Me on Myspace

(Started on Monday) Well, quite a bit has been running through my life and my head of late and I've not gotten a blog out in two days. Not a good thing. So, working backwards, lets look at today first. Good day. I had a doctor's appointment this morning and have another tomorrow afternoon. Doctors find older folks interesting and seem to want to spend more time with us than members of the younger generations.

A friend was here this afternoon to learn some things about web design; she'll be coming back weekly for a while. Then two ladies from our Sunday School class came over to see a video they missed Sunday. Richard and I had a healthy dinner... he even ate his salad! Then worked a bit on an impossibly difficult puzzle before doing our personal Bible study. We're in I Timothy 2 right now. You know, that's the one where Paul says some things that the ladies sometimes get upset over. Ha! Now you'll just have to have a read to see what I'm talking about. Send me your comments.

Next, I went through most of my e-mail, but got side tracked by Pastor Rob who sent me over to HisSpace at myspace.com, where I took his suggestion and set up MySpace. I found some of my grandkids are there, too. It will take some time but I'll get the hang of things and customise things as I go.

So, now I am tired. I have been mulling over various things about the church in America today, my 0wn church included, as well as what God's plan is for me at this particular time and place in my life. He knows that I am ready to go anywhere and do anything He asks... Sometimes, however, I have trouble sorting His voice out of the many other voices I choose to attend to. Are they of one accord, or am I meging inappropriately... Hmmm. I'm still mulling. But before I write more I need to mull on my knees a bit. I'll get back to you on this.

When Doctors Say Abortion Necessary

I get the L.A. Times headlines in my mailbox each day along with several nationwide news purveyors. I usually skim through the headlines and leads, only opening links to those of vital interest or impact. I rarely read feature length articles clear through. Today was different...

Today, there was a full length feature (see link at end of this post) about a not particularly religious woman who decided to not to abort a baby she was told would have no brain. This was a single mom of other children, one of them disabled (she'd been offered an abortion before his birth, too). She had no support system when she made her choice. Her story is heartbreaking and compelling, but there's more...

In this story, I learned of an effective and wonderful ministry for those who face the birth of a "damaged" child. Oh, how I wish I had had that before Crystal's birth! Long before Roe vs. Wade, I was almost ordered to have an abortion. In fact, the surgery was already scheduled before I was told about it!

I had been admitted to the ER with symptoms like meningitis, stiff neck, excruciating head pain, nausea and more. But it was an atypical form, and nothing seemed to touch it. The only thing they could do was treat the pain with massive doses of morphine. Weeks went by as they tried one experimental drug after another (University of Utah Med School, a Teaching Hospital).

Gradually, I lost my hearing, sense of smell, balance and will to live. I could not eat. The nausea, like the head pain, resisted all treatment. Then, after 13 weeks in the hospital, it was discovered I was pregnant... about 4 months, they guessed. Decisions were made, but I was not included.

My tube feeding (I was on an NG tube) was stopped at midnight and they came in to prep me for surgery early the next morning. Oh, yes, they presented me a consent form to sign. I was dopey from my pain meds, but God enabled me a moment of clarity and I refused to agree to killing my baby! All day, nurses and doctors came by to convince me that this baby had no chance because of the many experimental drugs I had been given and with the long use of morphine, the baby would be born an addict and mentally defective if it even lived to term.

I was heartbroken. I prayed and begged God to heal me and my baby. Of course, I asked to be taken off all but the bare necessity of meds. I did need something to manage the pain. All other treatment was withdrawn. I could only imagine the harm it may have done my baby. Thoughts of Thalidamide babies with missing or horridly deformed limbs assaulted my days and nightmares of brainless babies with twisted bodies attacken my nights.

After about 6 more weeks, I was allowed to go home even though I was still very ill which was evident, my CS fluid (fluid in spinal cord and cranial areas) was still cloudy and the pressure was still up (part of the pain problem is pressure). God had granted some restoration of hearing and smell, but I still could not walk for the dizziness, plus I was weak from being in bed almost 5 months. The NG tube was removed even though most of what I ate still came back up. Later, when I saw my main neurologist in the hall, he was amazed. He told me that they had assumed I would die and since I begged to go home, they granted what they thought was my "last wish." God is greater than all our woes!

It was a hard pregnancy. I was sick almost constantly. The head pain and other neuro symptoms slowly subsided. I stopped going back for spinal taps, and weaned myself from the morphine, taking it only when the pain was dangerously unbearable. But the hardest part of this pregnancy was grief over my baby. They had convinced me that my baby was surely deformed and brain damaged, that it might not even live to term. I avoided doctors all I could. It was a big
mistake.

Crystal Ann was born by emergency C-section/hysterectomy... performed in a doctor's office examining room! Praise God for Dr. Guettmacher who realized what had happened when I went unconscious on the exam table. In less than a minute, and not a second too soon, he had me open and Crystal out. My overworked uterus had a weak spot under the placenta, a bulge that he would have known about had I been seeing him as I should! Now, during a routine Braxton-Hicks contraction, it began to rip apart, tearing engorged blood vessels as it went.

The placenta came lose and the baby is prompted to inhale; instead of air, she got a lungful of blood. I was rapidly bleeding out. God used Dr. Guettmacher and his office staff to thwart satan's dark scheme.

