When I was very young, about five or six, I remember my Dad playing this game with me. He would tell me to pretend that I was being filmed for television and I could only say hello to one person. To whom would I choose to say hello? Obviously, he was messing with the psyche of a young child and trying to get her to choose Mom or Dad. (This was all in fun, mind you. I assure you I carry no deep psychological scars from being presented with this dilemma). I would come up with all different sorts of answers where I would acknowledge one and send a signal to the other or I would very quickly say, "Hi Mom and Dad!" but he wouldn't let me get away with any of those options. I had to choose one of them. Needless to say, I never could choose one over the other. I think I decided I would rather not say hello to either one as opposed to the heart wrenching choice of preferring one over the other.
As I have been thinking about what to post about next on my blog, my brother keeps coming to my mind. I have a lot of people in my life who I love and adore, and hopefully, a handful who love me right back. I could write about any number of people but that brings me back to the dilemma of choosing one person over another. My solution is to write about my brother. In writing about him I feel like I'm still paying respect to my parents as he and I are very much a product of the two of them--both the good and the bad. So, Dad, it turns out that I'm going to choose to say hello to Rob. I know it's only for the benefit of my tens of readers and not to all of Searcy, AR but it's the thought that counts.
What feels so odd to me is that a lot of the people who are currently part of my every day life have never met my brother and likely might not even know I have a brother. I do. I have only one sibling and he's my older brother, Rob. He's going to be 43 in December which seems really hard to believe. We don't see each other very often because I live in St. Louis and he lives in Springfield next door to my parents--"Everybody Loves Raymond" style--although they tell me their lives don't really mirror the TV show. We don't even talk very often. We do e-mail on occasion and that's probably the most common way we stay in contact. I didn't even know he read my blog until my Mom told me that he has it as one of his Favorites for web sites. Awwww.
Rob and I do not have a glowing history as loving siblings growing up--caring for each other, protecting each other, giving lots of hugs and smiles, sharing willingly with each other. No, we had none of that. We fought...a lot. I mean pretty much 24/7 we were fighting with each other. I think our parents were ready to ship us away to reform school at times. I don't exactly remember when that phase of our relationship started but I think it was when we moved from Searcy, AR to Springfield when he was eleven and I was six years old. I look back on that time, knowing that it was one of the most difficult--in so many ways--events my parents have been through and I can see, with my adult eyes, how challenging it must have been for my brother. He went from living in the country on a gravel road to living in town. He left all his friends behind along with the only life he had ever known. He was basically stuck with a younger, bratty sister who didn't try at all to realize that this might be more difficult for him than it was for me. We were horrible to one another. I know I got under his skin and when we were at home together it was not good. I remember one particularly dark day when he was being quite a stinker to me and I was trying to call my Mom at work to tell on him. These were the days before cordless phones. Several times he let me get to the last number I was dialing and then he would hang up the phone. I think he let me actually get to the operator once but he disconnected the phone right as I was believing I was going to actually get through to my Mom.
That type of relationship was what we had for many years. Maybe it's not so uncommon for siblings to fight with each other, but in mind those were some really rough years. As we grew up and he was in high school we basically chose to not have much to do with each other. I don't recall having much of a relationship at all but we started sharing friends later on and things got a little better. In my mind, the real turning point was the summer I turned 19. I was home from school and he was still living with my parents. He had experienced a pretty bad break-up and I became the shoulder he could cry on. He hung out with me and my friends and even went along one time on what I remember was supposed to be a date. I also remember he and I eating at the Sub Shop together that summer when a guy I had dated once walked in. There was a reason it was only one date. I got Rob to pretend he was my date so that the guy would go away.
I don't know if Rob will remember that summer as significant or as some turning point in his life or our relationship but, looking back now, it seems significant to me. After that, we became actual friends. I left to go to college in Tulsa that next fall for my sophomore year and when I moved back again for my senior year, Rob was the one who took me back to school. He moved all my stuff in for me and I remember before he left to go home we sat in his car and he held my hand and prayed for me. I knew at that moment that all of my parents' prayers for us were being answered. I was assured that not only were Rob and I on the right track in our relationship as brother and sister but I saw a sincerity and a dedication to God that I knew would not be easily swayed.
That moment was 17 years ago and it's hard to see my brother as the same person that used to torment me. I look at him now and I see one of the most honest, honorable, humble, kind, gentle, generous people I've ever met. Even if he wasn't my brother I know I would see him that way. He loves his wife and his daughter and he is highly respected in his job. The mere fact that I'm writing all of these things about him on my blog and focusing on him will probably be difficult for him to read.
I think, to this day, that my husband isn't sure how my brother feels about him. It seems really important to Lindy for my brother to like him because Rob is all the things I just shared. Looking back, it was probably a mistake to tell Lindy what Rob said about him when we first started dating. Rob said he was a "pretty boy." Granted Lindy is "pretty" but I know he wants to be more than that in his brother-in-law's eyes. My mother had much of the same to say about Lindy when I first brought him home to meet my family. I think her exact words were, "That Lindy is too good looking. He's going to be trouble." Mom, trouble he was, but it was our mutual stubbornness that took us five years to actually walk down the aisle. I could write a book about how wonderful my husband is, but remember, I chose Rob.
