The Peril of the Sweet tooth

And so here we are at yet another holiday season.  We sleep too much, and shop too much and eat too much.  Not only stuff thats healthy and good for you, like turkey and dressing and cranberry salad; but things like fudge and cookies, and pie. Lots and lots of pie.

Sweets have a way of providing some sort of comfort to the soul.  The warm apple pie with the scoop of french vanilla ice cream, just has a simple magic about it.  Candles are made to smell like it, and so are air fresheners!  There is just something about that smell.  There have been times, that even upon the thought of fresh apple pie with crumble topping, I can begin to salivate. 

This particular Thanksgiving was no exception to the rule.  I baked the apple pie the day before Thanksgiving, and its just a good thing I made two.  The whole house was filled with the deliciousness of fresh apple pie smell.  When you walked up to the house, it began to work its magic, sucking you in to a taste test before the big event.   

As I was eating a piece of the pie I had a new experience. . . not a pleasant one.  I felt a little zing in my top right molar.  Uh Oh.  Not happy.  Not loving the dentist.  I have always had a terrible fear of dentists, and like most, avoid them at all cost.  I began to wonder if I pretended that the zing didn't happen - would it go away?  My knees got kinda weak, and I felt the blood rush to my head as fear gripped at my heart.  I know I have a tiny cavity - that if not treated - is a possible problem.

Later on, as I was so stinkin tired - too tired to fall asleep, I began to think about my tooth and how I dread the dentist.  Even tho I dread the dentist as much as having acid poured in my eyeballs, I know its a necessity at some point, no matter how much I try to avoid it.  This provokes a new thought, one that is worthy of note.

I liken my tooth problem to humanness.  I know before I accepted Christ, I knew my life was not a life that was filled with joy and peace and hope, but I feared surrendering my will. I realized that my tooth and my faith were very different but very similar.  

My tooth was only a little zing for now, but left untreated would become a dull ache, and then when least expected would take over my being, and I would end up at the very place I was fearing, and if I didn't succomb sooner than later, the consequence could end up being the loss of the tooth.  Either way I would end up in the chair with the dentist looking down at me, beginning his work.  He would first clean the area.  Then he would take the drill and chip away at the decay until there was only healthy tooth left.  Once he had all the decay removed, he then would fill the empty hole with good healthy material and make the tooth whole once again.  I would be uncomfortable, but pain would be gone.  My tooth would be whole, and I would be able to resume life once again.

Coming to Christ is so much the same.  We avoid it for whatever reason - fear - guilt - pride - whatever, but the bottom line is scripture tells us that one day every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus is Lord!  We go thru life thinking we can do it on our own, and when something goes wrong we find ourselves seeking God temporarily, making promises we know we won't keep and really don't much intend to.  But we know we can't fix it on our own so we pray God if you will just do this, or just do that, then I will do whatever it takes!   Then we go back to the same things, getting the same results, and wonder why. 

When we finally surrender to the idea that we need Christ, He is just like the dentist.  We kneel before Him, He looks over us, and begins His work.  Upon our request, He cleans us - washing us white as snow.  He removes the decay, until there is only a healthy soul.  Then He begins to fill the empty places with His spirit and makes us whole.  The old is gone, the new has come.  He lives and dwells within us, and we can then live life free from sin, and free to choose!!!  The very thing we try to avoid, is the very thing that gives us life and life abundant!

What have I learned?

Often suffering is a choice.  I may not see it at the time, but in my humanness I can often choose to ignore life's little zings until they begin to own me.  I suffer because I made a conscious decision not to make changes, or deal with something in its infantile stages when change or consequence would have been minimal.

I've learned that God is able to meet me where I am.  I don't have to wait until I have to cry out Lord Lord.  He knows my needs and is able and willing to meet me where I am!

I've learned that I still love apple pie.  I love the familiarity of it, I love the smell of it, I love the comfort feeling it brings when each and every sense is affected by it.  I've learned that I want my Savior to have that same affect on me - all the time.  

Mostly I've learned that God is bigger than my fear . . . but only if I let Him be. 

Rats and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails . . .Well Mice and Bats for sure . . .

I HATE critters.  Spiders, bees, wasps, and even roaches - those things that make some people's skin crawl don't bother me.  Critters?  I hate them.  I know that is a strong term and they all made it on the arc, but I hate them.  Mice, rats, bats, lizards, and snakes.  Yuck.