I woke up back in University Hospital in a panic. Groggy, I saw my painful and bandaged abdomen and connected it with that abortion that I had refused. I screamed, "Where's my baby?!" Then I pulled out my tubes and went in search of her. Sure enough, I was in the maternity ward. What a relief! Then, at the nursery window, I could not see my baby. Fear welled higher in my throat. Tears with a mind of their own flowed down my cheeks onto the flimsy hospital gown.

Soon, huge arms engulfed me from behind, and an angel in uniform whispered in my ear, "Hold still, Sweetie, while I tie up your gown. You don' wanna be givin' folks a cheeky smile, do you?" Then this merciful woman took me to the intensive care nursery where my beautiful and ever so tiny baby lay fighting for her life. She was perfect in every way! The blood she had aspirated was her only problem, but it was a huge problem. Not too huge for God...

God answers prayer. He does the impossible and the unexpected. He puts up His mighty hand and says to the enemy, "That's far enough. No more!" Over and over, this life was threatened, and each time, God spoke LIFE.

Crystal is more than sharp, she's got an IQ above 130 an is one of the most vocal believers I have ever known. She is a bold witness who loves the Lord and lives life passionately. Is she that way because she feels God went out of His way to save her? No, I really doubt she ever thinks about that. Someday, we'll enjoy reviewing all this at the feet of the Master. Today, I praise God for who He is and how He operates... even when I don't understand it.

Now, the link the the great story in the L.A. Times. Be sure to view the pictures, it starts with the baby's ring.

BTW, Braxton-Hicks contraction are non-labor practice contractions found more frequently in women who have had several babies. Believe me, I fit that mold!

Dig, Dig, Digitize!

FRIDAY, JANUARY 27, 2005
I spent much of the day working with pictures. Family, church, Christmas, Las Vegas, Disney, scenery, animals, events... snipets of our lives on this planet. Vignettes of the Things we've done and places we've been. Some are of interest to a select few, others are of great quality and would be pleasing to any eye. I tend to hold on to them dearly, especially now.

I have always treasured family keepsakes, pictures and memorabilia. In a big family, that stuff can pile up fast. Vowing to sort it all into albums, I packed it boxes and stored it in a metal storage building near our newly built retirement house in Pagosa Springs, CO... where the snow comes in doses of 10-12 inches at a time.

You guessed it, the building collapsed. Indeed, since we lived and worked six hours away, we didn't discover this sad event until several snowfalls later. Richard and a friend dug down to the fallen building and carefully brought the crushed and frozen boxes in. We hoped thawing and drying them out would leave us with a salvagable result. Wrong!

Much irreplacible treasure was lost. Now, as I go through the remaining boxes (the ones that never made it to Pagosa) I find that old color photos are badly degraded, turning orange. Old documents, printed on acid-laden paper, are crumbling to dust... I need to work fast and get this all digitized, backed up and shared with others.

It's a daunting chore and I often get sidetracked as I sit and reminisce about old times and old people. It can eat up a day before you know it... but I don't regret that. I'll dust and clean tomorrow.

For now, I'll leave you with this: God has chosen to place you and me in the digital era. Take full advantage of that. Digitize your framily treasures. Grandma's quilt? Take a photo of it, use some software to put a snapshot of grandma in the corner and type a label. Treasure preserved.

There are many other hints, like naming the pictures or organizing them so future generations will know who they are looking at. Yes, Jesus is coming soon, but we are to be found working as we watch and pray.

Cat Kinfolk

Although they are eight years old, our cats Hunter and Sherwood have only been part of the family for a short while. Moving in with us was not their idea. They were happy with their first family and indeed put up quite a struggle to keep from being taken from the only home they had ever known.

We both felt sorry for them. They had no idea why they had to leave the people and place they loved. Cats don't understand (and probably wouldn't care, anyway) that they could be a "trigger" to a child with asthma.

At first, they would have nothing to do with us, then, ever so slowly, they began to warm up to me. It wasn't until I was gone to my aunt's funeral that they made up to Richard. Now they hang out in whatever room we're in and will follow me from room to room as I work around the house. Even so, I am sure if given the choice, they would opt to be with the people they have known and loved from kittenhood.

Do cats ever really love you, or do they just own you? Claws owned us, no doubt about that, but he could take us or leave us. These boys seem to genuinely care for us. At least they are pretty demanding of our attention and covetous of our company... And we enjoy hanging out with them just as much.

Today, with the Women of Grace in the morning and going to Donna's in the afternoon, we were both gone most of the day. The fish didn't seem to care, but the other animal members of our household were not pleased to have been left alone so long. They were all quite clings for several hours, the cats demanding some good "lap" time, Baby Snooks bringing her favorite toys for a rousing romp and Higgins presenting his hindquarters for a thorough scratching. Even now as I type this, Hunter is up in my lap and Sherwood on the chair beside me. The dogs have gone to the bedroom with Richard.

These animals who share our home and our lives bless us in untold ways. I can't imagine life without them. Pets provide a special example of love and God shines through them bathing us with a simple, unconditional warmth and acceptance we may not realize from other members of the family.