There are so many examples I could share to highlight my brother's true character but that would make for a book, not a blog. I'll try to pick just a couple. I recall a particular Christmas before either of us were married. It might have been the last trip that our family of four went to south Louisiana for Christmas to be with my Mom's family. (That was pretty much how we spent every Christmas--in shorts and eating shrimp and crawfish). Before we left town my brother wanted Dad to stop by his work because there was someone he knew who had several children and not much money to give them Christmas gifts. My brother had some cash in an envelope that he was going to leave anonymously for his friend. I'm sure he wouldn't have even told us that much but he had to convince my Dad to stop by his work. He exercises that kind of generosity and selflessness to this day. I have no idea if any of Rob's friends know anything about my blog but I'm sure there would be many, many accounts of examples just like this. I know he gets this aspect of his character from my Dad because Dad "stalks" people at the grocery store during Thanksgiving and Christmas. He goes to the not-so-nice section of town and looks for people who might not have enough money to spend on groceries. Then, he goes to the manager and offers to pay for their groceries anonymously. His technique has changed over the years because some people have actually gotten offended by his efforts. He's still out there trying to help everyone he can.
About a month ago I went to Springfield for the funeral of my brother's father-in-law. I didn't know Ken very well, but I felt the need to go to support my brother and sister-in-law because I love them and care about them. Before the funeral started, Rob said he was going to be getting up to talk and he was concerned he couldn't do it. I know he's not much for public speaking but his apprehension had to do with his fear of getting emotional and not being able to get through what he had to say. You see, my brother saw the positives in Ken and he wanted to convey what an impact Ken had made on his life. He wasn't able to get through it without breaking down, and my parents and I sat there completely touched by this man that has his own family yet is still a part of us. My Dad is the only one of us who can really express how he is feeling without crying. I blubbered like a big baby at my brother's wedding rehearsal when I tried to get up and say all that he means to me and I did the same thing at my Dad's retirement dinner. For not being a crier I really shed a lot of tears when it comes to taking down those guards around my heart and expressing how I really feel about those I love most.
After the funeral, my parents and I were waiting in the car to leave for the cemetery and we were discussing what Rob had shared. Most of Ken's children had also spoken along with others, but naturally, we were most touched by the words of the one who shares our DNA. My Dad really hit the nail on the head when he said, "You know, your brother is a man without guile." I knew exactly what he meant because I had a student teacher in 5th grade whose name was Ms. Guile and she taught us the definition of that word. It's not a word commonly used to describe people, or to describe the behavior they don't display. Maybe that's because there aren't a lot of people out there who are completely without guile. Guile means "crafty or artful deception" or "duplicity." My Dad put into one word what I already knew about my brother.
One thing I have learned from him--or maybe we both learned it from our parents--is to always give people the benefit of the doubt. If you talked to my brother you would never hear a critical or unkind word about anyone. He will always take up for people and give them the benefit of the doubt, even to his own detriment. That practice has served me well in my personal and professional life. I always assume the best of people and I feel like it's enabled me to get along with just about everyone I meet. My brother is the same way. We treat people as if they have no devious or ulterior motives. If we get hurt, so be it; but it's better than living your life always being suspicious, expecting the worst in people, or expecting to get hurt.
My brother is wonderful in all the ways in which it's important to be wonderful. He's not much for team sports. I think when he played t-ball and soccer as a young child he spent more time chasing bugs or butterflies than he did focusing on the game. He's smart in ways I am not. He's completely mechanical and understands the way things work. I completely missed that gene. It was only two years ago when Lindy went to Israel that I learned how to successfully plunge the toilet. It seems that I always had my brother or my Dad around to understand how things work and now I have Lindy or his mother. Lord, help me if I ever have to fend for myself. When we were both living at home Rob was taking a refrigeration class. I used to tease him after every class about whether they had taught him why that light comes on every time you open the door. Clearly, I know nothing about refrigeration. On those tests they make you take in school where you have to look at a pattern and then pick out which object it would be if you folded it up, Rob excelled. I could never wrap my brain around that kind of thing.
Rob doesn't really like to spend his time reading. I gave him a book last Christmas which was an interesting gift choice for him, but I really wanted him to read it. Recently he told me he had almost finished it and, honestly, I was surprised he ever opened it. We are both very even-keeled, not a lot of highs and lows. You pretty much get the same person every day with us. I think that has served us well too. Rob is extremely adventurous, whereas I am not. He's done some crazy things and is pretty much fearless. He and my Dad are people who always have to have some sort of big project. I've never known either one of them to "exercise" because they've never been people who sit still too much. Why exercise when you are active all the time in just the way you live your life? I think that's the French in them because French people think Americans are crazy for all their organized work-outs.
All in all, my brother is the one I choose to highlight on my blog. He's also one that I would choose if I needed a steadfast friend, someone I know I can trust to a fault, and a man of God who lives out his life with the utmost integrity. I'm blessed because he's a part of me and I hope I have, in some small way, turned out to be someone that makes him proud. It wasn't an accident that he turned out to be this man. We have wonderful parents who have made it all appear easy to follow our convictions. Rob, we are blessed (and not in the generic way this word is most often used) and I am a better person for having you in my life.