Today I noticed some shredded paper in the garage.  I took a look at it and knew what it meant no matter how I tried to deny it.  I had to get into a storage container, and noticed some little droppings on top of it.  The paper I was able to reason out, but droppings. . . nope . . . .thats what they are, no denying it.

I treaded lightly thru the rest of my digging, and hurried myself back into the house.  We haven't seen nor had a mouse since we left Iowa.  I can honestly say - I haven't missed them nor have I missed that spasm in my stomach when I see evidences of those little rascals anywhere in the vicinity.

Growing up I don't remember ever seeing critters share our living quarters.  When we moved to the country with our boys I was introduced  to a plethora of critters.  Despite my incredible dislike for them, they had no problem inhabiting our living space and making themselves known.

 Over the course of our 14 years on the farm, we dealt with mice and dreaded bats.  The first year we moved there we killed 27 bats in our home!!  They were horrible.  One night sound asleep I felt something brush my arm and it woke me from a sound sleep.  I could hear its wings flapping thru the dark night.  I pulled the covers over my head and tapped Jim on the shoulder telling him there was bat that brushed my arm.  He flew out of bed and went into the hallway and turned on the light.  As he did the bat came flying out at him and he ducked and fell down the steps to the kitchen.  Sorry - I laughed.  He was fine and escaped uninjured  (well maybe his pride), then he came back up to show that ole bat (not me) who was boss.  And he did.  And he won.

One afternoon I was home sick from work. I was sitting in the recliner in the living room cross-stitching.  It was almost winter, and the mice were looking for warm places to live.  We had placed decon out in preparation.  This particular afternoon I thought if I can see the mouse across the room being stupid, I'm ok and safe. So, I continued with my cross stitch and out of the corner of my eye a while later, I see something moving.  That stinkin mouse was climbing up the side of my chair - I lost it.  I was covered up with a blanket with a lap full of thread and scissors and booklets.  I tried to fly out of that recliner with the footfeet up, and did an ass end over applecart move getting all twisted and turned in the blanket.  Cross stitch stuff went flying everywhere.  I went up to bed where I was safe and mice can't get me . . . .

The worst, most horrible experience tho turned my body into jello.  I couldn't move.  I felt like I was Gumby standing in the same spot with my body willing but not able to move.

My nephew spent a great deal of time with us, and one afternoon Jim took all four boys fishing, or some manly activity.  They came home with nothing less than a bull snake.  We always had a no snake policy - period.  The kids were all excited, and Jim told me that he wanted them to be able to keep the snake.  I reminded him of the policy and he begged and pleaded with me.  He said that he would get the aquarium set up and there would be a lid on it, so no need to fear.  I relented and said ok, but I better never EVER see a snake anywhere in my house.  EVER.

The next morning I got up, had my morning coffee, the boys were playing outside all ready so early in the morning.  It was grocery day and I decided I would get my list and my coupons ready.  I had a special drawer that I kept all my coupon things in, and after the list was all put together I went to put the coupon clippings away, and as I bent down to the bottom drawer, my eyes caught sight of something moving on the countertop. NO WAY.  The boys must have checked on the snake first thing in the morning, and didn't put the lid on tight.  Now the thing was loose, and climbing on my counters.  I couldn't move.  I was paralyzed.  I wanted to just pass right out!!!  I did what any other red blooded american Mom would do once I gained my composure.  I ran outside, shut myself in the car with my list, and made the boys go in that house and not come out til snake was in hand!!  Finally.  After a very long time, out of the house came four boys and a snake.  Needless to say - the aquarium was never needed.

What have I learned?

First off - I've learned that mice and rats and bats are NOT people too.  DeCon is your friend.

Secondly, I've learned that I don't miss the aforementioned critters.  At all.

Thirdly and most importantly I've learned that even those things that we find desgusting and can even use the word hate with in the same sentence, can evoke memories.  Great memories - memories that weren't so great at the time, but memories that today looking back make me smile.

When I go out to the garage and start digging through boxes that have been so conveniently ignored, I will be keenly aware of the little being that has shredded paper, and left tales to tell it behind both in the mess and the drippings.  Memories of the days on the farm will flood my brain, and as I fearfully dig, I will have visions of four sweet little faces with great big grins, and sparkling excited eyes forefront.  

I am blessed.

November 21st . . . . A Special Day

It was August 1999.  A gentleman we knew that had lost his wife needed someone to take care of his young son for a  few weeks.  We agreed, and this little blonde haired - blue eyed boy we barely knew, came to stay at our house.