Subjectively, we somehow know out pets are not concerned about how we look, what we have financially, or even, to some extent, how we treat them. Having worked in animal rescue over the years, I am ever amazed at how abused and neglected animals will so readly give love to the very people who mistreated them.

I am very fortunate in that I feel loved and accepted by many people, but I still know I need my pets. I love loving and being loved by them. I relish their company. They show me a special side of God, and I thank Him that He has blessed me with their company.

A word of caution, though: Count the costs and commitment before making a pet part of your family... that's right... part of the family. If you are not willing to commit to lifelong love and care, perhaps it's best you don't begin a relationship with a critter. Of course, sometimes things beyond your control can happen, but be prepared to put up with inconvenience, some messes, and the rigors and responsibility of pet ownership. We've never gotten rid of a pet... ever. Oh, of course, the pets we had in rescue were rehomed as was the purpose of rescue, but our family pets lived their lives out with us.

I was especially proud of James and Eva who moved all the members of their family from California to Michigan, including the four-footed kinfolk. Not easy, but the right thing to do!

If you live with a critter, say a special prayer of thanks. If not, consider the rewards, and should you decide you want to open your heart and home to a pet, may I suggest one from a rescue group or local pound.

The Oath

It's been a long day and I need to start early in the morning, but I wanted to write about something that happened today at Stanford. I've been trying to figure out how to tell the story and state the need in an appropriate way.

Donna has been very public about her illness all along. She wisely and readily sought the prayers and support of her community, and God heard and answered those prayers in a mighty way. So, it is not Donna I am concerned about, but those who participate in her care.

Fifty two times a year, a large bore needle must be inserted in a vein so Donna's blood can undergo a process called apheresis. It takes several hours, but time is not the real issue... Maintaining those veins in usable condition is vitally important. A local anesthetic is used because of the size of the canula which must enter the vein.

After enduring painful and destructive punctures from one of the nurses on several visits, Donna reluctantly asked that this person not be assigned to her again. I was pleased and proud, because it is difficult for patients or family to make such a request... often because of the response they might get.

Once when Donna was about to undergo a bone marrow draw from her hip, I noted her doctor was not giving her a local to deaden the area. This is an extremely painful procedure, so I told the doctor to stop and step into the hall with me. At once he was displeased, but I persisted and he came. I didn't want to say anything in front of the nurses and other family members, but I respectfully reminded him that Donna needed anesthetic. His comment was, "It's over in an instant, and the anesthetic will take several minutes to take effect." I told him I was more concerned about Donna's comfort than his time, and he should share that sentiment.

Physicians take and oath, the Hypocratic Oath (so called for Hypocrates), in which they pledge (in part) to "above all, do no harm." Unnecessary pain is harmful, and there is no excuse for it! I was horrified to learn that until I intervened, Donna had never received a local to mitigate this tortuous test. Needless to say, she didn't even know she could have it easier. She knows now, and speaks up for herself when needed.

Back to today's incident: Donna needed a prescription for one of her meds. They write it for one month at a time since these are narcotics. Well and good, but without going into all the details, one of the care givers (a nurse-practitioner, I believe) refused to give it to her, then made an issue of telling Donna to go to her "local" doctor. When Donna tried to explain her reasons for getting the prescription there, she was told to shut up and listen! This woman then turned to me and said, "Well, she lives three hours away!" Turning on her heel, she left the room. Donna was in tears.

Since Stanford is treating her for the Host vs. Graft disease that causes the pain and since they also put her on these meds, that's who should oversee dosages, etc. Ultimately she got her prescription, but I feel it was outrageous that this person who is supposed to be caring for the needs of patients, encouraging and supporting them would be so rude and uncaring, downright mean spirited!

"Above all, do no harm..." Harsh words inflict new wounds... Something we all need to remember.

I am blessed with wonderful doctors, but I've been "treated" by medicos who had forgotten The Oath. God gave me a body and the responsibility to take care of it. If my body or emotions are being illtreated, I say something. I hope you do, too. And I hope you won't be shy about speaking up if a loved one is not being treated well.

Donna was ill all afternoon. Being so upset probably played a part. When I dropped her off at her house, she initiated a prayer for the woman who had been so callous with her. I was not surprised.

The Server is Down

We've spent an afternoon in the Apheresis lab. Now, here at our Palo Alto motel room, Donna and I have had dinner (I brought sloppy Joes) and I am busily (and joyfully) scanning old typewritten pages with family histories. What's incredible about all this is that I am scanning these pages into text documents I can edit, add to or reformat. OCR technology has been around for a while, but often it took more work to convert than just retyping the pages the old fashioned way... except I can't type!

Another great feature of this little gem is that it fits right in my laptop case along with the laptop and half ton of other junk I haul with me. And it cost less that $100. A Canon LIDE60, just in case you are interested... great value. I am inspired!

We've lots to do tomorrow, the server is down and I still have 20 pages to scan, so will bid you a loving farewell.

They Wanna Read Your Story

Not many comments are posted to the public to view, but I get a lot of e-mail about my blogs. I posted those for a while but discovered some of their authors were not pleased. They assumed what they wrote was for my eyes only.

