From the website I've highlighted and put in Red the ones I've noticed in myself already.
LUPUS ERYTHEMATOSUS AND RHEUMATOID ARTHRITIS
Not all of the following reactions have been observed with every 4-aminoquinoline compound during long-term therapy, but they have been reported with one or more and should be borne in mind when drugs of this class are administered. Adverse effects with different compounds vary in type and frequency.
Gastrointestinal Reactions: Anorexia, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and abdominal cramps. Isolated cases of abnormal liver function and fulminant hepatic failure.
Miscellaneous Reactions: Weight loss, lassitude, exacerbation or precipitation of porphyria and nonlight-sensitive psoriasis.
There are a whole bunch more that I left out ... many are effecting me ..however ... the important one ... loss of appetite. Food ...has lost all flavor.
Like with the Topomax where soda no longer has any fizz ..so therefore, has lost any and all appeal ... food, has no flavor, and has even less appeal than normal for me.
This, cannot be a good thing.
I go to eat, and take two or three bites and feel remarkably full. I know exactly what is meant by salt loosing it's savor!
Sweet has no sweet and salt is dull. Coffee tastes like water ...
For someone who has an eating disorder and has to discipline themselves to eat, this ..could turn into a real issue.
I've looked back over the last 5 days and noted I've already 'misplaced' lunch in my daily food plan.
I am not sure what to do at this point. I see my therapist on Tuesday and will let my psychiatrist know while I'm there in the clinic.
*shrug*
Dr. Suess
"And will you succeed? Yes indeed! Yes indeed! Ninety Eight and Three Quarters guarenteed!"
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
Paradoxical Living
I don't know if I've ever gone this long without blogging when I've had access to a computer! Eeeps!
March 1992 ... I was unable to dress myself, I could not chew scrambled eggs, I could not get up from a chair without help, and I could not hold my head up. Breathing was something to be concentrated on. Swallowing? Well, that was a trick. There was two of everything no matter where I looked, and on many occasions, there could be as many as five.
Walking was a trick, and I could wind up on the floor without warning.
As often as not, I could not get a fork from a plate to my mouth.
I had a 2 and a half month old baby, picking him up ...impossible. Holding his 4 oz bottle ..too heavy, I'd drop it. I was as likely to drop it as not. To hold my son, I had to have help getting settled into the couch where my arms were supported on both sides, then they placed him in my arms. Then someone else put the bottle in his mouth, and place something under it to support it. I could not burp him, bathe him, nor change his diaper.
The second Tuesday in March, I fell and injured my shoulder, that night they took me to the emergency room. To get me down the stairs, my mother and husband took the couch cushions and let me fall onto the porch, then sit on each step as I slid down each stair. They then helped me to stand up, and get me into the car. When we got the the ER, I could not get out, someone from the ER had to come lift me out of the car.
In the ER ... 2 Residents from the OU College of Medicine were called down to see me. One, a Dr. El Rehab (Knight in Shining Armor 1) and the other, I wish I could remember his name, I think it was Dr. Fisher (Knight in Shining Armor 2), both examined me independent of each other ... came together after examining me, looked at each other and jointly said "Myasthenia Gravis"
They admitted me for testing and beginning treatment. I'd not understood the word they'd used ..and was scared to death. My husband made a crack about "it's all Greek to me" when he was talking to my mom. We still laugh about that comment.
Twenty four hours later, an EMG, full evoked potentials, tensilon test later .... I met my new neurologist Dr. M (forever hero and political talk buddy) . I was told I had a disease called Myasthenia Gravis. "mya what?"
They explained to me that it was an autoimmune disease that was attacking my muscles, including the breathing and swallowing muscles. The difficulty with it, is that medications and surgeries ... can really complicate the disease ... so, with this disease ...medications and surgeries would only be given if absolutely necessary.
OK ..fine! who wants to take medications and have surgery anyway??!?!?
The next sentence they tell me ... I'm going to be taking Mestinon .. Prednisone and Imuran ... and ... I need to have my thymus gland removed.
um. OK.
They then go over the risks of the prednisone and the Imuran ... hey! these are not light weight drugs here!! These are serious stuffs!!!
Then, I timidly asked "where is the thymus?"
"it's located right behind the breast bone, it's that thing that most people think is the heart"
"gulp"
OK ..so you get it out how?
We cut open your chest ...and my ears started to ring and I don't remember the rest of the conversation ....
In the following 16 years ... I expected that I'd not have many medications or surgeries ..after all ..they said that it'd only be given if absolutely necessary and surgeries are only done if NECESSARY ...
however ... here I am .. 16 year later ... and as of this week, with the new addition of Plaquenil .. on 24 medications ...and having had 15 surgeries with my orthopod wanting to do another on my shoulder.
OK ...so ... yeah, all of my meds are necessary ... every few months one of my docs go through all of them desperately trying to wean some out, and they can't ...
All of my surgeries (well, maybe not one of them) have been absolutely necessary ...
but still ... 16 years ago, I expected to have a life of few meds, no surgeries ...
instead I got extended meds and extended surgeries ...
go figure.
March 1992 ... I was unable to dress myself, I could not chew scrambled eggs, I could not get up from a chair without help, and I could not hold my head up. Breathing was something to be concentrated on. Swallowing? Well, that was a trick. There was two of everything no matter where I looked, and on many occasions, there could be as many as five.
Walking was a trick, and I could wind up on the floor without warning.
As often as not, I could not get a fork from a plate to my mouth.
I had a 2 and a half month old baby, picking him up ...impossible. Holding his 4 oz bottle ..too heavy, I'd drop it. I was as likely to drop it as not. To hold my son, I had to have help getting settled into the couch where my arms were supported on both sides, then they placed him in my arms. Then someone else put the bottle in his mouth, and place something under it to support it. I could not burp him, bathe him, nor change his diaper.
The second Tuesday in March, I fell and injured my shoulder, that night they took me to the emergency room. To get me down the stairs, my mother and husband took the couch cushions and let me fall onto the porch, then sit on each step as I slid down each stair. They then helped me to stand up, and get me into the car. When we got the the ER, I could not get out, someone from the ER had to come lift me out of the car.
In the ER ... 2 Residents from the OU College of Medicine were called down to see me. One, a Dr. El Rehab (Knight in Shining Armor 1) and the other, I wish I could remember his name, I think it was Dr. Fisher (Knight in Shining Armor 2), both examined me independent of each other ... came together after examining me, looked at each other and jointly said "Myasthenia Gravis"
They admitted me for testing and beginning treatment. I'd not understood the word they'd used ..and was scared to death. My husband made a crack about "it's all Greek to me" when he was talking to my mom. We still laugh about that comment.
Twenty four hours later, an EMG, full evoked potentials, tensilon test later .... I met my new neurologist Dr. M (forever hero and political talk buddy) . I was told I had a disease called Myasthenia Gravis. "mya what?"
They explained to me that it was an autoimmune disease that was attacking my muscles, including the breathing and swallowing muscles. The difficulty with it, is that medications and surgeries ... can really complicate the disease ... so, with this disease ...medications and surgeries would only be given if absolutely necessary.
OK ..fine! who wants to take medications and have surgery anyway??!?!?
The next sentence they tell me ... I'm going to be taking Mestinon .. Prednisone and Imuran ... and ... I need to have my thymus gland removed.
um. OK.
They then go over the risks of the prednisone and the Imuran ... hey! these are not light weight drugs here!! These are serious stuffs!!!
Then, I timidly asked "where is the thymus?"
"it's located right behind the breast bone, it's that thing that most people think is the heart"
"gulp"
OK ..so you get it out how?
We cut open your chest ...and my ears started to ring and I don't remember the rest of the conversation ....
In the following 16 years ... I expected that I'd not have many medications or surgeries ..after all ..they said that it'd only be given if absolutely necessary and surgeries are only done if NECESSARY ...
however ... here I am .. 16 year later ... and as of this week, with the new addition of Plaquenil .. on 24 medications ...and having had 15 surgeries with my orthopod wanting to do another on my shoulder.
OK ...so ... yeah, all of my meds are necessary ... every few months one of my docs go through all of them desperately trying to wean some out, and they can't ...
All of my surgeries (well, maybe not one of them) have been absolutely necessary ...
but still ... 16 years ago, I expected to have a life of few meds, no surgeries ...
instead I got extended meds and extended surgeries ...
go figure.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Saving Jane - Imperfection
Lyrics Imperfection
Saving Jane
My hair's a wreck
Mascara runs
My feet get dirty and my skin burns in the sun
My lips, they bleed
But I still sing my songs
Takes me a minute to admit it when I'm wrong
Pretty is as pretty does, but pretty's not my thing...
