Ooooh and Ahhhhh

Due to Hurricane Irene, my daughter and her family got to experience power failure these last few weeks of summer. We had so lovingly described our two instances of losing power for more than 24 hours that Mother Nature thought she should experience our plight. Life without power for her was slightly different since she has two preschoolers and had windows tightly covered with metal. They were all hunkered down. (I love that word – hunkered!)

Once power was restored, her three year old found it fascinating to go to each light switch and check whether lights would shine. Being the world’s most fabulous toddler, he loudly announced his findings. The lights glowing at merely a switch of a lever marveled my young grandson. His highly scientific mind required him to keep checking this stunning discovery. Light on; light off. Switch up; switch down. This was enthralling, captivating and mesmerizing all rolled into a simple flick. WOW!

I ponder at what things in life have intrigued me to that extent. The first looks at each of my grandsons brought my heart to a stop and tears to my eyes as I tried to fathom how God could bless me so much. Fireworks, those huge buggers that fill the sky, capture my being. When the sun peeks through a cluster of clouds sending long rays to kiss the earth, I think of my wonderful Momma sending love from heaven. Waves crashing to the sandy shore catch me and steal all negative thoughts. Amazing Grace resounding from a church choir brings more tears and that feeling of unconditional love witnessed to me by Mom.

What things captivate you and send shivers of enthusiasm to your brain? Are there experiences you have had that have carved pathways in your heart all the way up to your tear ducts? When did God catch you surprised and stopped you in your tracks less you disturb your surroundings? How did life come screeching to a gentle halt as you memorized the scene?

I think God sends those occasions far more often than we notice. Stop and glance at one of those picnic ants carting away a food nugget jammed with caloric delight. Peek at the underside of a leaf to see all the intricacies placed by the Lord. Better yet, find an infant whose mother you know so you can stare at a small clenched fist and tiny toes with tinier nails. You’ll find God’s handiwork.

So take some time to OOOH and AHHH. Life is too short. But don’t forget, life is good.

Way God Uses Chronic Pain to Prove Life is Good:
- Our pace is slowed enough to capture these photos taken by God.

Mission Impossible

Thanks Chris for today’s loving reminder to continue writing out my thoughts and feelings. This blog remains my baby and allows me to masquerade as some award-winning author. I continue to dream of publishing just one short paragraph but unfortunately am unaware of any publisher to whom I can bribe, beg or plead. More importantly, without me realizing, these posts serve as a release of my inner feelings and emotions. They’re a distraction to my pain. I float above any unfortunate circumstances and coast to my laptop to relay my latest antics.

Today was the annual Mission Fair at my church; an opportunity for the various boards to communicate the great things accomplished by their dedicated members as well as plead for additional workers. I somehow was chosen by our Stephen Leaders to hawk our ware. I wrote some trivia questions that provided some humor and brought curious people over to our table when I celebrated correct answers. I’m surprised and even slightly shocked that my introverted personality and shy demeanor could pull off the performance. At a back, corner table, large felt hearts laid waiting for church members to write their personal mission. Although this simple and straightforward assignment sounded easier than my goofy trivia, I paused when presented with my green heart. What is my “mission” and how could that possibly defined?

Were we to write our daily goals in life or our elevated lifetime aspirations of peace on earth, good will to men? Could it be the fake “love my enemies except for my nasty boss or Green Bay Packers” or a loftier “find the cure to cancer before Wednesday”? Most days my primary goal is to merely climb up the stairs at the end of the day in less than 42 minutes or to be able to verbalize my first name upon initial request in under 3 hours and 51 seconds. Then there are longer goals like weigh less than defensive line of the Chicago Bears. What did I want to write?

Although I’m often more than verbose, I simplified my answer to just a solitary word: pray. My mom was the perfect model of a person who exemplified the use of prayer. She truly lived by the Biblical philosophy to pray continuously. Despite the years, I miss that wonderful woman to the very bottom of my heart. Love you Momma. Anyway, I confess that I frequently tell people that I will pray for them, but I have been known to forget names or situations with 3.6 seconds. Thank goodness that with my limited social calendar, I’ve come to use some of that extra time with my hands folded. Although I don’t constantly fall to my knees in supplication to Jesus (because I am unable to stand afterwards), I have mastered the pray continuously part. The world provides me with ample topics needing the Lord’s help. Even as a church, I feel the power of prayer is often overlooked and neglected. I long for my meditation times to increase both quantitatively and qualitatively. I know such techniques can be powerful painkillers for many of my maladies. (I’m not sure it works on Bad Hair Days.) Prayer can and will help the needs of so many others. We just need to bother to stop and take the moment to talk with (not to) God. I’m seriously working on reducing the length of my mantras in order to actually keep my mouth closed and my thoughts focused. (Those two tasks seem like monumental miracles in and of themselves!) I want to gather with my fabulous church family and pray together – for ourselves, our friends, and yes to you, my bloggees. (I think I made up that word, but I like it.)