By far, the blogs about episodes or stories from my life draw the most e-mail. People ask for more. Not because my life is all that dramatic, I think, but because we humans have a natural affinity for peeking into one another's past or present life stories. One of the best gifts anyone ever gave us was when my mother-in-law wrote her life story and printed up a copy for each of her sons. She wasn't a dynamic writer by any means, indeed her style was almost flat, but we loved every page!

For years, people have asked me to write my life story, and I have made many starts... but never proceeded beyond a few chapters. I know how precious each person's life story is. Oh, how I love biographies.

Now, as I delve into the histories of my ancestors, I yearn to find ones who recorded their journeys along the paths of life, and I realize I really DO need to write my story. So do you. Your family and friends want to read it. Other folks you don't even know want to read it. I want to read it. So, write it already!

Where do you start? I have found it easy to put episodes from my life into my blog. It's unplanned, informal and nonthreatening. I never know what I will write in my blogs, I just get a thought and let it carry me along, hopefully to a reasonable conclusion (doesn't always work that way, LOL). Give it a try, what could it hurt?

You can click here here Blogger link, and be blogging in no time! You'll have a lot of fun, maybe meet some new folks and make everyone who loves you very happy... AND, you may become inspired enough to write that life story, one episode at a time. Write 'em as they come to mind. You can sort them out later.

I had a blessed day (didn't get a lot done, but enjoyed the day) hope you did, too!

What's Wrong With Wal-Mart?

Until we moved to California, I was not aware of any significant bad press about Wal-Mart, but here it seems the media goes out of its way to "dis" Sam Walton's dream empire. For example a recent story ran a headline that Wal-Mart was in trouble because it had not paid some levy on pesticides, but further down in the story, we learn that almost every CA retailer who sells these chemicals had the same problem. Why zero in on Wal-Mart?

On my recent trip, I visited my oldest son Norman who made the statement that Wal-Mart didn't pay its female employees as much as the males who did the same work. That's ridiculous! I worked at Wal-Mart in several different capacities and was paid the same wage as males with the same job and time in service, etc. Where do they get this stuff?

We went to Wal-Mart today to get my car serviced -- after my 4200 mile trip, it needed it! We also put two new tires on the car, got groceries and had my hair cut and colored... seemed like a good time to do that while the car was being tended to.

There were lines at the check stands -- not because there weren't enough cashiers, but because there were many, many customers. The reason for so many customers is low prices and good customer service, plain and simple! You see, the very same yogurt I usually buy for 78 cents is 48 cents at Wal-Mart... So, where do you think I want to shop?

Well, who doesn't like Wal-Mart? Unions, for one. Wal-Mart, in spite of what you've heard, pays a competitive wage, offers great benefits (including good affordable health insurance), and listens not only to its customers, but its associates as well. Wal-Mart workers don't need a union!

Competitors don't like Wal-Mart, either, and some have gone under because they could not or would not offer the prices and service found at the "big box" leader. This nation was built on free enterprise and yet I see more and more communities try to block Wal-Mart. Their actions do not truly serve their constituency. Wal-Mart provides good jobs and enables folks to buy more with every dollar, so what's the problem?

If you look at states where Wal-Mart was allowed to compete like any other store, you will clearly see that very few smaller enterprises went under, and of those who did, most would have floundered anyway.

I shop at Wal-Mart. I worked at Wal-Mart... as an entry level floor associate and as a member of the management team. I know whereof I speak, and I believe the media and the body politic are misled, misinformed or just plain dishonest when it comes to the retailing giant. Perhaps the size and success of the company scares them... or is it something else altogether?

Write what you want. People will continue to shop where they get a fair price and great customer service. People will continue to build good careers, and Wal-Mart will continue to grow... because the "masses" want it to. And I will continue to be a fan!

Leaving Slowly

1/13/06
Yesterday, cousin Geneva and I shared pancakes and memories with more distant cousins Bob Cooper and his wife Evelyn who have erected a lighted billboard in front of their blue and white "gingerbread house." Then I was off to see another cousin in a nursing home (broken hip) who is so full of joy you can't be down when she's around. I borrowed genealogy records and family histories from them. Pastor Rob got me restarted on this family background thing and now I'm hooked.

I got lost and ended up on a road going through Chadron, NE where my mother went to college, so took some time to poke around the campus a bit. I stopped in the Registrar's office and ordered Mama's transcript from the 1920's. Amazingly, they went right to it and provided me with a free copy. Seems, every student is entitled to one free copy and she had never needed one.

Mama's grades where what I expected. She excelled in the Humanities, but failed Chemistry and barely made it through her other science and math classes. The transcript opened a mystery, however. She had always said she went to college two years and left when she was 19 due to T.B. But according to her transcript, she didn't start college until she was 21 and she attended 7 semesters. Hmmmm, wonder what that's about. Investigating will be interesting!

1/14/06
I spent the day in Byres, CO with daughter Crystal and her family. Granddaughter Kaylah seems fine but has a brain tumor they haven't decided what to do with. Grandson Samuel got the cast off his arm. It was good to see them all. we talked and talked, played board games and enjoyed hanging out with each other.

1/16/06
Denver, CO is the home of our twin daughters and their families, and I spent a delightful day and a half with them before heading to LaJunta, CO the home of son Scott and family. But Scott isn't home right now; he's in jail... awaiting trial for murder. Julia pulled strings at the sheriff's office to get me in for an unscheduled visit.