This is what you get
This is who I am
Take me now or leave me
Any way you can
Sometimes I trip and fall
But I know where I stand
If you're thinking about changing my direction,
Don't mess with imperfection
My back is weak
But my will is true
Got good intentions but I never follow through
And I say too much
Don't know when to leave
In case you're looking, that's my heart there on my sleeve
Ego trips and stupid slipups, I'm a mess but...
Chorus
Scratched and bruised, a little used, but baby I work fine
You might call me damaged goods, but I'm one of a kind
My hair's a wreck
No, I'm not perfect but I'm not the only one...
hmmm
On the 25th ... I have an appt with a new dermatologist ... I didn't realize it, it has been 3 years since I've seen one! No, wait ...2?
2 I guess ... too long regardless for someone with a history of melanoma ...
I'm nervous ... I've got this sick uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach ... I don't usually have that feeling ...maybe that's why I've avoided going to a new derm.
2 I guess ... too long regardless for someone with a history of melanoma ...
I'm nervous ... I've got this sick uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach ... I don't usually have that feeling ...maybe that's why I've avoided going to a new derm.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Sit down while I tell you a story
When I was a little girl I had short hair
I hated having short hair! I begged and begged to have long hair! My sister, had long hair, she would get these rats nests in it, that my mother took 2 to 3 hours every saturday to work out, but I was told no ... I would not take care of my hair, so I had to keep my hair short.
The irony of the comment was not lost on me.
All through elementary school ... my sister kept the baseball cap on ... I begged for long hair ...
I entered high school and begged ... and was still told no ... my mom compromised by letting me keep it shoulder length and permed ...
(yes, that's an actual yearbook photo!)
So, when I graduated,
I let my hair grow ... and I let it grow ... it grew ...and it was thick, and healthy ...and long.
And ... I loved my hair ... I could have used with some curl ... but I loved my hair. I loved the color ... I loved the texture ... and I loved the length. It eventually grew below my waist, then clear down to my hips. I would sit on it when I sat down.
I loved my hair. It was the long hair that I always dreamed of having! From early childhood ... I'd dreamed of having this hair!!
I hated my eyes ...I hated my chin ...good gravy what girl wants a jay leno chin???
I hated my body ...and everything about it. I had a chest that was way too large, not only was did it get in the way, but it was physically uncomfortable, and it drew way too much attention. For someone who'd been through what I'd been through ...that, was definitely an unnecessary part of my anatomy. I hated my arms, my gosh they are larger than life itself. My fingers are too short and my feet too big .... my legs too large and my hips too big ...there is nothing about my body that I like ...but my hair ... I loved my hair.
Then one day, a girl in the youth group challenged me to donate my hair to locks of love. We were supposed to do it together. I panicked at the thought. I argued with God for over 6 months about it. How could God ask me to give up the one thing about my body that I actually liked?
The one thing that I'd wanted my whole childhood but had been denied ... and was actually loosing ... because of medications? lupus? who knew what was causing it to fall out, but it was ... but why would God ask me to donate the precious inches I'd waited years to have?
But after 6 months of arguing with God about it, I finally told him "No, I simply cannot do it, my hair simply is my only thing about me that I can tolerate. I NEED my long hair to even look at myself in the mirror."
I went told him that in a church service on Sunday, and I went home from church and turned on the TV, a local news anchor was being interviewed about her battle with breast cancer. They showed her having to shave her head from the chemo .. "whoa ...dirty pool God ...but ok"
The next day, I went and donated 14 inches. Ironically, my hair was still half way down my back when they were done!
It was so hard to hear them cut those scissors, but my hair looked healthier with the 14 inches gone ... and 6 weeks later ... my doctor in an exam ... felt a lump in my breast ... I was frozen ... what if I'd kept my no to a no??????? How could I have faced myself in that mirror then? I sat in the breast surgeon's waiting room wondering what I'd have done if I'd kept my 14 inches of hair ... only to loose ALL of my hair ...
It turned out to not be cancer ... I was lucky.
2 years later I donated 10 more inches ...and still had it half way down my back, but by then ... my hair, falling out from lupus ... was looking unhealthy, and scraggly ....my hair that I'd always loved so much was becoming an object of frustration.
A year ago, I cut it to my shoulders. Complements galore came ... and tears fell from my face.
Everyone loved the new Peggi ...
I was frustrated ... I knew it looked healthier ... but I also knew it was the end of my long hair, for good ..
I let it grow ... and let it grow ... but today ... I got it cut again ...
I thought I'd posted on a forum in a tone that just mentioned it, but someone was able to 'read through' my tone that the mourning of my long hair ...
The identity that was caught up in what I saw as the only thing in me as beautiful ...
The intellectual part of me knows better .... that doesn't change the emotional part of me at all ...there will always be the little girl in me stomping my feet demanding the long hair ...
I hated having short hair! I begged and begged to have long hair! My sister, had long hair, she would get these rats nests in it, that my mother took 2 to 3 hours every saturday to work out, but I was told no ... I would not take care of my hair, so I had to keep my hair short.
The irony of the comment was not lost on me.
All through elementary school ... my sister kept the baseball cap on ... I begged for long hair ...
I entered high school and begged ... and was still told no ... my mom compromised by letting me keep it shoulder length and permed ...
(yes, that's an actual yearbook photo!)So, when I graduated,
I let my hair grow ... and I let it grow ... it grew ...and it was thick, and healthy ...and long.And ... I loved my hair ... I could have used with some curl ... but I loved my hair. I loved the color ... I loved the texture ... and I loved the length. It eventually grew below my waist, then clear down to my hips. I would sit on it when I sat down.
I loved my hair. It was the long hair that I always dreamed of having! From early childhood ... I'd dreamed of having this hair!!
I hated my eyes ...I hated my chin ...good gravy what girl wants a jay leno chin???
I hated my body ...and everything about it. I had a chest that was way too large, not only was did it get in the way, but it was physically uncomfortable, and it drew way too much attention. For someone who'd been through what I'd been through ...that, was definitely an unnecessary part of my anatomy. I hated my arms, my gosh they are larger than life itself. My fingers are too short and my feet too big .... my legs too large and my hips too big ...there is nothing about my body that I like ...but my hair ... I loved my hair.
Then one day, a girl in the youth group challenged me to donate my hair to locks of love. We were supposed to do it together. I panicked at the thought. I argued with God for over 6 months about it. How could God ask me to give up the one thing about my body that I actually liked?
The one thing that I'd wanted my whole childhood but had been denied ... and was actually loosing ... because of medications? lupus? who knew what was causing it to fall out, but it was ... but why would God ask me to donate the precious inches I'd waited years to have?
But after 6 months of arguing with God about it, I finally told him "No, I simply cannot do it, my hair simply is my only thing about me that I can tolerate. I NEED my long hair to even look at myself in the mirror."
I went told him that in a church service on Sunday, and I went home from church and turned on the TV, a local news anchor was being interviewed about her battle with breast cancer. They showed her having to shave her head from the chemo .. "whoa ...dirty pool God ...but ok"
The next day, I went and donated 14 inches. Ironically, my hair was still half way down my back when they were done!
It was so hard to hear them cut those scissors, but my hair looked healthier with the 14 inches gone ... and 6 weeks later ... my doctor in an exam ... felt a lump in my breast ... I was frozen ... what if I'd kept my no to a no??????? How could I have faced myself in that mirror then? I sat in the breast surgeon's waiting room wondering what I'd have done if I'd kept my 14 inches of hair ... only to loose ALL of my hair ...
It turned out to not be cancer ... I was lucky.
2 years later I donated 10 more inches ...and still had it half way down my back, but by then ... my hair, falling out from lupus ... was looking unhealthy, and scraggly ....my hair that I'd always loved so much was becoming an object of frustration.
A year ago, I cut it to my shoulders. Complements galore came ... and tears fell from my face.
Everyone loved the new Peggi ...
I was frustrated ... I knew it looked healthier ... but I also knew it was the end of my long hair, for good ..
I let it grow ... and let it grow ... but today ... I got it cut again ...
I thought I'd posted on a forum in a tone that just mentioned it, but someone was able to 'read through' my tone that the mourning of my long hair ...
The identity that was caught up in what I saw as the only thing in me as beautiful ...
The intellectual part of me knows better .... that doesn't change the emotional part of me at all ...there will always be the little girl in me stomping my feet demanding the long hair ...
Sunday, March 02, 2008
lupie
Here we go lupdieloo here we go lupdielie here we go lupdieloo ... all on a Saturday night ....
ok, it's Sunday ... but hey ...
My blog, originally was started out as a patient blog. It's turned into a general interest blog with occassional postings of being a patient. When I do post about being a patient, it's very purposeful ...
Today, I'm posting in hopes of coming to grips with how I'm feeling ...maybe.
Maybe if I can describe for myself how I'm feeling ... maybe I'll actually believe it myself and allow my body to get the rest it needs.