So, that’s my mission. Einstein’s mission is to avoid skunks and Bob is trying to avoid more doctor bills since the pile now topples over the top of his head. Stop to ponder what you would write on that green heart as your mission? Maybe you would like to come join me in prayer about it. Looks like the mission of the Cubs going to the World Series is not working this fall, but just wait until next year. Even so, life is good!

Benefit of Having Chronic Pain to Prove Life is Good:
- When I fall and can’t get up, I get to use the opportunity for increased prayer time.

Wiggling Toenails Save the Day

I’ve been negligent in writing my blog, and I’m unsure of the reason for such a delay. My mind gets wrapped around other subjects making transitions difficult. I so enjoy and depend upon my time tapping away at the computer for it provides a freedom from many of my limitations that I run to avoid.

My health really remains pretty constant. Prayers led me to taking my “when all else fails – panic pill”. Nothing else was coming close to getting this latest wave of the migraine to the manageable phase. The tinnitus was deafening making even television impossible. The vertigo had created some unusual gymnastic flops with bruises and scrapes to verify my lack of coordination. The headache had me in tears as I rocked on the bathroom floor for too many consecutive days .

So, I popped the pill to begin a new segment of my Mighty Three lifestyle. It knocks me out for 48 hours. The sleep is not pleasant and I wake looking like I have tried to swim the English Channel. My muscles are sore for I tighten them throughout my sleep, clenching on to some invisible key to open freedom from my demons.

However, I thrilled to report that Bob and I did manage a rare episode of both being coherent at the same time for about twelve hours of bliss. The day was gorgeous as huge cumulus clouds led us on a special gift of loving relaxation. We found a few geos and actually ate at a restaurant that had menus with free, salty popcorn. A waitress actually took our order. This joint was nice! We actually ended the day holding each other’s hand in grateful prayer. The day was the type of which dreams are made. Our gait was slow and slightly staccato, but our appearance was like an average AARP couple. How I yearn to have more of those days.

Bob’s memory has continued to play tricks on him, dropping him into an unknown land of caskets and darkness. His falls are becoming more frequent, but who am I to complain. I needed his loving assistance more than once when I was “stuck” on the floor however he managed to raise me without large equipment and further embarrassment. Yet Bob is fighting an inner pain beyond that of his neuropathy. How horrifying to wake up lying on a wet floor, knowing not how you got there or where you lay. As long as my voice comforts him, we’ll keep on trudging. Our work with the Memory Clinic is still two months away.

My relationship with Christ remains strong. I try to find the hidden smiles amidst a troubling day that He has provided for my enjoyment. I’ve been reading some fabulous books and respect our nightly devotions. Einstein is good at adding humor, particularly since I am probably the only person or living organism to sit near him as his skunk stench still drifts through the air. I look down and glimpse brightly shining toenails and remember a recent hour of indulgence. My daughter taught me that you can’t be depressed when you have bright pink toenails wiggling happy thoughts.

I’m comforted by this post for it has emptied my troubles and replaced them with comfortable thoughts. Bob and I are bless with a fabulous marriage, and I have a daughter who continues to honor her folks. She called to inform me that today she asked Teddy who had made him so smart. He quickly replied God, a wonderful answer providing me with a sense of “Woo Hoo!” She continued by quizzing him on who made him so smart. His fast response was “Nanny!” Yep, life is good.

Way God Uses Chronic Pain to Define Life is Good:
- When you are stuck on the floor and can’t get up, you can still look at bright toenails and remember life is good.

Moo or Growl?

Looking back over my posts, I notice that I forgot to mention another one of those “oops” that plagued our premises over this last week or so. Our yard now is in an animal print, very becoming matching today’s trendy chic in neighborhood yards. The landscaping crew diligently applied fertilizer/pesticide to ward off weeds while encouraging growth of the grass. I suppose that everything went according to schedule except the team made a major oops. The solution was not diluted. It caused a lovely burn print within just two days.

I think the yard closely resembles that of a cow while my hubby believes it more closely looks like a leopard. Nobody has claimed a Dalmatian yet in case anyone wants to warrant a guess. At first there were just burn spots throughout our property. The landscaping company admitted their error so worked hard to apply topsoil, seed, peat moss and then more seed. This caused the spots to enlarge and new colors to emerge. We have now agreed that the front is surely bovine while a more exotic breed is across the back. We’re very grateful that they readily assumed guilt and tried to rectify the mistake.