Scott and another man are accused of pushing a third man out of a pickup Scott was driving. The man went under the right rear tire and died at the hospital. Scott didn't push the man out but he kept on driving after the man was hit. Until today, Scott has remained belligerent saying the man deserved to die because he was a child molester. Was he? No record of that.

We have been praying for Scott to see the enormity of the loss of life, no matter whose life... We pray he will come to the cross. Tonight, he was in tears. Two days ago, he was in a riot at the jail and was hit on the side of the head by another inmate. His ear was swollen and bloody. He hasn't eaten in four days and they have put him on suicide watch. He said he was reading his Bible and doing Daily Bread devotionals every morning, "but nothing is happening yet," he said, "Every thing is still the same."

We talked and prayed together for two hours, but I still don't think he understands. He seems to think if he does "good" things, God will somehow be pleased enough top get him out of jail! Right now I am praying that the Holy Spirit will open Scott's eyes to the truth and that he will come to Christ for real.

1/17/06
I drove and prayed for hours after leaving the jail. Then pulled onto a side street and slept in the car until morning. Later, I stopped in for a brief visit with my oldest living relative. She's 95, I think. Next stop Salt Lake City to visit oldest son Norman and family. Long drive, lots if snow and ice, but the visit is worth it.

1/20/06
We talked most of the night then I grabbed a nap on the couch before leaving Wednesday. It was snowing hard, and the roads were terrible. I finally stopped at an inexpensive motel in Winnemuca, NV. Roads were still bad when I left. Thankfully, I arrived safe and sound, held in the protective hands of my Lord.

I was exhausted when I got home. Too many days with too little sleep and a very poor diet. I ate mostly chips and yogurt. I slept in this morning, or tried to. My brother called early... from Florida where it is 3 hours later than CA. So tonight I will go into a coma until I wake up naturally.

Playing With Guns

After my Aunt Maymie's funeral, some of us gathered in a house they had rented for four days at $45 a night. Maymie's three surviving children were there and two grandchildren. As I said before, my family had lived with them for a time... they helped me figure out it was about 20 months... the longest my family ever lived in one spot until my junior year in high school.

We talked about old times and cousin Geneva reminded me that it was she and I who were defending the chicken house roof when I almost killed John. In fact she and I often were on the wrong side of good behavior, and when adults approached, she had an uncanny ability to just disappear. All at once, she was "outta there!" I'd be standing red-handed and alone. I never learned, though, and never blamed her for fleeing the scene. If anything, I admired her cunning.

John's daughter Vicki was shocked at some of our youthful activities. For example, we played cowboys and Indians with real rifles, not loaded, of course... well, except for once. God was surely with us because even though we'd usually grab the guns and start clicking away at one another, this day, John pulled the trigger without aiming at anyone. POP! The bullet slammed into the ground sending dirt (and kids) flying. A warning? If so, we didn't notice and continued our armed play often.

I have a scar across my left hand. Frank had an axe and I a pitchfork, and we were going at it with gusto and an audience. It was sort of a modified sword fight. He swung hard catching my hand in mid air with only the corner of his weapon (else I would now be a one-handed woman). Aunt Maymie sewed me back together and sent us all back out to play. No doubt had I not so carefully kept my wounded knee a secret (see yesterday's blog) Aunt Maymie would have sewn it up, too. But, afraid someone would know of my grain diving crimes, I kept the knee bandaged in old rags for a long time. It oozed blood and serum for days. Oh yes, I was told the piece of metal was kept in the grain to use with the auger. Who knew?

Uncle Snide drank (a LOT) and my dad didn't, but Daddy loved to hang out in bars. He often took me with him all through my childhood until I entered adolescence... but that's another story. We'd all go in to town on Saturdays. Uncle Snide and Daddy would be in the bar until it closed or later. Snide liked to fight; Daddy liked to watch; they both loved to entertain the troops as it were. As kids, we were happy to roam all over town until we were tired or cold, then go to the bar and hang out in a booth or fall asleep on the floor until the men were ready to leave. At that time and in that place, no one thought anything of it.

We had few "real" toys. John reminded us of the bicycle with no tires or pedals. You simply drug it up to the high point in the yard, hopped on with legs sticking out sideways and tried to ride it to the bottom. He and Geneva were good at it. I never made it the whole way. We played with old tires, using dirt for gas. If you ran out of gas, you had to drag, not roll, your tire to the gas station. Cousin Dorothy was the gas attendant but it was strictly self-serve. She didn't like getting dirty and never "drove' the dirt tires anywhere. Even in winter, we were outdoors most of the time and having a blast. We worked, and worked hard, but we played all through it. Toys? We had more fun than 20 kids with toys.

Some of the play was a problem, though. When he was younger (before we were there) Frank was using the tractor for a toy horse, and a hammer for as rider's crop (whip). But he was banging on the front of the tractor to make it go... I can't picture it either. Well, he was a strapping youngster and soon knocked a hole in the radiator. Uncle Snide was furious! As John says, "He beat the heck out of Frank every time he saw him. Mom finally hid him for a while."