Denial is a big part of being Chronically ill. So few people who are not chronically ill understand what it is like, that those of us who *are* try to make it easier for those who are not. We don't want to make life more complicated for those who are in our lives than it already is.
We don't like the sympathy rather than empathy. We don't like the statements of false hope when we need understanding and we certainly don't like the doom and gloom when we need statements of hope. The problem there is ... no one can read our minds and be able to tell us what we need to hear and often we don't even know what we need to hear ourselves!
To be told "it's all going to be ok" when we know ..."NOTHING is ever going to be the same again" and quite frankly ...that is NOT okay is not easy to hear. It is frustrating and sometimes downright overwhelming. When we are told by someone who is healthy "I know how you feel"
it is ... frustrating to say the least ...and sometimes cause for anger. Excuse me ... when you wake up and you stand up, and your legs don't function, you go to step and your knees buckle ... and you have to wait for 20 minutes after you've taken your medicine that helps your muscles function (Mestinon) before you can even take a step ... then, and only then ...can you say "I know how you feel."
A cold 2 times a year does not let you know how I feel. I dare say that I feel worse on my best day that you feel on your worst day. (Assuming you are healthy! If you are reading this and you are not healthy, then I'm not talking to you) If, I did not know what was wrong with me, and I woke up feeling like I do on my best day, I would jet off to the doctor in a panic of what in theheckhashappenedtomybodysomethingisdesperatelywrongohgodhelpmemybodyisfallingapart!!!!!
Ok, that is not what this post was supposed to be about ...that was what my I hate 10 things was about the other day. I guess I'm getting a lot of false sympathy in my life right now and it's annoying the fire out of me. So, onto what this was supposed to be about ...what I *feel* like lupuswise right now.
When I was a freshman in high school, a woman moved to our town. Lorrie Avalon. She later married and became Lorrie Sluder. She was an interpreter for the deaf. Several of us teenaged girls followed after her like little ducks ... where Lorrie was, we could be found, copying her every move. She was our hero! She was very patient with us, and took the time to teach us sign language. She taught us the very intricate nuances of interpreting, signing to worship songs and communicating in sign. She also taught us the special things we needed to know to understand 'deaf culture'. By the time I left Colorado, I was, an interpreter for the deaf.
I met a girl here, Marcy, who had learned sign at the same place Lorrie had, and Marcy and I signed together in a choir, Proclamation. We started a sign ministry at Grace fellowship, including interpreting for the deaf.
Signing was a huge part of my participation in worship ministries. Singing was definitely there, but signing was probably ..no, it WAS my first love.
Signing ... was my first love period. Over anything.
When I finally decided to go to college at 22, I majored in deaf education.
When I got sick with myashtenia gravis when Samuel was born, I begame too weak to sign. When I finally got diagnosed, the medications gave me enough strength to sign to music, at least enough for my own love of signing.
By the time I started at Southpark 10 years ago, the meds had helped enough for me to be able to sign for special music now and then. (About once a month)
During this time, I was, because of many symptoms ... I was tested repeatidly for lupus, the ANA kept coming back normal.
About 4 years ago, my arms and hands started to really bother me. Hot joints. Swollen ... and the fear of Rheumatoid Arthritis came up. So, they tested. Long story short ... they found the Anti Double stranded DNA and it was sky high .... no RA ... but the lupus they'd suspected since the beginning of the suspecting of MG.
My relief, was palpable ... my hands would be ok. My hands were my dreams, my hands were my life. My hands .... were my means of worship! To have RA meant to have malformation and crippling that would effect the ability to sign.
I was sent to a rheumatologist and as I expressed my relief in it being lupus not RA he sadly looked at me and said "in a small percentage, lupus *can* malform joints, don't count your chickens before they hatch"
Fast forward to today ...and ... my hands look like that of an RA patient. The joints are buldging, and the fingers are turning to the outward angle and my fingernails don't face to the top when I hold my hands flat. Frustrating to the least.
Signing ... is out of the question. I can no longer make the signs do what they are supposed to do. They just don't work right! Add to that the tremors that I have, and well ... nothing works right.
Discouraged doesn't even start to discribe it.
Today, my joints are swollen ...even my elbows, my breast bone and my feet are swollen and hot. I'm dizzy ... and my shoulders and hips ache. Pleurisy is a major issue today. I can't get in a deep breath. I'm wondering if I've got another case of pericarditis going, because it's soooooo much worse on the left side than the right. Not curious enough to go to the doctor though. I'll up the celebrex for a day or two ...
It's weird to have a swollen breast bone ... it's something most people would never even think about. But, it happens. At least, to lupus patients ... it's called Costochondritis. It's painful and add that with pleurisy and it makes breathing a rather painful experience. Moving, not much better.
The vertigo ... you wonder ... if I was breathing better ... would I be dizzy ....but then you go lay down ....and the world still spins and you know ... it's true vertigo ... and you realize you're in a true lupus flare.
And there isn't a dang thing anyone can do about it ... you can just wait it out ... because you're meds are topped out...
And you wonder
what did I do to bring this on?
Did I over do it?
Am I getting sick?
Was I exposed to something?
Is it the weather? (Most likely culprit this time ... we had cold weather, it suddenly got VERY WARM this weekend ... 70's ... and then will be snowing tomorrow)
What brought this on this time and what can I do, if anything to prevent it next time?
Here we go lupdieloo ... all on a saturday night ....
ok, it's Sunday ... but hey ...
My blog, originally was started out as a patient blog. It's turned into a general interest blog with occassional postings of being a patient. When I do post about being a patient, it's very purposeful ...
Today, I'm posting in hopes of coming to grips with how I'm feeling ...maybe.
Maybe if I can describe for myself how I'm feeling ... maybe I'll actually believe it myself and allow my body to get the rest it needs.
Denial is a big part of being Chronically ill. So few people who are not chronically ill understand what it is like, that those of us who *are* try to make it easier for those who are not. We don't want to make life more complicated for those who are in our lives than it already is.
We don't like the sympathy rather than empathy. We don't like the statements of false hope when we need understanding and we certainly don't like the doom and gloom when we need statements of hope. The problem there is ... no one can read our minds and be able to tell us what we need to hear and often we don't even know what we need to hear ourselves!
To be told "it's all going to be ok" when we know ..."NOTHING is ever going to be the same again" and quite frankly ...that is NOT okay is not easy to hear. It is frustrating and sometimes downright overwhelming. When we are told by someone who is healthy "I know how you feel"
it is ... frustrating to say the least ...and sometimes cause for anger. Excuse me ... when you wake up and you stand up, and your legs don't function, you go to step and your knees buckle ... and you have to wait for 20 minutes after you've taken your medicine that helps your muscles function (Mestinon) before you can even take a step ... then, and only then ...can you say "I know how you feel."
A cold 2 times a year does not let you know how I feel. I dare say that I feel worse on my best day that you feel on your worst day. (Assuming you are healthy! If you are reading this and you are not healthy, then I'm not talking to you) If, I did not know what was wrong with me, and I woke up feeling like I do on my best day, I would jet off to the doctor in a panic of what in theheckhashappenedtomybodysomethingisdesperatelywrongohgodhelpmemybodyisfallingapart!!!!!
Ok, that is not what this post was supposed to be about ...that was what my I hate 10 things was about the other day. I guess I'm getting a lot of false sympathy in my life right now and it's annoying the fire out of me. So, onto what this was supposed to be about ...what I *feel* like lupuswise right now.
When I was a freshman in high school, a woman moved to our town. Lorrie Avalon. She later married and became Lorrie Sluder. She was an interpreter for the deaf. Several of us teenaged girls followed after her like little ducks ... where Lorrie was, we could be found, copying her every move. She was our hero! She was very patient with us, and took the time to teach us sign language. She taught us the very intricate nuances of interpreting, signing to worship songs and communicating in sign. She also taught us the special things we needed to know to understand 'deaf culture'. By the time I left Colorado, I was, an interpreter for the deaf.
I met a girl here, Marcy, who had learned sign at the same place Lorrie had, and Marcy and I signed together in a choir, Proclamation. We started a sign ministry at Grace fellowship, including interpreting for the deaf.
Signing was a huge part of my participation in worship ministries. Singing was definitely there, but signing was probably ..no, it WAS my first love.
Signing ... was my first love period. Over anything.
When I finally decided to go to college at 22, I majored in deaf education.
When I got sick with myashtenia gravis when Samuel was born, I begame too weak to sign. When I finally got diagnosed, the medications gave me enough strength to sign to music, at least enough for my own love of signing.
By the time I started at Southpark 10 years ago, the meds had helped enough for me to be able to sign for special music now and then. (About once a month)
During this time, I was, because of many symptoms ... I was tested repeatidly for lupus, the ANA kept coming back normal.