Unfortunately, now we have to water the spots daily. That doesn’t sound too time- consuming, athletic brawn or the assistance of a Rhodes scholar. The trouble occurs when realizing the vast amount of lawn affected. An aerial view would show that over 50% of the lawn has been recently seeded. Unfortunately, the thirsty area did not neatly split the yard in half to ease watering. Instead, we cart the hose around. To insure summer success, it must be hand watered at least twice daily. To accomplish this task would just reinforce the theory that Bob and I have no lives.

So you can spot (ha-ha, funny use of the word) either Bob or I out watering the yard for far longer a percentage of time than I would prefer. We have dedicated this much time to our dark circles, that to fail them now would somehow be almost sacrilegious. (I had difficulty accurately spelling this word and requested assistance via Facebook. My daughter came up with this option. A smart daughter of a friend instead opined that the correct term should just be sacrilege.) Anyway, it wouldn’t be nice. (Thanks Stephanie and Lauren. You too Carole!)

That's just another example of one of the freaky things happening at our residence. I think that I will be glad when September comes our way in hope for the luck to change direction. Meanwhile it makes great blogs and Christmas letters. Maybe this year for Christmas I will just combine all the posts into one long letter. It would be heavy on postage but would hopefully bring a smile or two. Oops, it’s my turn with the hoses and sprinklers. Gotta go!

Way God Uses Chronic Pain to Prove Life is Good:
- Life provides fun games to pass the time. For instance, how many animals can you name with spots? I’ve given you two.

Lots of "Stuff"

I’m surrounded by “stuff” that reminds me of the love and support that cushions a poor day. I think that is partially why my home is accumulated with too many things. I joke that my daughter will kill me if she has to clean out all this stuff after I die. She never smiles at that joke. I wonder why.

I’ve always managed to remember how I became the owner of such a plethora of things. They’re now carefully arranged in order to be in full view during times that I feel my worst for they serve as inspirations as they remind me of my good fortune. I read an article suggesting I should take photos of these prized possessions, for a picture (downloaded upon a computer) takes far less room than the items they represent. I’ve recently worked hard to say “goodbye” to countless items that have been stuffed in drawers or packed in brown cardboard boxes, however I know a stranger could easily fill dozens of dumpsters with the paraphernalia that fills my home.

As I gaze around my family room, I see many of those items that transform this room into a real “family” room. My fluffy Cubs blanket, carelessly draped over a chair, was purchased when Stephanie and I were frozen solid during a serious attempt of qualifying the Cubs for a World Series play-off. They didn’t make the final cut, but I still treasure my blanket. Bob’s using one of his favorite glasses; ones that came with Icee’s he purchased with Stephanie. They advertise that virtual farming that takes a great deal of his time, but also manages to distract him from some of his pain. I spot a rubber duck across the room that my youngest grandchild clutched during a recent visit to my home. Next to that are Lego’s, blocks used by my oldest grandson during playtime with me. That boy sure loves to sprawl the blocks across the floor while making towers and bridges. (Please don’t picture me later standing from that floor because it is not a pleasant sight.) Photos surround me of memories etched in my heart. I can hear the giggles of certain young boys precious beyond words. Next to me are two cloth napkins left over from a gourmet dinner. (We ordered pizza, but at least had to go pick it up ourselves.) My daughter urged me to grab a few colored napkins in our attempts to add some green to our lifestyles. My Christmas nutcrackers, gifts from an extravagant husband who supports me in ways no one will ever realize, peek out of the glass door of the curio so “we” can get eye contact.

I know our cleaning lady shudders at so many of our “treasures”, but they won’t be going anywhere as long as I can help it. When my body is sending messages of ouch, I try to focus on one of these items filling my home and heart. I don’t endorse these figures as things that totally eradicate all discomfort in less than 28 seconds, but they do lessen that ache that otherwise pulls at my heartstrings. I can’t imagine my life without some of these props.

I hope your home has “stuff” crammed into corners. Let memories wash over you when life puts up some hurdles. It’s amazing the strength hidden in your “treasures”.

Way God Uses Chronic Pain to Prove that Life is Good:
- He gives me more time to gaze upon stuff and recall life’s goodness.

Dog vs Skunk - Skunk Wins

My poor husband was far from perky last night, so I took the last dog duty of the day. Einstein was pretty pooped, change that to tired, so I was encouraging him to hurry up and “do his duty”. The weather was fine, and many neighbors were giving their electric bill a break by opening up their windows.