There's no doubt we came from disfunctional families. Uncle Snide regularly let fly at his dogs with buckshot. He killed a horse that angered him... his favorite horse... and refused to move or dispose of the carcass. He chased me all over the yard and around the barn with the tractor, and when he was angry (and could catch you) he would whip you on and off all day long for whatever you did to anger him. If you were able to keep out of sight, however, he would forget all about it by supper time.

My dad was not violent, but where ever we lived, I never knew when he would wake us all up to pack what we could into the car. We were moving... NOW! We often had less than an hour to get gone. I attended over 50 schools. Sometimes we were squatters and there were times we lived in our car. Other times, we lived in luxury... even lived next door to Alan Ladd for a time (short time). Daddy loved people but had no second thought about skipping out on bills or pulling a con on a company. He even involved me in several of his cons. (AWAT) He "highgraded" gold from the mines he worked in from time to time. My mother found quite a bit of it going through his things after he died. She hid it in his coffin before the funeral. Who says you can't take it with you? LOL.

Mama was agorophobic. Afraid to go out in public. She did make it to part of my high school graduation. I was thrilled! She worried about everything and was bedridden most of the time. She never disciplined us. She cried if we misbehaved. And prayed. She was one of the strongest and most fragile persons I have ever known. (AWAT) More about her in another blog.

Bottom line is the children of the Snider men lived in very unusual and perhaps socially unacceptable households. Besides Uncle Snide and my dad (Ed) there was another Snider brother... Jim. Depending on who you believe, Jim either shot himself or was murdered in the corner booth of a Leadville, CO bar. His wife never remarried and raised their only daughter in a rather normal fashion.

So, all things considered, we Snider kids could have been shaking our heads and feeling pretty abused as we reviewed our pasts together, but instead the room was filled with fun and laughter... and not one of us would trade our childhoods or our parents for more painless, sedate and sensible ones.

None of us hate or blame our parents, either. Our folks made some BIG mistakes, but they are the folks God chose to place us with, and we love them, warts and all. We are who we are today in part because of how we were raised, the good and not-so-good times, the parents who, though far from perfect, gave use life, what love they could and sent us out into the world stronger for it.

I am so thankful for this wonderful day of sharing hugs, memories and love with my kinfolk. Tomorrow, cousin Geneva and I are going to spend some time with cousins twice removed and a generation older than we are. They have precious memories we need to hear, sweet necks we need to hug and some wonderful pancakes we need to eat.

Dateline: Faulkton, S.D.

The call came Sunday morning before church. My cousin Frank telling me his mother had just passed away. Maymie Seward Snider, who was the last of my parent's generation, died peacefully in her sleep after more than 90 years on earth.

Just three months before, I had been to South Dakota for the funeral of Aunt Maymie's daughter Dorothy. Then, as now, I had hastily packed, sent a few e-mails and was on my way... except this time, I waited until after the church board meeting. An issue I feel is very important was to be decided, or at least discussed... or so I thought. But that was not the case, so I am continuing in prayer that God's house will be available to those who need a place to preach God's Word to a group of people needing to hear it in their own language.

So, again, I am in a South Dakota motel room. Faulkton is a tiny town located near the center of the state. Long ago my parents, brother and I lived on a ranch near here for a time with my Uncle Snide, Aunt Maymie and their five children. I have lots of good memories of that time... and a few not so good ones.

We all worked hard, but we did a lot of playing and one of my favorite games was to dive from the upper level of the barn down into the grain bins. Now the grains were all in bunker-like compartments divided by wood and some corrugated metal. I loved diving down into the wheat, rolling in it, burying myself in it. Needless to say, this was s strictly forbidden activity! One fateful day as I and some of my cousins were grain diving, the grain became crimson and sticky with blood. I still have a large scar above my left knee to remind me of a scrap of corrugated metal down in the grain!

Funny, at the time, my main concern was hiding the evidence. I was trying to bury the bloody grain but was bleeding faster than I could cover it up. Finally, I got out of the bin and let the other kids bury the bloody grain. I am not sure, but I think one of the others was also cut on another grain diving day... Quick learners, we weren't!

Another time, deep in a winter storm, we were gathered around the stove in the living room of the "big house." I got in a fight with one of my cousins (I think it was Frank, but am not sure) and I shoved him hard. Uncle Snide put me out the door to "cool off." I had no coat on and the icy winds seemed to cut right through me. Then, here came Aunt Maymie who brought me back in the back door and sent me up the back stairs.

It's good to see my cousins and other family again. I almost killed my cousin John when we were kids. Some of us were on top of one of the ranch buildings armed with rocks, coal and other missiles. We were the defenders. The invaders were assailing our position with their own weapons of war. Normally, I can't throw at all... although there is force in my pitch, there is no control. We were not actually throwing to hit one another anyway... merely lobbing off rounds to keep the attackers at bay. Somehow, one of my lobs, a good sized piece of coal, I believe, hit John in the head. Down he went, blood all over the place!

Kids ran screaming. Adults came running. They swooped John up and sped away with him in the pickup. I was still on the roof, frozen with fear that I had killed him. The sense of guilt was overwhelming. I had heard my mother speak of Jesus all my life and been to church often, but had no real understanding of what the Cross really meant at that time. But I never forgot how desperate was my need to make the whole event "go away."