About 4 years ago, my arms and hands started to really bother me. Hot joints. Swollen ... and the fear of Rheumatoid Arthritis came up. So, they tested. Long story short ... they found the Anti Double stranded DNA and it was sky high .... no RA ... but the lupus they'd suspected since the beginning of the suspecting of MG.
My relief, was palpable ... my hands would be ok. My hands were my dreams, my hands were my life. My hands .... were my means of worship! To have RA meant to have malformation and crippling that would effect the ability to sign.
I was sent to a rheumatologist and as I expressed my relief in it being lupus not RA he sadly looked at me and said "in a small percentage, lupus *can* malform joints, don't count your chickens before they hatch"
Fast forward to today ...and ... my hands look like that of an RA patient. The joints are buldging, and the fingers are turning to the outward angle and my fingernails don't face to the top when I hold my hands flat. Frustrating to the least.
Signing ... is out of the question. I can no longer make the signs do what they are supposed to do. They just don't work right! Add to that the tremors that I have, and well ... nothing works right.
Discouraged doesn't even start to discribe it.
Today, my joints are swollen ...even my elbows, my breast bone and my feet are swollen and hot. I'm dizzy ... and my shoulders and hips ache. Pleurisy is a major issue today. I can't get in a deep breath. I'm wondering if I've got another case of pericarditis going, because it's soooooo much worse on the left side than the right. Not curious enough to go to the doctor though. I'll up the celebrex for a day or two ...
It's weird to have a swollen breast bone ... it's something most people would never even think about. But, it happens. At least, to lupus patients ... it's called Costochondritis. It's painful and add that with pleurisy and it makes breathing a rather painful experience. Moving, not much better.
The vertigo ... you wonder ... if I was breathing better ... would I be dizzy ....but then you go lay down ....and the world still spins and you know ... it's true vertigo ... and you realize you're in a true lupus flare.
And there isn't a dang thing anyone can do about it ... you can just wait it out ... because you're meds are topped out...
And you wonder
what did I do to bring this on?
Did I over do it?
Am I getting sick?
Was I exposed to something?
Is it the weather? (Most likely culprit this time ... we had cold weather, it suddenly got VERY WARM this weekend ... 70's ... and then will be snowing tomorrow)
What brought this on this time and what can I do, if anything to prevent it next time?
Here we go lupdieloo ... all on a saturday night ....
Saturday, March 01, 2008
What was I thinking?
So, last September it came across the desk of a young social security disability employee (she sounded like she might still be in her 20's, actually, teens, but I'm assuming someone has to be at least a college graduate to work at the ssa) that my oldest was turning 18. That meant that the benifits he was recieving as a child of a parent with disabilities would come to an end.
We were prepared for this. We knew this would happen.
However, as this young girl read the file, she read that my disability began with the birth of this said 18 year old.
So, she got it into her head that ...if the myasthenia gravis began with his birth, then obviously, if he is turning 18, then I must be fine now that he is an adult! Makes perfectly good medical sense right?
*rolling eyes*
So, even though, I'm scheduled to have an every 3 year review of my disability, and I'd just had one done the year before (literally, done in 2006) I had to go through the process again, simply based on the fact that my son turned 18 and my disability started with his birth.
Trust me, the counselor in Tulsa in charge of my case, NOT young, was less than amused. Especially when I showed up in person in her office. I did not plan it that day, but, I didn't look good, it was not a good day. It happened to be a bad day ...dark circles, drooping eyelids and all.
Anyway ...once the paperwork is in motion ... it's in motion and the caseworker can't say "I've seen this woman and she looks like hell ... case closed!"
So, I had to go through the whole recert process.
Somehow, I got it into my head that I was going to be denied.
My brain went into overdrive. How was I going to go to work? What would I do? How would I manage when I have days I spend most of the day in bed? How am I going to work when most of my work skills are waitressing or grocery store clerk ...both physically demanding jobs?
What in the world was I going to do?
Add all that to my already too much to do ... I was terrified. But, I kept that fear to myself. I didn't even tell my therapist that this fear was going through my brain.
Even though each week she'd tell me of all the MG symptoms she could SEE ... (ok, in all fairness, her mom had MG, so she's a bit skilled in visualizing it)
I get the letter from SSA ...
Not only did they continue my disability ..but I don't get reviewed for FIVE years instead of three. Because "you're health has obviously declined to the point that we don't need to reveiw you in the 3 year period of time. We will review you in 5 years and see how you are doing at that time"
um ... ok.
We were prepared for this. We knew this would happen.
However, as this young girl read the file, she read that my disability began with the birth of this said 18 year old.
So, she got it into her head that ...if the myasthenia gravis began with his birth, then obviously, if he is turning 18, then I must be fine now that he is an adult! Makes perfectly good medical sense right?
*rolling eyes*
So, even though, I'm scheduled to have an every 3 year review of my disability, and I'd just had one done the year before (literally, done in 2006) I had to go through the process again, simply based on the fact that my son turned 18 and my disability started with his birth.
Trust me, the counselor in Tulsa in charge of my case, NOT young, was less than amused. Especially when I showed up in person in her office. I did not plan it that day, but, I didn't look good, it was not a good day. It happened to be a bad day ...dark circles, drooping eyelids and all.
Anyway ...once the paperwork is in motion ... it's in motion and the caseworker can't say "I've seen this woman and she looks like hell ... case closed!"
So, I had to go through the whole recert process.
Somehow, I got it into my head that I was going to be denied.
My brain went into overdrive. How was I going to go to work? What would I do? How would I manage when I have days I spend most of the day in bed? How am I going to work when most of my work skills are waitressing or grocery store clerk ...both physically demanding jobs?
What in the world was I going to do?
Add all that to my already too much to do ... I was terrified. But, I kept that fear to myself. I didn't even tell my therapist that this fear was going through my brain.
Even though each week she'd tell me of all the MG symptoms she could SEE ... (ok, in all fairness, her mom had MG, so she's a bit skilled in visualizing it)
I get the letter from SSA ...
Not only did they continue my disability ..but I don't get reviewed for FIVE years instead of three. Because "you're health has obviously declined to the point that we don't need to reveiw you in the 3 year period of time. We will review you in 5 years and see how you are doing at that time"
um ... ok.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Old Passion/New Hobby
I posted last October about my love of Blue Willow and why. At that time, I had no pieces of blue willow, just memories of a childhood miniature tea set that I absolutely demolished ...
I planned on using that memory to write my Nanowrimo novel. My husband and I went to the antique store to get a plate to use as a muse. I got a cup and a plate.
Then, some dear friends surprised me with a birthday present of a miniature tea set!!! I was overwhelmed ...and surprised ...and delighted! My therapist, who collects blue willow, gave me a bread and butter plate to also use as a muse.
So ..suddenly, my love of blue willow went from a love, fond (if embarrasing) memories to a minor collection of this china I loved so much!
Then it kind of ...well ... blew up ... I realized that just because I hadn't been collecting since my childhood (like my elephants) did not mean it was too late to start. I also realized that just because I had an elephant collection did not mean that I could not have my blue willow too!
So now ... I have
2 plates, 10 inches from Churchill England
2 saucers from the Royal China Company (with a mark they used from 1920 to 1949.
1 Soup Bowl from the Royal China Company (same mark)
2 tea cups from Churchill England
1 Saucer frm Churchill England
1 Miniature tea set
4 cups, 4 saucers, tea pot, sugar bowl, creamer jar and cookie plate.
1 Bread and butter plate from The Royal China Company
1 Miniature tea set cookie plate with stamp from Japan (blue)
1 Vase 8 inches tall, with Ironstone stamp on it.
1 Bread and butter plate with stamp from Japan (black)
Plus and elephant in blue and white china, but different pattern.
I really really want to find a blue willow elephant!! Although, I have the feeling that if I did so, it'd be quite costly, the cats and cows are worth a small fortune!
I have enjoyed, as much as acquiring the plates, learning about the different types of blue willow:
Traditional,
Two Temples 1
Two Temples 2
Manderin
Worcster
Burleigh
Turner
Simplified
Polychrome
Canton
The different borders:
Traditional
Butterfly or Insect
Fitzhugh
Bow Knot
Dagger
Scroll and Flowers
Floral
Pictoral
Simple Line
Borderless
And different manufactures used different patterns ... so just because you have a Churchill England, doesn'[t mean the very next Churchill England plate will have the same pattern!!
The vase I have, has a Two Temple's 2 design
while most of the others have a traditional,
Some plates have thin birds, others have fat birds ...some have no birds.
Looking at the different designs for how many people ... the Two Temples 2 has only 2 people on the bridge, and the traditional has 3.
Doing research to find the different blue willow legends
This one comes off the back of the Mary Gaston Blue Willow book (value guide)
Yet another legend:
There are many many many more....
The saddest thing that I learned was that ... the legends did not come first. The legends (and the pattern) originated in England! The plate came first, the legend second as a marketing ploy (obviously, a good one!!)