We had only gone a few houses when Einstein ventured into the grass. His best buddy lived at this property, so Einstein always left his mark to tell his pal he had stopped by the house. My dog was approximately two feet from me when I saw him pounce. This is his way to invite a friend to dance. That sounds charming, but his new friend didn’t like the idea. It didn’t take me long to find out his dance partner-to-be was a skunk.

Yep! You figured it out! Einstein got sprayed. I must pause here to explain a strong character trait of my little pooch. One of the reasons he was named Einstein was his investigative skills when he heard, saw or smelled something unknown. His little head would quickly swivel to survey the area and determine the cause of this disturbance. Mind you, our first dog would run and hide in the bathtub when he heard any noise new to him. Einstein instead sits on top of the vacuum and enjoys the joy ride. The smell of any body lotion or shampoo sends him into a tizzy. He’ll roll and bark and roll some more. Anything cooking on the stove gets him sniffing away and immediately settled behind your heels. Now return to the beginning of this paragraph.

This is not the ideal dog for a spray. He practically rolled the entire way to our home. Thank goodness we were only three houses away. I left him on the back stoop as I went inside in search of tomato juice and help from a husband. Bob had been sleeping on the couch. He doesn’t wake up very easily, particularly in the evening. Meanwhile, Einstein was barking away, I stunk and my body was reminding me that I’m diagnosed with fibromyalgia. Strong odors also quickly bring on a migraine and vertigo. I soon stood alone on our poorly lit back porch with a large bowl, tomato sauce and a whimpering dog (or what resembled six whinpering dogs since the vertigo was in action.)

Bob has our hose hooked up with 356 devices so it more closely reflects his testosterone level. You have to flick this and pull that before any water comes near the faucet. There I attempted to stand clad in old shorts and a T-shirt next to a crazy and confused dog. I didn’t have tomato juice, but I was praying that watered down tomato sauce would work. I did my best to wash Einstein down. Bob soon appeared in time to try to hold Einstein in one spot and provide me with suggestions. We needed to now go to stage seven and shampoo our unhappy pet upstairs in the spare bathroom. Bob felt it best for me to carry up this whining and wiggling monstsrosity.

At that time, I was sure those hidden cameras were getting fantastic pictures. Einstein does not like to be carried. He was wet, pink and confused. His dignity was now questionable. I merely needed to wrap him in a towel, lift him, open the doors to go through the house and then carry him up a flight of stairs. My body was reeling, my head was pounding and my dog was not happy.

I somehow managed to get upstairs without killing the dog or myself. I got all the things Bob would need to bathe him and changed out of my wet clothes. I had already replaced my smelly clothes from our earlier walk. By now, I wasn’t trying for any stylish points. When Bob made it up, I headed to the store to purchase hydrogen peroxide, the recommended solution to rid skunk sprays. The caring cashier also ran for Dawn, apparently the best dishwashing solution for such incidents. I dashed home and deposited the treasured bag next to Bob.

Needless to say, Einstein did not sleep with us. We put a slightly damp dog with minimal pink fur in his cage while wishing him happy dreams. I tossed in a pig ear to hopefully amuse him and provide us with some escape time before the barking would begin.

At 7:00, I was on the phone to beg our groomer for help. She agreed to bathe our dog, the fifth canine in three days to encounter skunks. She luckily took him in but warned me that he better not get wet in the coming months. Water apparently brings back the distinct smell even stronger than the initial odor. It stays in the pores for at least two to three months. We will therefore be using umbrellas and dog galoshes anytime there is a dark cloud in the sky.

Later that morning, I found out that our neighbors are more cognizant of smells than fire engines blaring in the night. My two-year-old buddy next door awoke to a bad smell and called for his mom. (Why is it that kids so often call for moms instead of dads late in the night?) His mom got bombarded with the smell as soon as she opened the door. After closing all the windows, Dean got to sleep with his folks.

The woman across the street came to question us about the nighttime surprise. She got up to shut the window and feared that skunks were once again residing by her garbage cans. Wiggling her husband to ask his opinion, he mumbled that it must be those crazy neighbors across the street. I guess we now have an image to live up to.

I realize that this post is starting to grow slightly longer than usual, but I’m dreading the conclusion. When I’ve posted my latest escapade, it’s time to take Einstein for a stroll. I think we will go in the opposite direction.

God Uses Chronic Pain to Prove Life is Good:
- These crazy escapades are increasing our chat time with the neighbors. Fellowship is delightful, and life is good.

God Thumps this Proud Parent

This was quite a remarkable day in two totally different arenas. I need to include them both, partially so you may experience the magical qualities when life goes right.