Summer 2012
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Saturday, October 16, 2010
My Current Quandry...and the Week in the Life of a Mom of Three Boys
Just in case my tens of followers thought with my last post I had left behind my witty side--fear not, I'm back. Lindy greatly prefers my serious, larger purpose posts but I just tell him that I'm a multi-faceted person. I can't be limited to just one type of blog post.
So, here's my current quandry...I cannot seem to pare down the number of lip colors I'm carrying in my purse. I tried yesterday and most of you will probably think I'm a little whacky but I could only pull one lip gloss out of the rotation. I like to have a variety of lipsticks, glosses, balms, etc. so that I can match whatever I'm wearing and I have fun mixing it up and trying different ones together. I know, I know if the whole world had problems as big as this this one we would be in quite a fix. Here's what I'm carrying around currently in no particular order:
Bare Minerals lip gloss in Jelly Roll
Merle Norman Berry Kiss double-ended lip pencil
Avon Glazewear Sparkle lip gloss
Avon Glazewear Shine lip gloss
Bare Escentuals Buxom Lips in Candi
Mary Kay lip gloss in Pink Pearl
Bare Minerals lip pencil in Shell
Burt's Bees Beeswax Lip Balm
Avon Glazewear Intense lip gloss
Mary Kay lip gloss in Frosted Rose
Bare Minerals lip gloss in Sugar Plum
Bare Escentual lipstick in Berry Cordial
That's all. Really, is that too many? How many is too many? My favorite one is the double-ended lip pencil from Merle Norman, but I have to keep it sharpened so when I'm lazy and don't sharpen it I use other colors. I like it so much that I bought one for my Mom and she loves it too. I was at a meeting in Fort Worth last spring and the girl who sat across from me all day had one question for me before she left for the day. She had to know what lip color I was wearing and it was the Merle Norman lip pencil. She stood right there and typed it in her iPhone so she could find it later--and she had never even heard of Merle Norman. Never heard of Merle Norman?? What planet has she been living on? Merle Norman is old school and she was my age. I think she was from Georgia.
Also, depending on what I'm wearing I need to have all of these so that I can have the right color and the right texture--matte, glossy, shiny. You know what I mean. This issue kind of reminds me of when I was little and I didn't want to ever leave one of my dolls out of the play rotation because I couldn't bear the idea that one of them might feel left out. I'm not looking for suggestions or help because, honestly, I believe I'm beyond help. Just letting you in on what's in my purse and what's on my mind.
On a completely different topic, here's a look--not into my purse--but into a Week in the Life of a Mom of Three Boys. This will actually focus on the two younger boys. Jac's had a pretty uneventful week. So, Ethan had one of his front teeth that was loose for at least a couple months. He had been wiggling it and working it with no success. A couple weeks ago he went to the dentist for his regular check-up and the dentist told him that if he didn't have that thing out in a week then she was going to pull it for him. Nothing like putting the fear of God--or the dentist--into an 8-year-old to get him motivated to pull his tooth. He was eating apples, wiggling it, his Dad was using a towel, wet paper towel, pliers...you name it, they tried it. No success until last Saturday morning. Lindy finally got it out. The permanent one had already poked through the gum so it was definitely time. That day was a great family day and we went to Forest Park and the Omnimax. Guess who, or what, came along with us? That's right. Ethan's tooth was along for the ride. In actuality, the tooth had a front row seat in my cup holder. I know, yuck. I didn't put it there. One thing you must know about Ethan to appreciate this story is that he is very sentimental. It's like pulling teeth to get him to part with anything. Pun intended. The next morning I was ironing the boys' clothes for church and Ethan and I were chatting. I asked him why he didn't put his tooth under his pillow for the tooth fairy and he didn't really have a good answer. I could tell he was having some issues parting with this tooth that served him well for eight--well, really, seven years. (Ethan didn't get his first tooth until he was nine months and his second tooth when he was 12 months. We honestly doubted whether the kid would have all of his teeth before he went to Kindergarten).
Given Ethan's penchant for keeping things I knew what was required in this situation. So...we had a little "goodbye" moment for his tooth. Not a funeral, mind you, we're not weird after all--just a little parting ceremony. Ethan and I thanked the tooth for being so nice and straight and white. We thanked his tooth for helping Ethan all these years with his biting and chewing and we said goodbye. Goodbye to the tooth. That night he put it under pillow and the tooth fairy brought him a dollar. He was hoping for more because it was his third lost tooth, after all. I'm not sure what the going rate is in today's economy but I think the tooth fairy thought a dollar was sufficient. Now the tooth is in tooth heaven with Ethan's two other teeth and an abundance of Jac's knocked out and regular teeth.
On the Gavin front, we had an unexpected trip to the ER this week. Now, going to the ER is not a regular occurrence for the Carnetts. Jac's only been once when he was about a year old and had bronchitis. I still get flak for that one for driving 90 mph to get him to Children's Hospital. I know, not my most brilliant moment. Ethan's been once--for 6 or 8 stitches a couple years ago. This was Gavin's second time. The first time he was about 9 months and just had a viral infection but his temp was 104 and he was having retractions. Scary!! So, this 4 1/2 year old who's never even required an antibiotic in his life had his second trip to the ER on Wednesday night.
