born every minute. But #1? It isn't a measure of customer success in getting fit, but no matter how I cut it that #1 rating influenced me. That, and the idea of being a workout stud.

I was sold.

Said dvd arrived in glorious style in yesterday's mail. Brown cardboard being glorious and all. So, this morning is it. Day #1 in my 30 day quest to removing 25 years from this tired ol' bod. Ten minutes into it, I glanced at the clock and had to quit. I'm guessing it was subconscious, but I had started the dvd knowing in 18 minutes I had to be on a conference call from work, hoping I could squish it all in the allotted time. I'm so happy I couldn't. Allowing time (which, of course, wasn't enough) to access the email with the numbers for the conference call, I just had to stop.

Now I'm faced with a decision. Start again, doing 1 1/2 Shreds today? (Heaven forbid it! Please?) Or, start mid-way, not getting the full effect of the 20 minutes of hell health? Or, just call it a day, and forever be 1/2 day off on my shred count.

I'm thinking if I type long enough, the decision will be made because of piano looming on the horizon. Or, I think I'll just go back, start again, and know I will be better for it.

Has "exercise video" ever been listed as a cause of death? I think not! I'll just imagine that funny guy on "Waterboy" is here cheering me on saying, "You can do it!"

Sermon? You Mean There is a Sermon on Sunday?

It seems I have a difficult time hearing the sermon each week. I have to miss a lot of services because I work with several children's programs. Some folks never hear a sermon and I really hate that for them. We have a great teaching pastor and it is a shame they have to catch him online, for I fear they won't. Tomorrow I get to hold babies while the Mommies and Daddies hear the teaching. The whole baby-holding thing makes me very happy.

Back to the sermons. Some weeks, I have no reason not to hear the sermon. Except things just...happen. Take last week for example. You know the two glasses of water, one cup of coffee and two glasses of oj I had before church? Who would have thought that would have all processed and I would have found myself about to float away by the time praise and worship began? So, when the children were dismissed to children's church, I slipped out to go to the restroom. Note I slipped out at a time to cause the least amount of disruption. That's how I am. Really. You'll need to know that in a moment.

So, I get done in the restroom and it is on my mind that Annie's finger that is injured is swollen and causing her significant pain. I know that buddy-taping it will help, so it occurs to me to go find a first aid kit and acquire a strip of medical tape to use on it. Said first aid kit has no tape. There are, however, a lot of antiseptic wipes and an emergency blanket for those times we'll need one in church (??). Making a mental note of where the emergency blanket is because I know it is knowledge I will need at some time, I head on to the nursery thinking I can acquire some sort of tape there. Finding masking tape, I rip off a long piece and head back to the service. I slip in the back, quietly hugging my dear friend, the bass player, who is also slipping in, and I head to our seats in the, ahem, front of the church. I get about half-way to the front and it occurs to me that Annie isn't there. That would be because I had sent her to Kids Worship to help lead praise and worship there. Making a quick right turn, I head on out the side door knowing people are shaking their head at that crazy lady with the long piece of tape flowing behind, and hoping they don't think I'm being all disruptive on purpose. I also hope the pastor doesn't hunt me down after the service.

I head to Kids Worship, where the songs are in full swing. I can't access Annie's hand, because to do so would require disrupting the song service and, of course, I can't do that. So, I sing along, digging all the cool motions until the songs are finished. Annie and I head to the hallway where I tape her fingers with the masking tape, which proves to be a pretty lame excuse for buddy tape, but is a bit helpful nonetheless.

Task completed, I briskly walk toward the sanctuary to try this whole sermon thing again when I am asked to please assist a visitor in taking their child to the nursery. Happy to help, we proceed to our two year old class, helping her sign in the child and explaining the security process, etc. We then rejoin the church service. Being as stealthy as I know how, I slip into the pew, only climbing over five or six people to get to my seat. Holly comments that it sure took a long time to go to the restroom....by the time I complete a note to her with a thorough explanation of where I have been, there is enough sermon left to leave me completely at a loss as to the point of it all. It occurs to me then, that there is some significance in that. What it is, I'm not sure.

So, I'm thinking that in a couple of weeks I'll be able to try it again. I just hope, since it will be Senior Day, I can keep from bawling the whole time. Now THAT would be distracting.

It's Settled. I'm Sure This Time. I Think.

I'm really done this time. I stuck with the plan with one variation. I am adding Tapestry of Grace 1 to the mix. It has so much to add, and of course, I really want to have all of the best. I really believe my best includes TOG. So, all that is left is organizing it, filling in literature/history books that may be missing, little things like that. I think I can relax about it until I get the oldest over the graduation hump. I really hope so.

Speaking of which, I started addressing announcements and I went through about 1/10of the pictures for all the slide shows for church, banquets, etc. Church needs 6 to 10 pictures. This child is:

a. The oldest. We all know there are waaaaay more pictures of the oldest. (Spoken like a true baby of the family.)

b. 18 and a HALF! That is not even one picture a year!

Well, it can't be done. One cannot capture the "heart" of some one's life with ten pictures. Nope. So, when I turn in, say 16 pictures (give or take), I triple-dog dare 'em to eliminate any. How could they, after all?

I'm Ready to Play

It is a typical May in this part of the country. Either we are freezing, checking windchill, and shivering in shorts, or we are enjoying a spectacular sunny day in which the grass grows at least three inches per hour. The last couple of days have definitely fallen into the former category.

Trav has pitched two games this week, doing very well at both. The first, unfortunately, doesn't count, because the Heavens opened and a downpour to rival Noah's ensued. Thankfully, this one was much shorter than Noah's. Not so happily, we lose our 8-1 lead because we hadn't completed enough innings for it to count.

Last night he pitched a complete game (despite sprinkles and winds straight from the Arctic) and we won. It was a really good game. His batting is on, his pitching is one, his teammates are really, really on, and the stars have all aligned.

So, despite the plummeting temperatures, a good baseball game is proof that spring is here and summer is coming very soon. It always brings to mind an old favorite song. For all the baseball fans out there:

Ready To Play (Put Me In Coach) by John Foggerty

Well, beat the drum and hold the phone - the sun came out today!
We're born again, there's new grass on the field.
A-roundin' third, and headed for home, it's a brown-eyed handsome man; (ahem. In case you didn't know, that is Travis)
Anyone can understand the way I feel.

CHORUS:
Oh, put me in, Coach - I'm ready to play today;
Put me in, Coach - I'm ready to play today;
Look at me, I can be Centerfield.

Well, I spent some time in the Mudville Nine, watchin' it from the bench;
You know I took some lumps when the Mighty Casey struck out.
So Say Hey Willie, tell Ty Cobb and Joe DiMaggio;
Don't say "it ain't so", you know the time is now.

CHORUS:
Oh, put me in, Coach - I'm ready to play today;
Put me in, Coach - I'm ready to play today;
Look at me, I can be Centerfield.

Yeah! I got it, I got it!

Got a beat-up glove, a homemade bat, and brand-new pair of shoes;
You know I think it's time to give this game a ride.
Just to hit the ball and touch 'em all - a moment in the sun;
(pop) It's gone and you can tell that one goodbye!

CHORUS:
Oh, put me in, Coach - I'm ready to play today;
Put me in, Coach - I'm ready to play today;
Look at me, I can be Centerfield. (x2)

Yeah!