No one knows what the original legend was ... but we do know that Spode was the first person to design blue willow.
They are mostly in colbolt blue because back then, blue was the only color that could survive the firing process. They used to all be hand painted, then in the late 1700's a way of decorating china and potter called "Transferware" became available ...transfering the design onto the china.
Some designs are hand painted, some are stenciled and some are transfer ware ...
It's all very interesting to look and figure out what is what.
There are very few fakes in Blue Willow ...and those are fakes of manufactures trying to make newer pottery look older. The reality is a blue willow is a blue willow regardless of who makes it. As long as you know your marks, and which ones are actually newer ones, trying to copy older ones ... then you know what you have.
So, no matter what Blue Willow you have, it's still a blue willow. Period.
It is also one that relatively few tried to fake because the pattern is so complicated. Most pottery companies who did it, wanted their own credit for the piece of china or pottery. Since anyone could make one, there was not enough reason to make a forgery. Some did and do ... but it is an attempt to make the collector think they have an older piece. Some of those, are quite valuable because they are few and far inbetween.
Some collectors just get a particular design ...
some from just one company
some get any blue willow (me)
and some collect blue and white china of all designs (flow blue, etc)
I planned on using that memory to write my Nanowrimo novel. My husband and I went to the antique store to get a plate to use as a muse. I got a cup and a plate.
Then, some dear friends surprised me with a birthday present of a miniature tea set!!! I was overwhelmed ...and surprised ...and delighted! My therapist, who collects blue willow, gave me a bread and butter plate to also use as a muse.
So ..suddenly, my love of blue willow went from a love, fond (if embarrasing) memories to a minor collection of this china I loved so much!
Then it kind of ...well ... blew up ... I realized that just because I hadn't been collecting since my childhood (like my elephants) did not mean it was too late to start. I also realized that just because I had an elephant collection did not mean that I could not have my blue willow too!
So now ... I have
2 plates, 10 inches from Churchill England
2 saucers from the Royal China Company (with a mark they used from 1920 to 1949.
1 Soup Bowl from the Royal China Company (same mark)
2 tea cups from Churchill England
1 Saucer frm Churchill England
1 Miniature tea set
4 cups, 4 saucers, tea pot, sugar bowl, creamer jar and cookie plate.
1 Bread and butter plate from The Royal China Company
1 Miniature tea set cookie plate with stamp from Japan (blue)
1 Vase 8 inches tall, with Ironstone stamp on it.
1 Bread and butter plate with stamp from Japan (black)
Plus and elephant in blue and white china, but different pattern.
I really really want to find a blue willow elephant!! Although, I have the feeling that if I did so, it'd be quite costly, the cats and cows are worth a small fortune!
I have enjoyed, as much as acquiring the plates, learning about the different types of blue willow:
Traditional,
Two Temples 1
Two Temples 2
Manderin
Worcster
Burleigh
Turner
Simplified
Polychrome
Canton
The different borders:
Traditional
Butterfly or Insect
Fitzhugh
Bow Knot
Dagger
Scroll and Flowers
Floral
Pictoral
Simple Line
Borderless
And different manufactures used different patterns ... so just because you have a Churchill England, doesn'[t mean the very next Churchill England plate will have the same pattern!!
The vase I have, has a Two Temple's 2 design
while most of the others have a traditional,
Some plates have thin birds, others have fat birds ...some have no birds.
Looking at the different designs for how many people ... the Two Temples 2 has only 2 people on the bridge, and the traditional has 3.
Doing research to find the different blue willow legends
This one comes off the back of the Mary Gaston Blue Willow book (value guide)
The Legend
Once upon a time there lived a very wealthy manderin who had a beautiful
daughter, Hong Shee. There was aslo a boy named Change who loved Hong Shee. To
keep them apart, the manderin imprisoned his daughter in the palace.
One day, she escaped adn the two lovers raced over the bridge to a waiting
boat, her father in hot persuit. They managed to elude the manderin, reach the
boat and sail away.
A storm developed, the boat foundered and the couple were lost at sea. It
is said two love birds immediately appeared thereafter - the spirits of Hong
Shee and Chang.
Another legend goes
"The Willow Legend"
Long ago in China, in a magnificent palace surrounded by
trees, lived a Mandarin, his daughter, Koong-shee, and his secretary, Chang.
Chang and Koong-shee fell in love, but Chang was a commoner and she the daughter
of a noble. Still their love grew as they met beneath a willow tree in the
garden. When the Mandarin discovered their secret, he banished Chang &
imprisoned Koong-shee by encircling the palace with a zig-zag fence.
Then he
promised her hand to another. He had a feast to celebrate and after, when all
fell asleep, Chang crept into the palace and fled with Koong-shee, The Mandarin
awoke and pursued them across the little bridge that spans the river.
The lovers escaped, but soon the Mandarin discovered where they were
hiding and sent his men to kill the couple. They came upon Chang as he was
working his fields and killed him. Koong-shee, who had seen the entire scene
from afar, rushed into the pavilion and set it afire. She was determined to be
with Chang in death as she had been in life.
The gods, looking down on the
tragedy, took pity on the lovers and transformed their souls into a pair of
immortal lovebirds to forever live in the pagoda.
Yet another legend:
The Romantic Fable: Once there was a wealthy Mandarin, who
had a beautiful daughter (Koong-se). She had fallen in love with her father's
humble accounting assistant (Chang), angering her father (it was inappropriate
for them to marry due to their difference in social class). He dismissed the
young man and built a high fence around his house to keep the lovers apart. The
Mandarin was planning for his daughter to marry a powerful Duke. The Duke
arrived by boat to claim his bride, bearing a box of jewels as a gift. The
wedding was to take place on the day the blossom fell from the willow
tree.
On the eve of the daughter's wedding to the Duke, the young accountant,
disguised as a servant, slipped into the palace unnoticed. As the lovers escaped
with the jewels, the alarm was raised. They ran over a bridge, chased by the
Mandarin, whip in hand. They eventually escaped on the Duke's ship to the safety
of a secluded island, where they lived happily for years. But one day, the Duke
learned of their refuge. Hungry for revenge, he sent soldiers, who captured the
lovers and put them to death. The Gods, moved by their plight, transformed the
lovers into a pair of doves (possibly a later addition to the tale, since the
birds do not appear on the earliest willow pattern plates).
Another legend
The old poem:
Two birds flying high,
A Chinese vessel, sailing by.
A bridge with three men, sometimes four,
A willow tree, hanging o'er.
A Chinese temple, there it stands,
Built upon the river sands.
An apple tree, with apples on,
A crooked fence to end my song.
There are many many many more....
The saddest thing that I learned was that ... the legends did not come first. The legends (and the pattern) originated in England! The plate came first, the legend second as a marketing ploy (obviously, a good one!!)
No one knows what the original legend was ... but we do know that Spode was the first person to design blue willow.
They are mostly in colbolt blue because back then, blue was the only color that could survive the firing process. They used to all be hand painted, then in the late 1700's a way of decorating china and potter called "Transferware" became available ...transfering the design onto the china.
Some designs are hand painted, some are stenciled and some are transfer ware ...
It's all very interesting to look and figure out what is what.
There are very few fakes in Blue Willow ...and those are fakes of manufactures trying to make newer pottery look older. The reality is a blue willow is a blue willow regardless of who makes it. As long as you know your marks, and which ones are actually newer ones, trying to copy older ones ... then you know what you have.
So, no matter what Blue Willow you have, it's still a blue willow. Period.
It is also one that relatively few tried to fake because the pattern is so complicated. Most pottery companies who did it, wanted their own credit for the piece of china or pottery. Since anyone could make one, there was not enough reason to make a forgery. Some did and do ... but it is an attempt to make the collector think they have an older piece. Some of those, are quite valuable because they are few and far inbetween.
Some collectors just get a particular design ...
some from just one company
some get any blue willow (me)
and some collect blue and white china of all designs (flow blue, etc)
10 Things
Ten things I hate:
1. People saying "I just don't know how you do it all"
2. People saying "But you don't look sick!" (right after they've 'sincerely asked me "how are you doing ...no! really, how are things REALLY going?" )
3. My cat deciding that I need to get up 3 hours before I'm ready to get up. Seriously, Twitch, I'm 43 years old, I *can* decide when to get up and go to bed!!!
4. People pretending to care.
5. The weather going from spring to winter to spring in 48 hours.
6. People who make 10 times our income saying they understand my struggles with finances. (see #4)
7. People with perfect health saying they know how I feel.
8. Having to have on my happy face when I feel like my world is falling apart or my body feels like it's been run over by a train ... but if I don't ...I get comments like #1, #2 or #7
9. Insomnia
10. The word Autoimmune and all it intails.
Please no comments about how bad you feel for me ... those drive me nuts. If you want to add a list of your own ...go for it! If you have a story about how one of these comments effects you in your life ...go for it!