I was teaching his Rainbows class at church. I have to pause here and say that I'm really glad I was the teacher that night and that it was my kid that got hurt. I had three little boys in class and they were playing musical chairs. Gavin wiped out and hit his head on a metal folding chair--which wasn't even in play for the game!! So, big gash, blood pouring down his face, my mother-in-law helping me to get the bleeding stopped because I had already lowered myself to the floor. I told myself it was so I could be closer to his level but I think it was really so I would be closer to the floor in case I passed out. I know, I know. I'm a registered nurse and I have a real issue with blood and seeing people in pain. Don't worry. I sit behind a desk, people. I'm not out there actually taking care of patients.
Since it was hard to tell with all the bleeding whether it needed stitches, off I went to the ER with Gavin. Lindy was speaking in the main service, and church must go on, so he met us there later. (I do think if one of our children poked out an eye or was missing a limb he would leave church to go to the ER. As it was, my mother-in-law broke the news to him after church). On the way to the ER Gavin was talking a little, mainly saying that he didn't want to go to the hospital, but talking nonetheless. By the time we got there he suddenly clammed up and didn't hardly utter a word or shed a tear. Every question that was asked by the nurses or the doctor would result him in pointing at me to answer the question. He was still wearing his Rainbows vest which resulted in a lot of comments from all of the ER staff but he was having none of it. He just stared straight ahead and avoided eye contact at all cost. He turned down popsicles, a teddy bear--even chocolate. I was beginning to wonder if his head injury was more serious than originally thought since he was turning down chocolate. But, alas, in the final analysis he didn't even need stitches or glue. I have to admit I was a little disappointed in my assessment skills but it's seriously hard to tell sometimes whether stitches are needed. Right? Lindy and I were showing Gavin all the scars he and I sustained when we were kids and I can guarantee you that neither of our parents ever took us to the ER to be checked out. Seriously. We left with some antibiotic ointment and a bandaid. Better to be safe than sorry, right? I'm telling myself that, but then I haven't gotten the bill yet.
In the end, Gavin did get his voice back long enough to leave with a popsicle from the doctor, long enough to tell me twice that he was NOT going to ride in the wheelchair sitting outside his room, and long enough to tell his Dad he wanted Buzz Lightyear as his special prize. I saw that one coming. Lindy told him he would take him to Wal-Mart and let him pick out a toy. He had one word, "Buzz." He's been eyeing Buzz ever since he saw "Toy Story 3." I've told him repeatedly that this was a Christmas or birthday type of toy since it it's $35.00. By the way, he didn't get Buzz. Lindy came to his senses by the time they made their trip to Wal-Mart.
On Thursday, Gavin didn't want to leave the house because he said his head was "broke." He's fine now and I've sufficiently recovered from the trauma myself. Selfishly, I hate seeing him hurt but it sure was nice for him to need his Mama for a couple hours.
Just a week in the life....
So, here's my current quandry...I cannot seem to pare down the number of lip colors I'm carrying in my purse. I tried yesterday and most of you will probably think I'm a little whacky but I could only pull one lip gloss out of the rotation. I like to have a variety of lipsticks, glosses, balms, etc. so that I can match whatever I'm wearing and I have fun mixing it up and trying different ones together. I know, I know if the whole world had problems as big as this this one we would be in quite a fix. Here's what I'm carrying around currently in no particular order:
Bare Minerals lip gloss in Jelly Roll
Merle Norman Berry Kiss double-ended lip pencil
Avon Glazewear Sparkle lip gloss
Avon Glazewear Shine lip gloss
Bare Escentuals Buxom Lips in Candi
Mary Kay lip gloss in Pink Pearl
Bare Minerals lip pencil in Shell
Burt's Bees Beeswax Lip Balm
Avon Glazewear Intense lip gloss
Mary Kay lip gloss in Frosted Rose
Bare Minerals lip gloss in Sugar Plum
Bare Escentual lipstick in Berry Cordial
That's all. Really, is that too many? How many is too many? My favorite one is the double-ended lip pencil from Merle Norman, but I have to keep it sharpened so when I'm lazy and don't sharpen it I use other colors. I like it so much that I bought one for my Mom and she loves it too. I was at a meeting in Fort Worth last spring and the girl who sat across from me all day had one question for me before she left for the day. She had to know what lip color I was wearing and it was the Merle Norman lip pencil. She stood right there and typed it in her iPhone so she could find it later--and she had never even heard of Merle Norman. Never heard of Merle Norman?? What planet has she been living on? Merle Norman is old school and she was my age. I think she was from Georgia.
Also, depending on what I'm wearing I need to have all of these so that I can have the right color and the right texture--matte, glossy, shiny. You know what I mean. This issue kind of reminds me of when I was little and I didn't want to ever leave one of my dolls out of the play rotation because I couldn't bear the idea that one of them might feel left out. I'm not looking for suggestions or help because, honestly, I believe I'm beyond help. Just letting you in on what's in my purse and what's on my mind.