First off, my daughter was born 27 years ago today at the ungodly time of 4:52 AM. I don’t do mornings well, in fact I don’t do mornings at all. Since she kept me up past late and into the wee hours of the morning, I have always managed to annually sing “Happy Birthday” to her at that specific time since her birth. The last years have been via phone. This tradition assures others of my insanity perhaps, but it is one my daughter and I treasure. After she wrecked my sleep that night, and perhaps a few more beyond that, I don’t feel guilty about waking her up. I haven’t really asked her husband’s reactions however. I feel honored and blessed to call her my daughter and now even my friend. I respect her values and beliefs, as she becomes a model mother and wife. She knows my hidden intricacies and encourages my every move. Thank you Stephanie. I love you. We have many memorable exploits, but those descriptions will have to be put on hold.

You see, God thumped me on the head today. My migraines and vertigo have been staggering these last days. I’m forced to live within inches of my porcelain goddess due to the side effects of these conditions. I reached a new low when I found myself unable to rise from the floor, my tired and weary body refusing to cooperate. Everywhere hurt! Tears continually streamed down my chubby cheeks as I sat alone, begging God for help. I wanted to disappear within the embraces of my blankets while I hugged my pillow for emotional support. God let me wallow around awhile until enough was enough.

This spring, we got a large stone mailbox, a growing trend within the reaches of our neighborhood. It measures about two feet per side and stretches to a height of almost five feet. This monstrosity has guarded our postal correspondence, daring anyone to confront it. Well, it was confronted today. A wonderful young man, who helps with our tanks and has become almost a son, was backing out of our driveway to allow us to park beside him. My beauty must have distracted him, for the edge of his side door came in contact with said mailbox. The whole darn thing fell over in a thump heard round the world, or at least within our block.

We couldn’t believe the number of people stopping by to question how a stone mailbox could possibly be horizontal. Drivers nearly collided as their necks craned to look at this oddity. There were a multitude of ideas and theories about the easiest or most efficient ways to change the direction of this stone monster. It seemed in good condition; it was just positioned in the wrong direction. The afternoon ended with the mailbox still prone but ideas still festering in the testosterone of the neighborhood. The evening brought to our doorstep a large truck that pulls cars out of unique locations onto a flatbed. The truck doors opened with two young men ready to face a new challenge. Once again, neighbors appeared ready to help and observe the fiasco. Opinions flowed freely. After straps were attached in 37 different ways, the mailbox slowly began to rise. By then 2 x 4’s were strewn across our parkway, metal pry bars varied in width and length covered the grass. A wooden flat, chains and straps piled high until they resembled a car repair garage. The great news is that our mailbox is now vertical.

I began this post with the promise of a future thump from God, and I suppose you’ve waited patiently if you have read to this point. On the back of the mailbox, one dark stone is now slightly chipped on the corner. Our wonderful friend, overflowing with unnecessary guilt, promised to restore the mailbox to pristine conditions, complete with a flowering landscape that had never existed in the past. I will blame his youth on his errors in judgment, but my husband and I don’t believe in pristine anything. This gentleman has come into our home on a weekly basis for many a year to service our saltwater tanks and has witnessed our home furnishings hidden under piles of stuff. I don’t need to further embarrass myself by going into additional detail, but I’ve never and will never be known for my impeccable housecleaning skills. I strive for organization, a goal floating off in the distance. I have given up on orderly.

I don’t want the brick fixed because gazing into the broken edge, you find God’s reflection smiling away at His earthly beings actually at their best. The mailbox fell. Whoopee! Look at all the good that happened. Neighbors and friends spanning seven decades all worked together on this heavy puzzle face down on our lawn. There were Polish and Japanese, young and old, male and female, black and white all gathered to help us. There were no arguments or raised voices. Instead laughter touched the heavens as my comedic ideas were rejected. Sweat and strained muscles carefully raised the box to its initial position. Materials from at least six different homes were used, none of them sufficient on their own. Instead, they were used together. Humanity worked.

So, life is VERY good at my home. My body is falling apart, but God reminded me that this condition couldn’t take priority for there are so many people out there ready to help us without even a request. They all came together to help work on a puzzling predicament. God showed me the camaraderie that makes Him so proud as a parent.

Parenting went well today. I’m a proud Momma (and grandma too!) My daughter fills me with pride as she walks though her life with a wonderful family at her side.
God smiles down at His children, our neighbors, banded together to help my husband and I. We are so very blessed. Life is good.