He was a good boy, almost to a fault. He had been through a lot in the previous year, losing his mom and health problems with his dad.  He was polite, well behaved, and had a smile that would melt your heart.  Since we didn't know him well, we didn't really know how to reach out to him - and really for a few weeks should we?  It was summertime, he had no real responsibilities so he would get together with his friends and play, or he would watch tv, or play basketball with our youngest son.  

Two weeks went by and we hadn't heard from his dad.  A month.  Now two months.  School is now underway and rules need to be established, and guidelines for what a school week should look like.  It dawns on me that he is no longer just visiting for a few weeks - he is now living with us.  The dynamics of this situation needed to change drastically or this little boy could get lost in the sea of children left to their own devises un-parented.

Jim and I sat down and discussed what we felt needed to be done for him, and how we wanted to proceed.  We sat him down and shared with him our expectations, and he agreed to follow them.  Dad would call, and would come and get him for a while, but his health condition didn't allow him to care for the boy.  He was now ours to raise.  Oh, the responsibility is heavy when the child is not your own.

We had this young man for almost 3 years, when he then went to live with his sister and her husband.  She was only four years older than he, and experienced the same grief and understood; something we couldn't do no matter how hard we tried.  He thrived.  He had built a shell around himself prior to coming to live with us, and we had begun to penetrate it but we could only go so far.  When he lived with his sister, that shell seemed to crack a little more with each experience, and each success, and each new day.  

The young man was athletic, and brilliant, AND cute.  He was able to meld into any group and feel comfortable.  He was well liked, and his peers desired to be around him.  He was a good boy - he had strong moral fiber and a keen sense of right and wrong.  One of the greatest attributes of this young man was the fact that he would tell the truth regardless of the cost.  If he said something, you knew you could take it to the bank - no matter what. Integrity.  The girls loved him cuz he was cute.  The guys loved him because he was athletic and had such a great dry humor.  Teachers loved him because he was brilliant.  Coaches loved him because he was physically talented.  Adults loved him because he was someone they could trust their kids with.  They knew that his values and morals, and his overall character was a good influence on their child.

School was no difficulty for him.  By his mid high school years, they put him in a community college high school, and he graduated top of his class and had completed almost enough college credits to have his associates degree at the same time.  He was recognized at senior awards night with a citizenship award, and because he made the decision to join the service he was recognized with an enormous scholarship from his particular branch and a round of applause.

He went on to boot camp and then to the field of his choice.  He was recognized with honors and special awards and opportunities.  He spent two tours in Afghanistan protecting our freedoms, and is now safe back on American soil.  He is in school now, preparing to make his mark on this world as a civilian.  He is a man now.  A grown man.

A man who has walked thru the fires of life.  He has suffered immense grief, lived in places that he had to choose to make home, and lived through those painful years of adolescence without compromising his character.  Today he is gentle, and kind, and loving, and strong.

This day 24 years ago, he was born.  He had been fearfully and wonderfully made!  This day, I take note and reflect on his life with gratitude.  We were given an opportunity to not just know him, but to be able to call him ours - not by blood - but by choice and a very difficult set of circumstances.

What have I learned?

Where do I start . . . . I've learned that opportunities come and go.  Sometimes we look at them as a burden, and maybe we need to look a little deeper.  Sometimes the things we may consider burdens are ways that God is trying to stretch us to teach us about trusting in Him, or simply something we need to learn about ourselves. 

I've learned that there is no greater gift than to be given the opportunity to invest in a young persons life.  

I've learned thru the life of a young man who's circumstances gave him every reason to throw his arms up and become a victim, he made a choice to rise above it!  Many years ago we were told that in life you have to make a choice - you can be a victim or a victor - a winner or a whiner - you have to choose . . . . you can't be both.  He made a choice.  As a little tiny 10 year old boy - he made a choice.  I've had to make a lot of choices in my day, none of them compare to his.  His example, I guarantee he doesn't even know he's set, has shown me what that looks like . . . . and I'm humbled.

Jeremiah 29:

11 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.  12 Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you.  13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.  14 I will be found by you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back from captivity.

Happy Birthday to one of the finest young men we know.  We love you!!

Yummie Yummie Yummie . . . . .

Today as I was convalescing on the couch, I began to think about desserts.  Crazy I know.  But, with Thanksgiving next week and Christmas coming, its just that time of year.  I've been rummaging through cookbooks, and while laying around daydreaming, have come up with all sorts of new ideas. More than that ideas of what to make, memories are brought to the forefront of days gone by.