On a completely different topic, here's a look--not into my purse--but into a Week in the Life of a Mom of Three Boys. This will actually focus on the two younger boys. Jac's had a pretty uneventful week. So, Ethan had one of his front teeth that was loose for at least a couple months. He had been wiggling it and working it with no success. A couple weeks ago he went to the dentist for his regular check-up and the dentist told him that if he didn't have that thing out in a week then she was going to pull it for him. Nothing like putting the fear of God--or the dentist--into an 8-year-old to get him motivated to pull his tooth. He was eating apples, wiggling it, his Dad was using a towel, wet paper towel, pliers...you name it, they tried it. No success until last Saturday morning. Lindy finally got it out. The permanent one had already poked through the gum so it was definitely time. That day was a great family day and we went to Forest Park and the Omnimax. Guess who, or what, came along with us? That's right. Ethan's tooth was along for the ride. In actuality, the tooth had a front row seat in my cup holder. I know, yuck. I didn't put it there. One thing you must know about Ethan to appreciate this story is that he is very sentimental. It's like pulling teeth to get him to part with anything. Pun intended. The next morning I was ironing the boys' clothes for church and Ethan and I were chatting. I asked him why he didn't put his tooth under his pillow for the tooth fairy and he didn't really have a good answer. I could tell he was having some issues parting with this tooth that served him well for eight--well, really, seven years. (Ethan didn't get his first tooth until he was nine months and his second tooth when he was 12 months. We honestly doubted whether the kid would have all of his teeth before he went to Kindergarten).
Given Ethan's penchant for keeping things I knew what was required in this situation. So...we had a little "goodbye" moment for his tooth. Not a funeral, mind you, we're not weird after all--just a little parting ceremony. Ethan and I thanked the tooth for being so nice and straight and white. We thanked his tooth for helping Ethan all these years with his biting and chewing and we said goodbye. Goodbye to the tooth. That night he put it under pillow and the tooth fairy brought him a dollar. He was hoping for more because it was his third lost tooth, after all. I'm not sure what the going rate is in today's economy but I think the tooth fairy thought a dollar was sufficient. Now the tooth is in tooth heaven with Ethan's two other teeth and an abundance of Jac's knocked out and regular teeth.
On the Gavin front, we had an unexpected trip to the ER this week. Now, going to the ER is not a regular occurrence for the Carnetts. Jac's only been once when he was about a year old and had bronchitis. I still get flak for that one for driving 90 mph to get him to Children's Hospital. I know, not my most brilliant moment. Ethan's been once--for 6 or 8 stitches a couple years ago. This was Gavin's second time. The first time he was about 9 months and just had a viral infection but his temp was 104 and he was having retractions. Scary!! So, this 4 1/2 year old who's never even required an antibiotic in his life had his second trip to the ER on Wednesday night.
I was teaching his Rainbows class at church. I have to pause here and say that I'm really glad I was the teacher that night and that it was my kid that got hurt. I had three little boys in class and they were playing musical chairs. Gavin wiped out and hit his head on a metal folding chair--which wasn't even in play for the game!! So, big gash, blood pouring down his face, my mother-in-law helping me to get the bleeding stopped because I had already lowered myself to the floor. I told myself it was so I could be closer to his level but I think it was really so I would be closer to the floor in case I passed out. I know, I know. I'm a registered nurse and I have a real issue with blood and seeing people in pain. Don't worry. I sit behind a desk, people. I'm not out there actually taking care of patients.
Since it was hard to tell with all the bleeding whether it needed stitches, off I went to the ER with Gavin. Lindy was speaking in the main service, and church must go on, so he met us there later. (I do think if one of our children poked out an eye or was missing a limb he would leave church to go to the ER. As it was, my mother-in-law broke the news to him after church). On the way to the ER Gavin was talking a little, mainly saying that he didn't want to go to the hospital, but talking nonetheless. By the time we got there he suddenly clammed up and didn't hardly utter a word or shed a tear. Every question that was asked by the nurses or the doctor would result him in pointing at me to answer the question. He was still wearing his Rainbows vest which resulted in a lot of comments from all of the ER staff but he was having none of it. He just stared straight ahead and avoided eye contact at all cost. He turned down popsicles, a teddy bear--even chocolate. I was beginning to wonder if his head injury was more serious than originally thought since he was turning down chocolate. But, alas, in the final analysis he didn't even need stitches or glue. I have to admit I was a little disappointed in my assessment skills but it's seriously hard to tell sometimes whether stitches are needed. Right? Lindy and I were showing Gavin all the scars he and I sustained when we were kids and I can guarantee you that neither of our parents ever took us to the ER to be checked out. Seriously. We left with some antibiotic ointment and a bandaid. Better to be safe than sorry, right? I'm telling myself that, but then I haven't gotten the bill yet.
In the end, Gavin did get his voice back long enough to leave with a popsicle from the doctor, long enough to tell me twice that he was NOT going to ride in the wheelchair sitting outside his room, and long enough to tell his Dad he wanted Buzz Lightyear as his special prize. I saw that one coming. Lindy told him he would take him to Wal-Mart and let him pick out a toy. He had one word, "Buzz." He's been eyeing Buzz ever since he saw "Toy Story 3." I've told him repeatedly that this was a Christmas or birthday type of toy since it it's $35.00. By the way, he didn't get Buzz. Lindy came to his senses by the time they made their trip to Wal-Mart.