You see, unlike the grain diving episode, it wasn't the consequences I was concerned about. There was no thought about what would happen to me. The torment was knowing I had done something horrid. I wanted to undo it. So pervasive was my guilt that I relive it even now as I write this. It was a good lesson because when the time was right for my eyes to be opened to the Cross of Christ, I already knew how desperately I needed a savior and how heavy guilt can be. When I came to Christ, the elation was that much more intense. Each time I see my tall, slim cousin John with his gentle smile and easy going ways, I am reminded that it is by grace alone I did not kill him... and it is by that same grace I no longer bear any guilt for my foolish behavior that put his life at risk.

We gathered at the funeral home for "the viewing" this evening. Aunt Maymie looked better than the last time I saw her. Of course, she isn't really there. I believe she is with Jesus. You may recall that on my last trip here, when I prayed, she opened her eyes and attended with great interest even though she had been unresponsive for about two years!

It's late and I have only had a few naps since I woke up Sunday morning... and the funeral is tomorrow. Please pray that unsaved members of our family and yours will respond to the Gospel.

Brain Workout

No blog yesterday. I knew by early evening there wouldn't be enough cognitive energy to form a coherent thought, let alone get it from cranium to keyboard. Virtually every waking hour of my Friday was consumed in one way or another with legal matters. I spent my morning gathering paperwork to take to the attorney, then we drove around picking up medical records and finally landed at the lawyer's office at the prescribed time, not a minute too soon.

Finally, someone who knew was telling us how Workmen's Comp works... or should I say does NOT work. I lost track of most of the conversation, but Richard reviewed it with me several times since, and I am beginning to think that the hastily written law is highly inequitable. I am not yet sure how it all applies to me, but at least now I can let my attorney deal with which papers to sign and what to do when treatment is denied, etc.

Our meeting yesterday was interesting in that he was checking to see if he wanted to take on my case, and we were checking to see if we wanted to retain him. Truth is, we already knew we wanted him based on what people we know and respect had said about him. He is good, aggressive, creative and honest... in fact more than one told us he is the best there is for this type of case.

So, I wondered what we would do if he refused to represent me. I had resisted going to a lawyer all along and now I was afraid the lawyer wouldn't want the case... How silly is that? At first, everything with the insurance people was fine. They treated me well as far as I knew and if I had any complaint at all it was not against them... But in time and after having my case worker changed time and again with no one telling me about it, and having two case workers out and out lie to me, I opted to check out how it all is supposed to work. I got no real answers from anyone and the material on the website is so confusing even Richard cannot figure it out... so off to the lawyer we went.

Keeping track of the conversation with my new lawyer was impossible for me. He was easy to hear, though. I could hear, just couldn't process it all. I made sure to look straight at him and nod a lot so he would know I was paying attention (or at least trying to). He was very witty and quick. I enjoyed him but would have really had a blast with him in the "old days" before TBI. We had quite a discussion on Wal-Mart. I love Wal-Mart and am quite vocal about that. He is not a Wal-Mart fan... and he's vocal about that. But I like him and respect him. I have added him to my prayer list.

Now, it is Saturday and although bone tired last night, I have slept only three hours. It wasn't worry, just couldn't turn off my brain. I need to do some web work today... and this is a good day for it. Richard is at work and all the pets (who stayed up with me last night) are asleep.

Time to get busy... See you on line or in church tomorrow.

Short Post

The day has been full and wonderful. Our oldest daughter arrived before sunup and we've had a great visit. Out Thursday morning meeting with the Women of Grace was a blessing. Several were out sick and are in our prayers.... all said this is a short post. Will have more time and energy tomorrow, God willing.

It's Wednesday Again!

Last night I was lamenting that I had forgotten it was Wednesday and thus had missed Bible Study, but this morning I discovered that today is Wednesday, so we were blessed to attend our mid-week "small group" Bible Study.

It was an interesting day for me. Aside from being my own second Wednesday of the week, it was a day that sped by leaving me wondering where it went. Richard worked the early shift and when he got home around noon we went to town to run some errands.

One stop was at Target where I saw someone I recognized. I went up to her and greeted her, "Hi, Tina!" She turned toward me, a puzzled look on her face, then realizing it was me, said, "Hello, Iona, how've you been?" We chatted a few minutes (I can't recall what about) and I told her I still had her game and would send it right out to her. I also told her I had to break down and make an appointment with a lawyer and noted how disappointed I was that the insurance company had refused further therapy. She didn't seem to know how to respond. I decided she might be in a hurry to do something or go somewhere so bid her a cheery farewell and headed to the checkouts.

"That was Tina my therapist,"I said to Richard. I was curious why he had walked off without speaking to her. "I don't think that was Tina," he said. Then as we walked to the parking lot it dawned on me that indeed, this was NOT Tina, but a co-worker from Wal-Mart! No wonder she looked puzzled when I called her by the wrong name and spoke of things she knew nothing about.

That's sort of how the whole day went for me. I completely lost track of things and did not get anything done... but it was nice to have another Wednesday and make it to Bible Study tonight. Tomorrow will be my first Thursday and my daughter will be here then, plus I will again meet with the wonderful Women of Grace Thursday morning Bible study.