That chipped section cannot be fixed for each day I get the mail, I can glance over at the worn edges and be reminded that God has great things stored away for me. An amalgam of people came together to help without even being asked. Imagine if I would ask these neighbors. Imagine if I would ask God. Life is definitely good.

Way God Uses Chronic Pain to Prove the Life is Good:
- Others come together to help by using their God given strengths and blessings.

Worse than Rip Van Wrinkle, But Looking More LIke Him

Can’t believe that I’ve neglected my poor blog. There is a huge gap in postings, a new record for me. My daughter’s family was in town for a three-day weekend. She keeps her days packed to the second since she makes it back to the Midwest so infrequently. She can make it on this schedule, but her ol’ Momma passes out after they leave to return home. There are still some toys scattered in the family room that I don’t plan on picking up anytime in the near future. The Sippy cups actually belong to little ones instead of me. I miss my grandsons. Each time they leave, the hole in my heart gets bigger.

We were able to have a 31 party – the newest party for bags and more. Stephanie did a wonderful job plus that means that I get lots of free stuff. It was a nice way to show her off to many of my friends.

Their flight home wasn’t scheduled until after 9 PM, but was delayed until closer to 10:30 or so. They flew out of Boston, so had a long drive once they got there. The bad part was my poor son-in-law had to be at work at 5 AM – That’s in the morning. UGH! The Navy even has the audacity of making him work until tomorrow night. This is why most of the military are young.

I spent the majority of the day in bed due to a really bad migraine. I know I am not going for any dancing on the town when I lose my balance and fall twice on the way to the bathroom. You think I would be a little more coordinated by now. With all of this beauty rest, I also would have hoped that something would have been done with my body. The last I checked, the image remains the same and the scale is my number one enemy.

I'm off to bed now - again! You will get a “real” posting tomorrow.

How God Uses Chronic Pain to Prove Life is Good:
- You get extra time in bed to dream of a fabulous life.

Dreams are Whispers from the Soul

have begun a new nightly routine since my birthday last week. While at the spa, I found a prayer devotional journal that I felt would stretch my Christian growth. I recognized that I had fallen into habits that were not making me grow. (Besides my waistline that is!) With my physical conditions, I frequently missed the various Bible studies offered at my own church. Besides that, I admit that frankly I am just lazy, blaming my constancy on my back, brain and really whole body. Although I am aware of the tasks confronting me each day, I allow those handicapping characteristics to too often control my actions. It’s accurate that I frequently cannot safely drive a car or even walk down a hallway. My speech has slowed, stuttered and slurred. I don’t like these physically constricting binds to overtake the whole Janet. Now more than ever, I need the Lord by me. I’m blessed with the comfort of the Holy Spirit and honestly thank God daily for my Christian faith. However, I also know that I must not allow my walk with God to remain stagnant. I must continue to learn and grow in Christ’s words. So, along comes the devotional.

I’m daily questioned about things as simplistic as special prayers I have for that date. No problem there. I’ve always been quite persistent to “tell” God of my prayers. It’s just the listening piece that needs a great deal of perfection. I also must list some of my answered prayers. I have a whole page to reflect on God’s presence in my life that day as well as write goals for tomorrow that will help my Christian life unfold. A great part is where I need to write any inspiration that has blessed me during the day, such as Bible verse, quote, etc.

Throughout this process, a great website became known to me. It’s called Simple Truths. By surrounding ourselves with positive writings, pictures and people, our personal demeanor reflects such associations. It’s getting late and I know that I am not describing this to the fullest. Basically, if you want to be happy, be around things (and people) that are happy. That sounds quite naïve as I type along, but the philosophy is quite accurate. We all have been around those grumblers only to start grumbling ourselves. The same behaviors also occur on the positive side.

Here are a few of the quotes I read today that I found most compelling:

• Dreams are whispers from the soul.
• There are the dreams we have for our life and there are dreams that life has for us. — Marcia Wieder, Author.
• When we choose not to focus on what is missing from our lives but are grateful for the abundance that's present... We experience heaven on earth.
• Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass...it's about learning how to dance in the rain! - Vivian Green
• I must be the happiness I wish to share in the future.
• Live the life you love; Love the life you live.
• Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase. ~ Martin Luther King
• You don't have to be great to start, but you have to start to be great. ~ Joe Sabah
• Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes it is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, “I will try again tomorrow.”

Tell me how I can possibly be down in the dumps when concentrating on any of the above quotes. You can’t just read through the list once though, give a quick hmmmf, and go ahead with your plans. Instead you must take one and let it seep into your soul as life brings a smile to you. You know what I always say: I’m a grandma and Life if good.