On Thursday, Gavin didn't want to leave the house because he said his head was "broke." He's fine now and I've sufficiently recovered from the trauma myself. Selfishly, I hate seeing him hurt but it sure was nice for him to need his Mama for a couple hours.
Just a week in the life....
Saturday, October 9, 2010
The Transparent Post I've Been Avoiding...TheTruth About The Dizzy Blonde
I know I mentioned when I started this blog that I didn't really know what I would write about, how often I would post, or what direction it would take. It's been nearly two weeks since I've posted and my personal goal has been to have something of value (of course value is relative) to post about once a week. I haven't posted because I've been trying to come up with something different than this to write about. I've been rolling over ideas in my mind and I've used busyness as an excuse to avoid writing anything as personal and transparent as this.
You see, I would rather come up with something funny to write about and possibly add in some sort of redeeming take-away. I would rather not let people see that the person they might view as having it "all figured out" really doesn't; and in fact, struggles with some of the same issues. I would rather be the strong one who people go to for advice, counsel, or prayer. I would rather not appear as if I might have a chink in this self-imposed armor that I carry around. Yet, at the end of the day I know I'm human and I don't have all the answers. I just know the One who does and I choose to put every ounce of my faith and trust in Him, even when I don't understand.
My personal struggle at this moment is an inner ear issue that I've dealt with for the last three years. It's a very long story, and if you haven't personally been with me on this journey during this time, then I'm not going to bore you with the details. Basically I've had sounds and ringing in my left ear for the last three years and over the last year I've experienced varying degrees of dizziness and problems with my equilibrium. When I say "varying degrees" that's a nice way of saying anywhere from a mild unsteadiness where I feel kind of "off-kilter" to lying motionless on the bed, couch, or floor--honestly, I'll take whatever's available at the moment--trying not to toss my cookies. The worst degree is me actually tossing my cookies, and if you know me well, you know I'd be a horrible bulimic because I absolutely hate throwing up. The most frustrating and challenging part of my equilibrium problem is that it is mostly unpredictable. Most of the time the noise in my ear gets louder and the quality changes prior to one of these attacks. Sometimes it can come on suddenly and when it starts I don't always know what degree of attack it's going to be. I have now been to a total of 8 doctors--the last one being a neurotologist--and he is so specialized that a lot of physicians haven't even heard of this sub-speciality. He's a cross between a neurologist and an ENT and I've chosen to refer to him as my "fancy doctor." You see, you can make anything in life light-hearted if you try hard enough. :) If you're one of my nursing colleagues you've surely diagnosed me by now and it's true that everything has been ruled out except for Meniere's Disease. Here's the tricky part. I refuse to accept that diagnosis. I'm not whacky enough to deny that I experience these symptoms, but I am just crazy enough to believe that I'm going to overcome this and I refuse to say that I have it.
You might wonder what has brought about this sudden transparency and my decision to blog about this issue at this time and I truly think it's because I felt like I was reaching a breaking point last Sunday. I had been to see my fancy doctor on the previous Thursday and he wanted me back on the diuretic--which I had tried before without much change in the dizziness--and he wanted me to start on Valium. Now, I'm a nurse and I know that Valium is a useful medication that can be very helpful in some instances, but I don't want to live in a medicated state. I honestly felt a little hopeless sitting there in his office. It's really disheartening when the diagnosis the fancy doctor wants to give you is the same one the less fancy doctors have given you and it has no known cause and no known cure. At the same time I'm conflicted on the inside because I'm thinking of others around me who are inconvenienced when I'm incapacitated lying on the floor--my husband, my kids, my mother-in-law, my wonderful co-workers; and I feel like I owe it to them to try what the fancy doctor says to do.
Have you ever had something going on in your life where you feel like you would just prefer to go crawl in a hole and hide? I'm sure I'm not alone in this. Crawling in a hole and hiding feels like a plausible option for me sometimes. Then I could just avoid it and pretend it doesn't exist. Of course, me--being me--then feels guilty because while I'm in the hole then I'm only inconveniencing those around me even more because I'm not there to do all the things I'm supposed to do.
So, fast forward from nine days ago to last Sunday. I honestly was just feeling pretty hopeless. Before Lindy even started preaching I was already crying--and I'm not really a cryer. Whether it's at church or anywhere else it takes a lot to make me cry. What does he preach on? (Keep in mind that I could probably count on one hand the number of times I've known what he's going to preach before I hear it myself). Depression. Depression!! That's what he preached about. I sat through his whole sermon just trying to not fall apart. When he gave the altar call at the end I brought my blubbering self forward and stood with the others for prayer. I sobbed and just emptied myself of all the heartache and feelings of hopelessness I've been carrying around. I wish I had his notes handy so I could let you read what he preached but you can listen to the podcast at www.stpetersassembly.com if you're curious.