Big Gram was a tremendous cook.  People raved about her food, and hunters would hire her to make them soups to take on a hunt with them.  She was incredible.  Her cooking wasn't anything fancy nor gourmet, but simple tasty down home goodness.  Desserts weren't her specialty and she did "ok" with them.  But the memories I have of her and her desserts are hilarious!!

One of my very first memories of a dessert incident with her was when she tried to serve me "chocolate pudding".  She had such an ornery streak in her and it was always followed by a twinkle in her eye, and a little giggle, that on some days I can still hear as if she was sitting next to me.  

Being German, she liked to make Swatsaur.  It was a desgusting German dish made of cow blood and organ meat.  Grampa would cut up the meat to perfection and she would put it all together.  From my little memory of it, it was vinegar, blood, and meat.  ICK.  It marinated for days and when it was done it was a dark brown.  All of my dad's siblings loved it, but the next generation was just not a fan.  She thought she'd be real funny, and serve it to me in a little dessert bowl and tell me it was chocolate pudding.  I don't remember how old I was but for sure, under 8.  I took a bite of that stuff, and she watched me with her eagle twinkling eye.  The ole taste buds said OH NO - NOT IN HERE YOU DON'T!!!!!  That stuff was horrid!!  She laughed and laughed and giggled and giggled, and then told me to drink my milk before it got cold!!!!!  Even as a little girl being tricked, I loved her laugh, and waited with eager anticipation for the next trick she would play.  

Later on, as she aged and the grocery store modernized cooking, she served us a banana cream pie.  Grampa always cut and served the pie, and that particular night he was struggling to get the knife thru the crust to serve.  Gram had purchased a ready made graham cracker crust, and somehow failed to take out the plastic lining that covered the crust.  Grampa sawed thru it and served the first piece.  It wasn't until someone tried to take a bite that it was discovered.  OH did she giggle!!!!!

While desserts weren't her specialty, she never let that stop her from putting her best foot forward usually with success, but always up for a good giggle at her mistakes.  She had big 50 lb containers of flour and sugar, and made bread like a mad woman.  Her food was always an extension of herself.  To be able to serve someone food, and nourish them, was the highlight of her day.  Watching her stand at the stove, kneed bread or serve up a plate, was like watching a painter take a brush to a canvas.    Memories of that have been burned in my brain, and seered on my heart.  

I hold in my possession several of her aprons.  When she passed, my dad asked me if there was anything of hers that I would like to have.  The only thing I asked for was a few of her aprons.  To touch them, look at them and hold them close to my heart, takes me back to that kitchen where I sat so many days watching her create her masterpiece that she would serve those she loved.  The aprons I have were not laundered before she died.  They still have the kleenex in the pockets, and the safety pins that served as the buttons.  There are huge grease spatters, and evidences of a meal or two on them.  There are spots where I can tell she wiped her hands, and they smell.  Oh, they smell like her.  Still to this day, when I open the bag that holds them safe, and I take them out and put them up against my face, I smell her.  The tears run, and the heart aches, but I smile.  I loved her, and I get to say that I was one of the fortunates in this world that had the blessing of experiencing unconditional love.  Not only did I love her - she loved me.  She loved me when I was late.  She loved me when I was early.  She loved me when I didn't come around, and she loved me when I planted myself there and kinda forgot to leave.  She loved me when I said stupid stuff and she loved me when I spoke with intelligence.  She loved me when I was loveable, but she also loved me when I was unlovable too.  It never changed.  I always knew she loved me no matter what.

While I don't wear aprons it is my hope that my grands, in their adulthood, remember me that way.  I want to love them so much that their shortcomings and my expectations of them pale in comparison.  I want them to remember me by my laughter, and simple things like tricks or songs or other little moments we share that may seem so insignificant to me (or them) at the moment.

This week I'm making apple pie.  I have some frozen store bought shells with a plastic lining.  You can bet yourself that anytime I see a pie shell, or make one for that matter, she comes to mind.  So if in the process of pie preparation my ADD brain gets the best of me, I may be found in my room holding a little white bag filled with old stained aprons, taking a trip down memory lane.  I'm sure there will be a tear stained cheek, but accompanied by a smile,and a most grateful heart.

You Go Home and Get Your Panties . . . . .

Doesn't that title just make you wrinkle your forehead as if to say . . . what the heck??!!!  I love that shock factor, but believe it or not, there is a tender story that goes along side of this title.