Way God Uses Chronic Pain to Prove Life is Good:
- He provides me with the time to find great sites like Simple Truths.
www.simpletruths.com

Waiting

I’m sitting in a hospital waiting room, which is kind of usual for us I guess. Luckily, this time it is only for tests. Bob is having his entire body CAT scanned and MRIed. So I am pretending to be comfy while I type these words and ignore the jabbering of a nearby child. Others surround me reading, talking and even sleeping. Oh the things we do while waiting.

Meanwhile we have people at our home who are putting in ceiling tiles and others who are checking out my tank. Yoshi, the companion fish for my pistol shrimp, died. They have this symbiotic relationship where the pistol shrimp builds the home and protects her while she goes out to gather food. (Sounds a little familiar to other human relationships that I know.) Well, I just found out the when the fish dies; the pistol shrimp goes a little nuts. You should see the large rocks that he knocked over and the reaction of the other fish as they try to huddle in some cave or hole. Plus the chiller is not working correctly so the temperature is cool. When I left, it was 77.1 and it should be closer to 80 degrees. Can you imagine if others expected to keep your surroundings within one degree? These little fishees have the right idea.

I’ve been a real ditz lately. I was so proud that I had mailed off the newsletter articles for my church newsletter early, but I had written them without ever sending them. After a request by the editor, I found it in the draft folder. If anyone out there has found a spare brain, I would appreciate having it. I don’t know where I left mine!

So the day continues, much as others. I’m getting better grabbing appropriate items with me as we trudge off for doctor appointments and medical tests. With free Wi-Fi and my power cord, this little laptop of mine can keep my busy. I even brought my kindle in case reception was lousy. I’m getting so techie. I’m only about 15 years behind.

My daughter’s family will be here in “three more sleeps”. I’ve noticed that is the trendy terminology currently used for those with small ones. (If you are confused, just replace “sleep” with “night” and you will be fine. I tried throwing a nap in there so they would arrive sooner, but it didn’t work.) I’m anxious to see them all. Stephanie and the little ones are in a wedding. I’m curious to see how fabulous the little ones do. At 1½ and 3½, I think they will steal the show. They return in about three months for the wedding of my niece. I need some other happy gathering around January to keep them coming at any frequency.

I feel guilty that I did not journal with my prayers and devotions last night. It’s so easy to stop a habit. I am great at convincing myself that things can wait as I strive to do things in moderation with my chronic pain. The bad news is that I have this slower life style down so well; I seldom get anything accomplished anymore. I better start speeding it up some. What a pity since I am so good at snoozing, playing on the computer and reading. The house and “to do” list can wait.

I’m getting tired of the summer heat, but fear expressing those emotions with too much zeal for the winter months will have us hunkering down sooner than we want.

These flippant paragraphs on today’s post really hold far more information about me than they appear at first glance. My life is spent waiting for all sorts of good things – good hospital tests, visits by grandsons and a son-in-law with my daughter in tow, and then time for the computer to get in sync so I can play my goofy games.
How blessed I am to be able to have this life style for a portion of my life. I’ll be up busy again soon. Just stay tuned and watch.

Manner God Uses Chronic Pain to Prove Life is Good:
- I can have periods of laziness and blame it on pain prevention without too much hassle from friends who know me.

PJ's and a Bathrobe

Bob and I are back home after two relaxing nights at a spa. There are tons of stories that will fill this site at a later date when I have more energy. I have a doozy about a young gal who cannon balled into the outside pool. As my grandson Teddy says, “Not Cool!” My body is still just moosh after these days of pampering (and possibly with my additional year). We have gone here before and love it more each visit. I had a wrap, hour massage and my fingers and tootsies are colorful. We are both kind of achy due to exuberant masseuses (I had to check the spelling of that $3 word) who wanted to detoxify us. They got their work out since there is a lot on us to detoxify. Rides are always tough on my body, so I am laying low tonight. Maybe I could get a part-time job with the state to tell them which roads are the bumpiest. It was great to spend our days in those comfy bathrobes, so I continued the habit tonight and am now happily clad in PJ’s and my robe and slippers. I doubt Bob will supply pull down service upstairs with a mint on the pillow, but my hips are not lacking padding from one to many chocolate yummies.

What a wonderful feeling to be able to return home with no smoke smell and electricity working. The air conditioning feels good. I realize how much differently I live as an adult than my parents did. We didn’t have AC when I was a kid and didn’t think much of it. The best times were when we could sleep on a sheet on the living room floor with a big fan directed at us while we slept.