1. People saying "I just don't know how you do it all"
2. People saying "But you don't look sick!" (right after they've 'sincerely asked me "how are you doing ...no! really, how are things REALLY going?" )
3. My cat deciding that I need to get up 3 hours before I'm ready to get up. Seriously, Twitch, I'm 43 years old, I *can* decide when to get up and go to bed!!!
4. People pretending to care.
5. The weather going from spring to winter to spring in 48 hours.
6. People who make 10 times our income saying they understand my struggles with finances. (see #4)
7. People with perfect health saying they know how I feel.
8. Having to have on my happy face when I feel like my world is falling apart or my body feels like it's been run over by a train ... but if I don't ...I get comments like #1, #2 or #7
9. Insomnia
10. The word Autoimmune and all it intails.
Please no comments about how bad you feel for me ... those drive me nuts. If you want to add a list of your own ...go for it! If you have a story about how one of these comments effects you in your life ...go for it!
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Eating Disordered Awareness, Post # 2
I went to help with SCC Summer Camp (Southpark Community Church) .... the kids program we're having.
I did not look at my manual ... and was a bit shocked to see the plan for tonight ... Picnic ....
The lesson ... just like we need food ...we need spiritual food.
The object lesson at the beginning ... we must eat to stay healthy ... and we must have daily spiritual needs met ...eating just once a week or twice a week ... you'd not feel good or stay healthy ... so why would that be ok for spiritual needs?
But the emphasis was on the balance of the two.
It of coarse, hit me far different than it would have hit most of the adults in there. I'm sure, our children's pastor had no idea that I was ready to bolt from the room ...
It took every ounce of self control to stay in my seat and make myself listen to the lesson.
My heart was broke, when 2 girls, pre teen aged (the oldest is 6th graders in the children's ministry, so they had to be 6th grade or below) made a comment to each other. The girls were asked how many had had a snack that day. The two girls raised their hands but looked at each other and said "I was bad"
My heart lept into my throat. Then, during the game, where they had food to eat, the two girls DID participate, but I watched the one girl take BITES off of a cheese cracker! She counted the bites as she chewed, I watched her fingers as they tapped off the bites.
It was amazing watching such a young child already participating in compulsive behaviors involving food ... and the realization that no one in her life is probably even aware ... SHE may not even be aware ... she may just be 'counting' and sorting her way through ...but if someone doesn't step in, an eating disorder is in her future.
I came to a realization a while back ...that God does not intend for food, eating or the things around it to be just a side issue ... he intended for us to
A) eat
B) eat together
C) enjoy food
He ordered the Isrealites to celebrate with food, to mourn with food ...and these celebrations and mourning ..were NATION wide ....
even the life and death of Christ, was to be remembered ...with food. (this do, in rememberance of me)
I did a search once on scriptures relating to food ... I'd honestly expected to get maybe ...100
my shock when (from Crosswalk.com) I found these numbers .... was to say the least ..astonished:
for EAT ... I found
Verse Search Results (New International Version)
RESULTS: 476 total results
for FOOD I found
Verse Search Results (New International Version)
RESULTS: 305 total results
for ATE I found
Verse Search Results (New International Version)
RESULTS: 102 total results
for EATING I found
Verse Search Results (New International Version)
RESULTS: 55 total results
for FEAST I found
Verse Search Results (New International Version)
RESULTS: 90 total results
for EATEN I found
Verse Search Results (New International Version)
RESULTS: 62 total results
and to end this diatribe ... I will end with a verse that includes "Celebrate" and "Eat"
Ne 8: 10 -12 - 10 Nehemiah said, "Go and enjoy choice food and sweet drinks, and send some to those who have nothing prepared. This day is sacred to our Lord. Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength." 11 The Levites calmed all the people, saying, "Be still, for this is a sacred day. Do not grieve." 12 Then all the people went away to eat and drink, to send portions of food and to celebrate with great joy, because they now understood the words that had been made known to them.
I did not look at my manual ... and was a bit shocked to see the plan for tonight ... Picnic ....
The lesson ... just like we need food ...we need spiritual food.
The object lesson at the beginning ... we must eat to stay healthy ... and we must have daily spiritual needs met ...eating just once a week or twice a week ... you'd not feel good or stay healthy ... so why would that be ok for spiritual needs?
But the emphasis was on the balance of the two.
It of coarse, hit me far different than it would have hit most of the adults in there. I'm sure, our children's pastor had no idea that I was ready to bolt from the room ...
It took every ounce of self control to stay in my seat and make myself listen to the lesson.
My heart was broke, when 2 girls, pre teen aged (the oldest is 6th graders in the children's ministry, so they had to be 6th grade or below) made a comment to each other. The girls were asked how many had had a snack that day. The two girls raised their hands but looked at each other and said "I was bad"
My heart lept into my throat. Then, during the game, where they had food to eat, the two girls DID participate, but I watched the one girl take BITES off of a cheese cracker! She counted the bites as she chewed, I watched her fingers as they tapped off the bites.
It was amazing watching such a young child already participating in compulsive behaviors involving food ... and the realization that no one in her life is probably even aware ... SHE may not even be aware ... she may just be 'counting' and sorting her way through ...but if someone doesn't step in, an eating disorder is in her future.
I came to a realization a while back ...that God does not intend for food, eating or the things around it to be just a side issue ... he intended for us to
A) eat
B) eat together
C) enjoy food
He ordered the Isrealites to celebrate with food, to mourn with food ...and these celebrations and mourning ..were NATION wide ....
even the life and death of Christ, was to be remembered ...with food. (this do, in rememberance of me)
I did a search once on scriptures relating to food ... I'd honestly expected to get maybe ...100
my shock when (from Crosswalk.com) I found these numbers .... was to say the least ..astonished:
for EAT ... I found
Verse Search Results (New International Version)
RESULTS: 476 total results
for FOOD I found
Verse Search Results (New International Version)
RESULTS: 305 total results
for ATE I found
Verse Search Results (New International Version)
RESULTS: 102 total results
for EATING I found
Verse Search Results (New International Version)
RESULTS: 55 total results
for FEAST I found
Verse Search Results (New International Version)
RESULTS: 90 total results
for EATEN I found
Verse Search Results (New International Version)
RESULTS: 62 total results
and to end this diatribe ... I will end with a verse that includes "Celebrate" and "Eat"
Ne 8: 10 -12 - 10 Nehemiah said, "Go and enjoy choice food and sweet drinks, and send some to those who have nothing prepared. This day is sacred to our Lord. Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength." 11 The Levites calmed all the people, saying, "Be still, for this is a sacred day. Do not grieve." 12 Then all the people went away to eat and drink, to send portions of food and to celebrate with great joy, because they now understood the words that had been made known to them.
Eating Disorder Awareness Week
I had to wear a dress for a concert.
Everyone had the same dress.
Mine didn't fit me quite right.
The concert was a month away. Maybe ...just maybe ...if I cut down on what I was eating ... I could make it fit right?
I didn't know that my mom had already gotten discouraged with how quickly I was growing that summer, and bought it a size too big.
Mom left for work before I did. My sister, D, was up and out of the house before me. She always had some sporting practice that started before school. So ... it was easy ... I'd get up in the morning and I'd make my lunch and not eat breakfast.
I thought at first, it was going to be hard ... it wasn't.
I didn't even miss it.
After the first week, I found that I wasn't even slightly hungry mid way through the day.
So I wondered ...how much of my lunch could I cut out?
The next week, I purposefully only ate half my lunch.
I still remember loosing focus that week at lunch.
All I could think of was what I was putting in my mouth ..and what I wasn't putting in my mouth.
By that Friday, I was counting the bites I took.
My friends conversations were swirling around me, but I couldn't really hear them, I could only hear my food being chewed ...and wish that I wasn't eating it.
The next week, I started to pack only half a lunch to take.
I thought maybe that would make it less stressful and maybe I could enjoy my lunch ... I wouldn't be counting the bites.
I'd just sit there and eat knowing I only had half a lunch to eat.
I got to school and at lunch that Monday, I sat down, laughing with my friends.
I pulled out my half of a sandwhich. I stared at it.
I suddenly felt my head spin ... my ears couldn't hear ...and I took the first bite ...and then the second.
I counted the bites as I finished my lunch.
Half a sandwich, half an apple and 1 cookie.
By Friday, I decided the stress of eating lunch was too great ...I'd rather sit there with my friends and visit than eat lunch in a panic zone.
So, the next week ...no breakfast and no lunch.
The only meal I had to worry about was dinner. My mom and sister were around for that. Knowing I had not eaten all day, and just my mom and sister were around made eating dinner a little less stressful than what I'd experienced.
The day of the concert came ..and I went to put on the dress ... something terrible happened.