I had the good pleasure to spend a great deal of time learning from and loving on my "Big Gramma".  She was my father's mother and lived near us.  My mother's mom was my "Tiny Gramma", and I was able to spend much time with her as a very little girl until I was about 3 when she moved to CA due to health reasons.  She passed when I was 11, and so my experiences with her were much less frequent, but no less impressionable.  I can't wait to write some of my memories about Tiny Gram.  But today, today we are gonna remember Big Gram . . . .

When I was about 8 my mom severed her tendons in her ankles, and was laid up for weeks (oh mom, I feel your pain now!).  My grandparents came to our house every day to take care of us kids.  Grampa took us to school, and did any of the running needed.  Gram did the cleaning and cooking and laundry for us.  It was a particular memory that stands out above all others, and I'm assuming thats because it was a short window into our little lives that was just different.  Mom and dad did all those things every single day and we considered it just life.  They did a good job, and this litle window we were given didn't downplay what our parents did on a daily basis, but gave us like a little vacation right in our own home and it was delightful!!!

Each day Gram would make us dinner and then she would get us ready for bed, and then . . . . and THEN - she and Grampa would stand in the hallway between my siblings bedroom and mine, and they would sing and dance us to sleep.  Gram was a big lady and she wore housedresses with aprons, bobbie socks and tennies, and . . . pettie pants.  Many young people don't have a clue what pettie pants are - so here's a good description.  They were underwear that were like a girly foo foo boxer.  They came down the leg at different length and had ruffles around the leg.  They were nylon and came in a plethora of color.  Gram liked the longer ones, and so as they danced she would lift her dress so the ruffles of the pettie pants showed, and they would sing together this:  "You go home and get your panties, I'll go home and get my scanties, and away we'll go.  Off we're gonna shuffle, shuffle off to Buffalo!"  Oh how we would laugh, and when I close my eyes I can hear them singing and dancing, and I can hear Gram's little giggle that I loved so much.  When they were done, they would tuck us in and kiss us goodnight.  I remember going to sleep every night with a smile on my face!

Last year I spent a few days at my son's house with the grands.  One of the things that my grands and I like to do together is sing songs - silly ones.  One morning Emma and I were laying in bed singing our silly songs, and I introduced her to my Gram.  I shared Shuffle off to Buffalo with her.  She laughed and laughed and laughed.  I pulled up the actual song from the 50's and played it for her on the computer - which made her laugh more.  She loved it!!!  I felt somewhat like I had introduced two generations to each other - it was somewhat surreal, but a moment I'll cherish!  Shuffle had been entered in to our arsenal of favorite crazy songs to sing.

A few nights ago, Emma called.  We talked a few minutes and sometimes I can tell when she's a little melancholy.  Their move back to Iowa has been a challenge for us as we were used to seeing those grands almost weekly.  We have all tried to adjust to the long distance relationship, but sometimes its just hard.  After a short while, Emma whispered into the phone, "Nana will you sing with me?"  I said, "oh sure Em, what do you want to sing?"  She whispers, "Shuffle", and giggles.  So, over the phone lines I began to sing and she quietly joined me.  The tears welled up and I choked out the song.  Memories flooded me.  Memories of Gram and her pettie pants, and memories of just a short year ago, hugging and snuggling and laughing with my granddaughter making new memories of one that was paramount almost a half a century ago.  It was truly a bittersweet moment.

What I've learned?

God gives us moments in our lifetime to savor.  Things that may be very simple, so simple we may have a tendancy to overlook or take for granted.  We don't know when life is gonna turn upside down and those opportunities to make memories will vanish.  Time passes so quickly, and it is so easy to get caught up in things that have no eternal value, and very little earthly value for that matter.  Singing silly songs doesn't really evoke a spiritual lesson, and not everything does.  But those earthly lessons that dig down deep into my soul creating and defining my person, lends to my recognition of my sheer and utter dependence upon my God.  Dependence on Him for carrying me through grief.  Dependence on Him for carrying me through fear.  Dependence on Him to see to it my very needs are met, no matter how small - no matter how big.  He is faithful.  Faithful not just in "spiritual" things, but faithful to create these little things like songs, and laughter, and love - that truly show me that He cares about me even in the details of life.  God is so good, He is so good . . . .

to me.

I love you Gram.  I love you Emma.

Flat on my back

Life is fickle.

Its my hearts desire to be home - taking care of the needs of my family. I struggle with getting in the car and going to a job, and finding ways to be thankful for it!! My heart seems to lag behind me, resting in the comfort and familiarity of home. For some reason, that is not where God would have me just now.