This is the first time I've really allowed myself to feel everything that I've been holding inside regarding this issue with my ear. I typically just go about my business and believe that I am going to eventually be healed of this thing. In fact, I speak it over myself every day because I believe so much in the power of our words. I not only speak out Scriptures, but I also tell myself that I have perfect hearing, perfect balance and equilibrium, and that I will accept nothing less than my ear being restored to the way it was created. Is God big enough to do that? Yes. Does he really care about this issue that might seem minor in comparison to the struggles others face? Absolutely. Even given all of that, I still get discouraged and I felt like I wasn't yet in a state of depression but I could very easily get there. I've been prayed for too many times to count that I would be healed from this inner ear issue and I haven't realized it in its fullness yet. That doesn't mean I'm giving up. If I have a day with no dizziness I give thanks to God at night for a day free from it. If I have a bad day where I'm down for the count, I still tell him I trust Him and that I'm believing for a day free from dizziness the next day.
I guess another reason I'm choosing to open up my heart and share about this right now is that I've had two situations in the past week where I was sought out for a shoulder to lean on. In the most recent one my friend, who doesn't go to church and I know doesn't feel like she's on the same level as me spiritually, said she was telling me about her situation because she knows I have a "direct line to God" and she was really in need of comfort and peace. I took this opportunity to explain to her that God does not see any one person as better than another. He hears her prayers just like He hears mine and that He has known her since before she was created. I prayed that through this situation He would make Himself real to her and meet her need.
Another reason that I sometimes feel conflicted inside is that since I work in hospice I know the worst of the worst that people can experience in their physical bodies. I sometimes feel guilty for even complaining about my little inner ear issue when there's a mother my age out there battling terminal cancer and trying to find the words to say good bye to her family. Really, it seems so selfish of me. Yet, then I remember that nothing is ever too big or small for God. We will never understand why some people are healed and some are not, and honestly I've given up trying to understand. At the end of the day I accept that God's ways are much higher than my ways and His ultimate goal is that none should perish and all would accept His Son and eternal life. If my struggle can somehow speak to someone else's situation and draw them closer to God, then it's all worth it in the end. I won't give up believing that my body is going to be restored, but until then I'll trust that He knows the beginning and the ending.
If you're wondering if I started the Valium; no, I haven't. I have started the diuretic and I haven't had a true equilibrium issue for five days. It's hard to tell if that means I'm really better because I've gone six weeks or longer and not had any issues. Other times I'll be puking two days in a row. Crazy, isn't it? Thankfully, in all of this, the love language my husband and I share is humor with a large dose of sarcasm thrown in. On days that I tell him I can't hear too well (my hearing is impaired when the ringing is loud) his immediate response is "What did you say?" Ha ha. The day last fall that he had to come get me from work and I was on the floor of my office wearing a skirt and my knee-high boots puking in a Schnucks bag he said, "How can you be so hot and still be so sick?" Ha ha again. I'm thankful he's been my rock through this and I'm thankful for a family who never gives up praying for me. Mom, I don't think it really matters to God who we are in His kingdom. His ultimate purpose will always prevail. Nevertheless, I'll never let go of James 5:16.
I hope if you are facing something that seems insurmountable that you will turn to God and give it to Him. He's always there. Just know that He loves you and listen for that still, small voice to give you encouragement. He's our faithful friend.
You see, I would rather come up with something funny to write about and possibly add in some sort of redeeming take-away. I would rather not let people see that the person they might view as having it "all figured out" really doesn't; and in fact, struggles with some of the same issues. I would rather be the strong one who people go to for advice, counsel, or prayer. I would rather not appear as if I might have a chink in this self-imposed armor that I carry around. Yet, at the end of the day I know I'm human and I don't have all the answers. I just know the One who does and I choose to put every ounce of my faith and trust in Him, even when I don't understand.
My personal struggle at this moment is an inner ear issue that I've dealt with for the last three years. It's a very long story, and if you haven't personally been with me on this journey during this time, then I'm not going to bore you with the details. Basically I've had sounds and ringing in my left ear for the last three years and over the last year I've experienced varying degrees of dizziness and problems with my equilibrium. When I say "varying degrees" that's a nice way of saying anywhere from a mild unsteadiness where I feel kind of "off-kilter" to lying motionless on the bed, couch, or floor--honestly, I'll take whatever's available at the moment--trying not to toss my cookies. The worst degree is me actually tossing my cookies, and if you know me well, you know I'd be a horrible bulimic because I absolutely hate throwing up. The most frustrating and challenging part of my equilibrium problem is that it is mostly unpredictable. Most of the time the noise in my ear gets louder and the quality changes prior to one of these attacks. Sometimes it can come on suddenly and when it starts I don't always know what degree of attack it's going to be. I have now been to a total of 8 doctors--the last one being a neurotologist--and he is so specialized that a lot of physicians haven't even heard of this sub-speciality. He's a cross between a neurologist and an ENT and I've chosen to refer to him as my "fancy doctor." You see, you can make anything in life light-hearted if you try hard enough. :) If you're one of my nursing colleagues you've surely diagnosed me by now and it's true that everything has been ruled out except for Meniere's Disease. Here's the tricky part. I refuse to accept that diagnosis. I'm not whacky enough to deny that I experience these symptoms, but I am just crazy enough to believe that I'm going to overcome this and I refuse to say that I have it.