The dress still didn't fit.
It was way too big, but I didn't see it that way.
All I could tell is that it didn't fit ... and in my mind, that meant I'd gained weight ..how could I have done that?
I must have made an absolute pig of myself!!!
I determined to buckle down, I would find ways to cut down on what I was eating during dinner time.
Mom was always on a diet.
She wouldn't mind me making healthy changes to my dinner.
But she'd have to not guess that I'd been skipping my breakfast and lunch.
So, every morning, I'd make breakfast and pour it down the garbage disposal, making sure that egg shells or a pc of cereal stayed in the sink for tale tell signs. I'd make my lunch and feed it to the dogs.
That way the food supply appropriately dissapated.
My weight went down, and people noticed.
I got complemented ..and every complement was an insult ...Peggikaye! you're loosing weight!
You look good!
Was translated in my brain as "Peggikaye, it's about time you stopped looking like a beached whale!"
I didn't know that I'd stared on a road I couldn't stop.
I didn't know I didn't just start a plan to get into a dress, that was already too big ... a short term fix ... it would become a lifelong battle.
A battle with a mirror that would lie to me,
and a body that would be destroyed by the betrayal of it's owner.
The eating disorder started within months of the death of Daddy ...
and is still something that I struggle with today.
I didnt' seek help till I was 36.
By then, I had scars in my esophogus, polyps in my throat, teeth that are shot ... and who knows what else.
*************************************************************
I wrote that a couple of years ago. May 1, 2006.
At that point in time, I was in an OK place, thoughts were coming hard and fast with "if you just skip a little ... it'll be better, less stressful ..."
*I* thought ... that I was doing ok ...and in June of 2006, I went to church camp as a counselor for the youth group. I went with who was, at the time, a new friend.
She and I have become quite close ...and I've shared things with her I never thought I'd share ... but back then, we were just starting to get to know each other.
I can remember sitting in the cafeteria and staring at the food, and then 'tackling' eating it.
I thought, I'd done a good job ..but that I'd eaten a ton .... only, as my friend Allyson and I got to know each other, she shared with me her concerns for that week. She wondered how I could be eating so little ... how could that be healthy?
Then ...we started to build our house in September ... and my struggle to keep from relapsing, which, was obviously not going as well as I thought ... came crashing down.
As I struggled with the attention suddenly thrust on me ... for house, family and published book .. I became frightened and withdrew into the only coping mechanism I knew.
A year later, my lab work was a mess ... malnutrition and definitely NOT loosing weight ...
when you have polycystic ovarian disease with insulin resistance the only way you're going to loose weight is to do it properly ...otherwise the body hangs on to each and every calorie it can.
So .. in November I had to face, I was literally killing myself ... slowly, but surely.
It had not dawned on me that *I* Peggikaye, could die from this disease. Not after so many years ... and yet, I was faced with lab work that was just short of dangerous ....
My kidneys were not going to make it much longer if I didn't do something.
It still took me a bit to start to eat again ... and then, got stuck on prednisone ...that'll do it.
Prednisone ...that dreaded drug ...that caused me to gain my weight to begin with ... and here I was ..on it for the forseeable future ... and I ate ..knowing that this, is my chance in therapy to get eating right and dealing with things so that when I went off, I didn't go back to restricting.
I went to the doctor today ...braced myself for the 15 to 20 pound weight gain that was all but certain ....
and the scale stopped .. just 2 pounds higher than where I'd been in November.
Um ... holiday ... prednisone ... and ... 2 pounds.
It struck me ... maybe, just maybe the eating right ... is keeping a balance .... and ... when I get off the drug, if I can keep it up ... it will come off ... as effortlessly as not gaining has happened on prednisone.
Everyone had the same dress.
Mine didn't fit me quite right.
The concert was a month away. Maybe ...just maybe ...if I cut down on what I was eating ... I could make it fit right?
I didn't know that my mom had already gotten discouraged with how quickly I was growing that summer, and bought it a size too big.
Mom left for work before I did. My sister, D, was up and out of the house before me. She always had some sporting practice that started before school. So ... it was easy ... I'd get up in the morning and I'd make my lunch and not eat breakfast.
I thought at first, it was going to be hard ... it wasn't.
I didn't even miss it.
After the first week, I found that I wasn't even slightly hungry mid way through the day.
So I wondered ...how much of my lunch could I cut out?
The next week, I purposefully only ate half my lunch.
I still remember loosing focus that week at lunch.
All I could think of was what I was putting in my mouth ..and what I wasn't putting in my mouth.
By that Friday, I was counting the bites I took.
My friends conversations were swirling around me, but I couldn't really hear them, I could only hear my food being chewed ...and wish that I wasn't eating it.
The next week, I started to pack only half a lunch to take.
I thought maybe that would make it less stressful and maybe I could enjoy my lunch ... I wouldn't be counting the bites.
I'd just sit there and eat knowing I only had half a lunch to eat.
I got to school and at lunch that Monday, I sat down, laughing with my friends.
I pulled out my half of a sandwhich. I stared at it.
I suddenly felt my head spin ... my ears couldn't hear ...and I took the first bite ...and then the second.
I counted the bites as I finished my lunch.
Half a sandwich, half an apple and 1 cookie.
By Friday, I decided the stress of eating lunch was too great ...I'd rather sit there with my friends and visit than eat lunch in a panic zone.
So, the next week ...no breakfast and no lunch.
The only meal I had to worry about was dinner. My mom and sister were around for that. Knowing I had not eaten all day, and just my mom and sister were around made eating dinner a little less stressful than what I'd experienced.
The day of the concert came ..and I went to put on the dress ... something terrible happened.
The dress still didn't fit.
It was way too big, but I didn't see it that way.
All I could tell is that it didn't fit ... and in my mind, that meant I'd gained weight ..how could I have done that?
I must have made an absolute pig of myself!!!
I determined to buckle down, I would find ways to cut down on what I was eating during dinner time.
Mom was always on a diet.
She wouldn't mind me making healthy changes to my dinner.
But she'd have to not guess that I'd been skipping my breakfast and lunch.
So, every morning, I'd make breakfast and pour it down the garbage disposal, making sure that egg shells or a pc of cereal stayed in the sink for tale tell signs. I'd make my lunch and feed it to the dogs.
That way the food supply appropriately dissapated.
My weight went down, and people noticed.
I got complemented ..and every complement was an insult ...Peggikaye! you're loosing weight!
You look good!
Was translated in my brain as "Peggikaye, it's about time you stopped looking like a beached whale!"
I didn't know that I'd stared on a road I couldn't stop.
I didn't know I didn't just start a plan to get into a dress, that was already too big ... a short term fix ... it would become a lifelong battle.
A battle with a mirror that would lie to me,
and a body that would be destroyed by the betrayal of it's owner.
The eating disorder started within months of the death of Daddy ...
and is still something that I struggle with today.
I didnt' seek help till I was 36.
By then, I had scars in my esophogus, polyps in my throat, teeth that are shot ... and who knows what else.
*************************************************************
I wrote that a couple of years ago. May 1, 2006.
At that point in time, I was in an OK place, thoughts were coming hard and fast with "if you just skip a little ... it'll be better, less stressful ..."
*I* thought ... that I was doing ok ...and in June of 2006, I went to church camp as a counselor for the youth group. I went with who was, at the time, a new friend.
She and I have become quite close ...and I've shared things with her I never thought I'd share ... but back then, we were just starting to get to know each other.
I can remember sitting in the cafeteria and staring at the food, and then 'tackling' eating it.
I thought, I'd done a good job ..but that I'd eaten a ton .... only, as my friend Allyson and I got to know each other, she shared with me her concerns for that week. She wondered how I could be eating so little ... how could that be healthy?
Then ...we started to build our house in September ... and my struggle to keep from relapsing, which, was obviously not going as well as I thought ... came crashing down.
As I struggled with the attention suddenly thrust on me ... for house, family and published book .. I became frightened and withdrew into the only coping mechanism I knew.
A year later, my lab work was a mess ... malnutrition and definitely NOT loosing weight ...
when you have polycystic ovarian disease with insulin resistance the only way you're going to loose weight is to do it properly ...otherwise the body hangs on to each and every calorie it can.
So .. in November I had to face, I was literally killing myself ... slowly, but surely.
It had not dawned on me that *I* Peggikaye, could die from this disease. Not after so many years ... and yet, I was faced with lab work that was just short of dangerous ....
My kidneys were not going to make it much longer if I didn't do something.
It still took me a bit to start to eat again ... and then, got stuck on prednisone ...that'll do it.
Prednisone ...that dreaded drug ...that caused me to gain my weight to begin with ... and here I was ..on it for the forseeable future ... and I ate ..knowing that this, is my chance in therapy to get eating right and dealing with things so that when I went off, I didn't go back to restricting.