Two weeks ago I suffered a severe sprain to my back and I've been down on the couch since. My wish to be home was granted! Right . . . . . a typical sequence of events in our house:

End of October, Jim goes to play racquetball and decides to play 5 back to back games, comes home and his knee starts to bother him. He can't put much weight on the knee, and he feels bone to bone. Finally meets with the ortho, thinking there's a meniscus tear, they wait for approval for an mri. Still waiting . . . . . . still waiting . . . . . . .

Jim and I decide we need a different couch. Why? Well, we just do that from time to time. This time because we have moved to a smaller house and need the sleeping space, so we decide that we needed to swap out the leather sectional for a hideabed. Being the Craigslist junkie I am, I listed the couch right away . . . and it sold. That was a Friday.

Sunday, I go to get into Jim's vehicle. I plant my butt on the seat, and begin to spin my legs around to get in. I failed to check to make sure my head was in, and upon my spin - hit my head on the roof of the truck and send my head, neck and shoulders spinning in the opposite direction - kinda like wringing myself out like a washcloth!! Diagnosis is: severe sprain to the right intercostals, and severe strain to the left side of my back.

And so, I am at home. My hearts desire. Flat on my back. Looking at all the dust, and spots that need to be touched up from the fast and furious paint job this summer. Walking on the floors with two weeks of dust and debris, and left over evidence of two littles we had a slumber party with. Then there's the garage. Oh yes, the garage. I have a panic attack laying here thinking about the garage. When we moved it was hotter than Hades, and we unloaded only what we needed, deciding to leave the rest til the weather breaks. In the meantime we have "needed" things still boxed in the garage and so have created meyhem in there. Its a scary place, and laying here thinking about it elevates it to a living nightmare that I can't get out of my head, because its only 30 feet away. AND I can't do anything about it!!!

So you say, how does this all fit together? It doesn't - thats the problem. I can't sit up because of the pressure it puts on my back. We have no couch. Laying in bed is fine, but after so many hours it causes pain too. So, we pulled out our furniture hidden in other rooms and made ourselves a little living room. I have the love seat. Jim switches between the glider rocker and the slipper chair with no arms. When he needs to ice his knee he moves the glider footstool to the side of the chair and lays sideways. The poor dog - yes, the poor dog. She climbs upon Jim's shoulder and hangs her head over the top of the chair. There's no where for her to go - poor baby . . .

Yesterday I had cabin fever so bad I just wanted to get out. I thought maybe going to a small store and leaning over a cart would be ok - so off we went. Can I just say - bad idea. Jim's knee was killing him and he was limping thru the store, my back was on fire and I have myself thrown over the cart to relieve pressure, and there we were. A total sight for sore eyes. We remind ourselves that we do live within blocks of Sun City AZ - the retirement capital of the country -and we are almost there. Sidenote - SunCity allows golf carts on the streets. So are they carts, or cars? Who knows, doesn't really matter!!

And yet, God in His faithfulness shows up.

In my humanness the beginning of October I was furious with Jim's boss. He got ticked off at the insurance company and decided he was going to change it come the first of November. Who does that? We got the initial paperwork that said there was a $1500 deductible, which would need to be met for Jim to have his knee looked at, and then another $1500 deductible the first of January. I was having a fit! Two days before the insurance took effect, Jim tells me that the owner covered the gap insurance - meaning no deductible at all - and he could insure me for 1/2 of what I'm paying at my employer, so he did. This new insurance is great and his knee is covered. Better yet? I had reached my maximum visits at the chiro, had this new insurance not have come along, my back would not have been covered.

With both of us being laid up, what Jim can't do I'm able to, and what I can't do, he can. Our needs are met. One of our biggest fears was being alone without our kids in these sorts of circumstances. The week before my back issue, our last son near us moves away. We are alone. Just us two. Alone. Yet, God has filled our lives with the love of others that have stepped in and helped us as we need.

I still love being home. Even laid up, I love being home. I love finding ways to occupy my time to be productive. I love being here when Jim gets home from work. I love being able to sit still in the morning reflecting on God's goodness sipping the most wonderful coffee in the world. But for now, this too shall pass, and back to the grind I will go. I will be grateful for the reprieve even tho laid up, and grateful for the rest, but mostly grateful knowing that God does have a plan.

What have I learned?

God always shows up!! He in His sovereignty knew our needs even when I saw it as a horrible thing. Even as we are down and out physically, our needs have been met. Even when our biggest fear becomes reality, our needs have been met and our fears relieved.

Twas grace that set my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieved. I once was lost but now am found, was blind . . . but now I see.

Simply Amazing Grace!