You might wonder what has brought about this sudden transparency and my decision to blog about this issue at this time and I truly think it's because I felt like I was reaching a breaking point last Sunday. I had been to see my fancy doctor on the previous Thursday and he wanted me back on the diuretic--which I had tried before without much change in the dizziness--and he wanted me to start on Valium. Now, I'm a nurse and I know that Valium is a useful medication that can be very helpful in some instances, but I don't want to live in a medicated state. I honestly felt a little hopeless sitting there in his office. It's really disheartening when the diagnosis the fancy doctor wants to give you is the same one the less fancy doctors have given you and it has no known cause and no known cure. At the same time I'm conflicted on the inside because I'm thinking of others around me who are inconvenienced when I'm incapacitated lying on the floor--my husband, my kids, my mother-in-law, my wonderful co-workers; and I feel like I owe it to them to try what the fancy doctor says to do.
Have you ever had something going on in your life where you feel like you would just prefer to go crawl in a hole and hide? I'm sure I'm not alone in this. Crawling in a hole and hiding feels like a plausible option for me sometimes. Then I could just avoid it and pretend it doesn't exist. Of course, me--being me--then feels guilty because while I'm in the hole then I'm only inconveniencing those around me even more because I'm not there to do all the things I'm supposed to do.
So, fast forward from nine days ago to last Sunday. I honestly was just feeling pretty hopeless. Before Lindy even started preaching I was already crying--and I'm not really a cryer. Whether it's at church or anywhere else it takes a lot to make me cry. What does he preach on? (Keep in mind that I could probably count on one hand the number of times I've known what he's going to preach before I hear it myself). Depression. Depression!! That's what he preached about. I sat through his whole sermon just trying to not fall apart. When he gave the altar call at the end I brought my blubbering self forward and stood with the others for prayer. I sobbed and just emptied myself of all the heartache and feelings of hopelessness I've been carrying around. I wish I had his notes handy so I could let you read what he preached but you can listen to the podcast at www.stpetersassembly.com if you're curious.
This is the first time I've really allowed myself to feel everything that I've been holding inside regarding this issue with my ear. I typically just go about my business and believe that I am going to eventually be healed of this thing. In fact, I speak it over myself every day because I believe so much in the power of our words. I not only speak out Scriptures, but I also tell myself that I have perfect hearing, perfect balance and equilibrium, and that I will accept nothing less than my ear being restored to the way it was created. Is God big enough to do that? Yes. Does he really care about this issue that might seem minor in comparison to the struggles others face? Absolutely. Even given all of that, I still get discouraged and I felt like I wasn't yet in a state of depression but I could very easily get there. I've been prayed for too many times to count that I would be healed from this inner ear issue and I haven't realized it in its fullness yet. That doesn't mean I'm giving up. If I have a day with no dizziness I give thanks to God at night for a day free from it. If I have a bad day where I'm down for the count, I still tell him I trust Him and that I'm believing for a day free from dizziness the next day.
I guess another reason I'm choosing to open up my heart and share about this right now is that I've had two situations in the past week where I was sought out for a shoulder to lean on. In the most recent one my friend, who doesn't go to church and I know doesn't feel like she's on the same level as me spiritually, said she was telling me about her situation because she knows I have a "direct line to God" and she was really in need of comfort and peace. I took this opportunity to explain to her that God does not see any one person as better than another. He hears her prayers just like He hears mine and that He has known her since before she was created. I prayed that through this situation He would make Himself real to her and meet her need.
Another reason that I sometimes feel conflicted inside is that since I work in hospice I know the worst of the worst that people can experience in their physical bodies. I sometimes feel guilty for even complaining about my little inner ear issue when there's a mother my age out there battling terminal cancer and trying to find the words to say good bye to her family. Really, it seems so selfish of me. Yet, then I remember that nothing is ever too big or small for God. We will never understand why some people are healed and some are not, and honestly I've given up trying to understand. At the end of the day I accept that God's ways are much higher than my ways and His ultimate goal is that none should perish and all would accept His Son and eternal life. If my struggle can somehow speak to someone else's situation and draw them closer to God, then it's all worth it in the end. I won't give up believing that my body is going to be restored, but until then I'll trust that He knows the beginning and the ending.
If you're wondering if I started the Valium; no, I haven't. I have started the diuretic and I haven't had a true equilibrium issue for five days. It's hard to tell if that means I'm really better because I've gone six weeks or longer and not had any issues. Other times I'll be puking two days in a row. Crazy, isn't it? Thankfully, in all of this, the love language my husband and I share is humor with a large dose of sarcasm thrown in. On days that I tell him I can't hear too well (my hearing is impaired when the ringing is loud) his immediate response is "What did you say?" Ha ha. The day last fall that he had to come get me from work and I was on the floor of my office wearing a skirt and my knee-high boots puking in a Schnucks bag he said, "How can you be so hot and still be so sick?" Ha ha again. I'm thankful he's been my rock through this and I'm thankful for a family who never gives up praying for me. Mom, I don't think it really matters to God who we are in His kingdom. His ultimate purpose will always prevail. Nevertheless, I'll never let go of James 5:16.
I hope if you are facing something that seems insurmountable that you will turn to God and give it to Him. He's always there. Just know that He loves you and listen for that still, small voice to give you encouragement. He's our faithful friend.
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