Bad Hair Day

Those who know me personally realize I am not overly fussy about hair and makeup, etc. but like to look well kempt. I try to coordinate my outfits and basically be presentable when I go out of the house. I like to wear jewelry and indeed once was a jeweler, so I usually wear appropriate jewelry for the occasion and my outfit. Like many of my generation, I always dress nicely to go to the doctor.

I went to the doctor today and had to stop in at my other doctor's office as well. I was well dressed enough and thought all was fine until I got home and happened to see myself in the bathroom mirror. Not only did I have no jewelry or lipstick on, I had not combed my hair! After I shower, I rub in some kind of styling gel then style and blow dry or just flip curls and let it dry naturally before I brush it out. Somehow I must have gotten distracted because I had a look that would do any punk rocker proud. My hair was a tangled, spiky mess!

Of course, no one whispered in my ear that I needed to comb my hair. I have good friends who would have reminded me, but most of society would have been too "polite" to let me know my coiffure was insanely bad. If I had encountered one, a young child might have been open and innocent enough to ask if I had forgotten to fix my hair.

Most folks are afraid they might offend by commenting on appearances,.. and often that is true.
Pastor Rob would probably have said something, though. He is so openly loving and so warm and genuine, people just naturally know there is no guile in his words. We could use a lot more folks like that.

Richard Simmons didn't mind my hair. He and I spent a full half hour Sweatin' to the Oldies together. I was truly winded when we finished, so something good must be happening there. As for my other resolutions, most are still on, but today I did not spend an hour in structured Bible study, plus Richard got home late and I forgot it was Wednesday so we missed Bible Study... bummer.

I did finish updating all the archived Handmaidens pages and have part of a new issue of the webzine completed as well. I can't believe it has been almost five years since I published the webzine. This will be the "come back" issue, I guess. I even have a new staff writer, Marsha Jordan of http://hugsandhope.org and will be talking to some others about becoming Handmaidens staff writers. I am also encouraging others to contribute articles, poetry, etc. on a freelance basis. If interested, visit the Handmaidens site and poke around, then send a sample of your work to iona@handmaidens.org

My friend Eva got a telemarketer's call on her cell phone the other night. That can be SO annoying! Here's how to stop it; go to http://donotcall.gov/ which is the National Do Not Call Registry. There you will see instructions on how to stop the callers for good.

I am so excited. My daughter Stephanie is coming tomorrow! I don't know what time, but I'll be here all day. She's the one who is studying Chinese at Monterey. I want to be "all there" when she comes so better wrap this up and get a good night's sleep.

Sweatin' Into Day Three

I didn't post a blog last night but except for that have actually kept my resolutions... all of 2 days. I am thankful for God's help with that.

Richard Simmons and I did the "Sweatin' to the Oldies 2" dance without mishap. I carefully moved the coffee table out of the way first. The dogs and my Richard gathered around to watch. Sure wish Dick Clark could have joined us but I understand he was otherwise occupied.

I used my Magic Bullet to make a healthy drink of banana, grapes, mango and orange juice... very tasty, but looks bad, real bad. Richard would not even taste it.

Finally, last night I finished revamping all of the Handmaidens archives. Tonight I will work on the new January, 2006 issue, a rebirth after five years!

But for now I must leave for a doctor's appointment. Please do me a favor today: Whether you know them or not, say a prayer for Jim and Doris who are very ill.

Talk with you later.

Permission to Fail

We attended the early service as usual and I was especially touched by the enormity of Christ's sacrifice for me and my own utter unworthiness of the free gift, salvation. I am thankful that we are absolutely unable to repay Him, for if it were remotely possible, I would spend untold effort to do so only to fail miserably... and if it were, there would be no grace! Praise God for grace!

Walking under grace, we walk in freedom. That makes it easier to set goals, make resolutions... for should we stumble or fail, we are not undone. Romans 8:1 "Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus..."

We have permission to fail and that gives us freedom to try. God sees and knows our hearts, and He is in control. Thank about that a moment. While we are NOT given permission to sin, we ARE encouraged to venture toward horizons we would dare not approach if we would be left twisting in the wind at every misstep.

But I want to take my resolutions seriously. I don't make them lightly... here they are:

1. I will keep my heart, mind and spirit stayed on the Lord by talking with Him throughout my day.

2. I will spend an hour or more in the scriptures every day in structured study as well as short readings whenever I have some spare minutes or am "taking a break."

3. I will spend some time in exercise at least five days a week, working my way up to 30 minutes each time.

4. I will cut at least 300 calories a day from my present diet, aiming at losing 20 pounds this year.

5. Once a day I will check e-mail and reply to all personal notes as I read the mail.

6. I will rebuild Handmaidens and publish the webzine monthly.

7. I will spend some time each day on digital art.

8. I will write my blog daily and at least one article, chapter, essay or poem each day.

9. I will do our books and review our finances every two weeks. We will pay off all credit card debt this year.

10. I will write my family and special friends at least once a week, either in e-mail or snail mail.

11. I will USE MY PLANNER every day and check it often.

12. I will finish at least one chapter of my book each month.

13. I will get at least one piece of artwork online each month.

14. I will do something special for my honey every day.

15. I will reserve some time each day just for me... a long bubble bath, sitting on the porch, watching my fish... just doing nothing.

So, I have fifteen goals to work toward. I will let you know how I am doing... total transparency.