We are about to become parents of black clown fish tonight. Bob is determined to catch the fry. The fire had us take a few steps backwards with this fish rearing, but he hates seeing them all gobbled up by our other fish. I’ve seen the eggs fertilized, but never hatched. The eyes are visible in the eggs so tonight’s the big night.

I love to hear the excitement in my daughter’s voice as she describes her days at the MOPS convention down in Nashville. The speakers sound fabulous. The first night they had Max Lucado who has always been a favorite of mine. They are eating out late tonight, something unusual for mothers of preschoolers.

I’m closing my eyes as soon as I motivate my body to stand up. I’m not even very comfortable now, but I’m too tired to move. My body is spotting some extra bruises from the massages, but I am thrilled that we are financially able to experience such fantastic places. It’s fun to be pampered but hard to return to reality. Even so, life is good.

Way God Uses Chronic Pain to Prove Life is Good:
- A massage can be therapeutic thus negating some of the guilt from the splurge.

The Saga Returns OR I'm Getting Rid of This Nightshirt

I was talking with my daughter last night when a huge storm hit the area. I was waiting for our home to be picked up and start swirling away. Since my head was already going in circles, that thought was not particularly frightening. However, snap and our power went out. Not that long ago, our power was out from Monday morning to a Friday evening. Dread quickly washed over me. I sat alone on the couch waiting for light while speaking in a half whisper to my daughter. Still no power. We waited longer with no change. Then the lights flickered on and relief poured through me. It hadn’t gotten very far when the lights were off again. It had to be less than 1.2 seconds. I hadn’t even finished telling my daughter when I heard a far away voice from upstairs. My husband called, “It’s dark up here!”

After a fast, “Stephanie, I have to go.” I went in search for any kind of light. I knew the location of several of our jarred candles since the prior night the oven was emitting smoke like a fire breathing dragon. That’s another story though. I felt pretty proud of myself now having three candles, a laptop and iPhone all brightly glowing. I headed off to find my husband.

We soon sat on the family room couch, each quietly praying for Com Ed to do its magic. Bob did the manly task of going outside and checking the neighborhood. He reported that it was dark all over, not too big of a surprise since it was after 9:00 pm. We decided to try to go to sleep since our apprehension of another long, hot haul was not getting us anywhere.

We finished with the evening’s rituals of clean teeth, jammies and meds and laid down pretending we were both tired. You could hear us each stirring, trying to get comfortable while not disturbing the other. The only one we bothered was the comfortable dog. Bob’s movements were finally still and my brain bounced along inside my head. I could begin to hear the now familiar sound of generators roaring throughout the neighborhood. Bob had already called Steve, the young man from the fish store who planned to be at our home at the ungodly hour of 5 am to start hooking up our tanks. The fish need “flow” even if it were still dark at that time. The saga returned.

Suddenly, I heard loud thumps at our front door. I hesitated probably because I was once again in that famed striped nightshirt I had worn the night of our fire. It was the one I didn’t want the firefighters to see so I had dashed upstairs in a vain effort to change clothes. (I think I’m getting rid of this item of sleepwear.) I knew I couldn’t ignore the second round of pounding. I was too hot to grab a robe, so off I went hobbling down the stairs, pretty sure whom I would find making all that racket.

Sure enough! Our neighbor stood at our front door with a flash light draped around his shoulders and the gleam in his eye of a masked raider ready to come to the aid of the elderly. He had been a Godsend in our last bout of darkness and already knew the routine. Before I knew it, the refrigerator was out from the wall and extension cords were strewn throughout the hallways. The gasoline stench and unmistakable roar could be heard on the back patio. We were almost ready for Round 2.

Gradually, Bob and I had all five tanks plugged in, and both refrigerators now had power. An old box fan sat upon my dresser all set to cool our sweaty bodies. We collapsed in bed, and Bob quickly fell asleep. I was too wired to even think of sleeping so I counted the various generators by their different roars.

About an hour later, our power was restored. I wasn’t sure of my next plan of action. Did I need to get up and go unplug and re-plug everything? It was almost 3:00 am. I loved my husband’s wisdom as he muttered. “Leave them plugged in just in case we lose power again tonight.” He’s brilliant.

So the sun is bright now. I just Skyped the boys, men are still painting our gazebo, the branches are generally picked up in the yard and the generators are all still. We no longer have cords snaking through our home. My only task now is to reset all the timers on the tanks and lights. The clocks still flash in our bedroom, but our home is far cooler. Enough nightly calisthenics for me; I prefer a more leisurely bedtime routine. Thanks for the neighbors and fish dude ready to help. Life is good.

Way God Uses Chronic Pain to Show Life is Good:
- The fear of being hurled away by a tornado is lessened when you already have vertigo!