I went to the doctor today ...braced myself for the 15 to 20 pound weight gain that was all but certain ....
and the scale stopped .. just 2 pounds higher than where I'd been in November.
Um ... holiday ... prednisone ... and ... 2 pounds.
It struck me ... maybe, just maybe the eating right ... is keeping a balance .... and ... when I get off the drug, if I can keep it up ... it will come off ... as effortlessly as not gaining has happened on prednisone.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
ACK
I just posted about my absence from the blog world ... dead computer ....and how we got computerized again ... stole sons computer .... and the post disappeared.
I was about to post about Eating Disorder Awareness week ... but lost it.
So, for now, I will just let everyone know I'm back ...
when I get some alone time, I'll do an ED awareness post.
I was about to post about Eating Disorder Awareness week ... but lost it.
So, for now, I will just let everyone know I'm back ...
when I get some alone time, I'll do an ED awareness post.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Casting Crowns
Tomorrow night ... I go see Casting Crowns ... got free tickets through Habitat for Humanity & Casting Crowns ...
They have no idea what a gift they've given me.
They have no idea what a gift they've given me.
Casting Crowns - Praise You In This Storm
I get to see Casting Crown's Tomorrow night!
Got the call this morning, tickets available for me, through Habitat .... Casting Crown's gives tickets to groups like Habitat in cities to ensure that some people who might not otherwise afford to go get to go. They gave some to Habitat. Most of the tickets had been given away ...but this morning they still needed 3 more to give away or give back. Someone in the office asked if we'd been asked.
We hadn't.
Do we want to go
YES!!!!!!!!! I've been praying for a way to figure out how to go.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Saturday, February 02, 2008
Friday, February 01, 2008
Salvation Army Treasure hunt
bad picture ...but ...This one goes into both collections ..blue and white china AND my elephants. (although it is not an official blue and white pattern and obviously not a blue willow close enough for government work!)
move along
Test ..test ...this is just a test ... move along to more interesting posts. Nothing to see here ....
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Birthday Wishes
Today's post is a conglomeration of previous posts about my step father and I. Today, would have been his birthday.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Darling, wake up!"
I woke slowly up and saw my Daddy's face grinning at me. What in the world? The sky was dark, lots of stars, no moon.
"Shhhhhh Don't wake your mom or sisters!"
My step sister Celda, his second to youngest, daughter, not Linda; she'd already gone back to live with her mother years before, and my sister were asleep in the next room.
I was totally confused. He told me to dress warm, and to bring my blanket.
What?
He left the room for me to get dressed.
I was in the third grade, and it was so strange. Daddy was always up to something strange. He and I shared many many secrets ...all of them made me laugh. So ... I wiped the sleep from my eyes and put my clothes on.
I took my blanket and went into the kitchen. I had my favorite slippers on instead of my shoes. Daddy was waiting at the table. He shined a flashlight in my face and then his, and said in a really weird voice "are we ready freddy?"
I had no idea ..but hey!
So, I followed him outside and there was a ladder leading up to the roof ... huh?
He took my blanket and shined the flashlight on the ladder.
"Climb up!"
"REALLY?!"
We'd been up there the week before doing some repairs. So, I was familiar with how to climb up safely ...but at night?
He shined the light on his face and gave me a cartoon grin.
So, up the ladder I went. He stood close enough to me so that I knew I was safe.
I got up there and saw, on the flat of the roof ... a blanket, a camping lantern, a picnic basket and a couple of pillows.
I looked down at my Daddy ...and he smiled. I stood aside to let him come up. I started to walk to the blanket and Daddy said
"Don't move till I get up there, I know you feel safe, but without light, you might not be, you need me near you!"
So, he gets there, and we walk to the blanket. His pillow and blanket were already up there, and a pillow for me.
In the basket ...a thermos of hot chocolate, and a bowl of popcorn. How did he pop that without waking anyone up! Smell or noise? Suddenly, I realized I could smell it in the house, I just had been so confused by his midnight games, I hadn't paid attention.
"Daddy, what are we doing?"
"Watch! About 3 minutes later a shooting star ... and within seconds ...another ...and before I knew it ... I was watching my first meteor shower!!!
We ate the popcorn and drank the hot chocolate and when the bowl was empty and the ooohs and ahhhs and "look Daddy's!" were getting to be redundant ... we laid there and watched ... and watched ... and all too soon ...the stars fell with less frequency.
Then we went about 5 minutes in total silence between us ... and not a single star fell ....just the sounds of the night in the mountains ... and the song of love between a father and daughter ...
"Darling, it's over"
"I know"
"Darling, I love you"
"I know Daddy, I love you."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's springtime. Springtime will always bring memories of my step dad, my Daddy. Ok I might as well face it, just about anything will bring up memories of him. He was rather precious to me.
But springtime. He loved to garden.
Where I grew up, in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada's, right outside of Yosemite National Park, we had 2 acres. A large part of that 2 acres was our vegetable garden.
It was the responsibility of Daddy and me to make sure it got planted, weeded and harvested. From the first year we lived there, till we moved away when I was in the 8th grade. It was our garden.
When I was little, 1st grade, I didn't quite get all that gardening took. I understood quite a bit about things, and occasionally, my parents assumed I knew things I didn't know ..Which usually lead to trouble.
In the case of gardening, it was no exception.
Dad and I worked hard to work the soil. It hadn't been used as a garden before, so lots of tilling had to be done. We had to till it a couple of times to make sure it was ready to grow the vegetables we were going to plant. Then we had to make the rows. Each row, was slightly different than the other, it would depend on what vegetable was going to go where. Some rows were farther apart than others. Very narrow rows where the radishes, carrots, green onions go, but very wide where the squash, pumpkins, and eggplant goes.
We had the ground tilled, the rows made, then we went in and made individual little 'pockets in the ground. "not necessarily necessary, but just a bit of extra depth" Dad would say, each year. That year, I had no clue what he meant.
Then, we'd walk by each row, and stick a stick at the end of the row. On the stick, was a packet of seeds(empty) with what was going to go into that row so we'd know what we were growing there. I had fun doing that. Daddy held the stick while I pounded the stick into the ground.
Then Dad grabbed the full packets of seeds and put them in his pockets, he started to walk down the rows, but he was trailing the seeds behind him!!! Oh NO! We can't have that! We'll LOOSE THEM ALL!!
Down the squash row, down the onion rows, down the radish rows, carrots and cucumber rows, we get half way down the tomato rows and I burst into tears. Daddy turned around and said "Darling! What's wrong!"
He sees me with my hands full of seeds and I see his eyes about pop out of his head, but his voice stays calm. I cry and cry "I tried to save all your seeds, but my hands are too small!"
My Daddy picked me up and hugged me and decided to explain gardening to me, start to finish.
We took 3 rows, and planted the mishmash of seeds to see what would happen. We called it 'mixed vegetables'. Then, we started over with re - planting the other rows.
Very few of the veggies in the mixed vegetables grew, except the radishes. That became my favorite in the garden. From then on, every year, the radishes were my responsibility. Start to finish. No one was allowed to harvest them but me. It's funny now, but Mom and Dad would serve radishes at the table on a day that I hadn't 'given my permission' and they'd tell me that they'd gone to the store and I'd actually buy that story ! (the things parents will tell kids to keep their smiles on their faces!)
I miss Daddy. I know why I can understand God's love for us though. Daddy did such a thorough job of showing me ... Sometimes God goes in front of us, having planned it all out carefully, and all we have to do is follow in his footsteps, but we're afraid he's not doing it right, that he's dropping something. So we have to help him. So we pick up the seeds he's sowing. We keep picking them up until we're so desperate and we're exhausted we have no choice but to cry out "Abba!My hands are too small!"
And Abba Father will pick us up, hold us in his arms. Then he'll take us, help us replant those mishmash seeds to watch it grow. Then we can see what crop shows up. Somehow, with childlike wonder, we will latch onto that harvest with a passion that will carry us through. It might even become something that is precious to us forever. I wrote a poem a long time ago about this, but blogger is being stubborn today and won't let me post it in format. So, if you'll go back to this post from last Father's Day, you can read the poem.
My Dad's Shadow
My dad had a shadow,
It followed him all year long,
During the winter, it would go behind,
And throw snow at his back,
During the spring, it would follow him,
Out to the garden to pick up the seeds,
He 'accidently' dropped.
In summertime it would follow him to work,
And make more messes.
In the fall it would go behind,
Jumping in the piles of leaves he had raked.
The one spring he turned around
No shadow could be found,
Only I was standing there,
With a grin on my face and some seeds,
in my hand,
For you see ... the shadow that my dad had,
Was not a shadow at all,
IT WAS ME!
© Peggikaye Eagler
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Woodpeckers follow the link.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Monday, February 27, 2006
Strong Reactions
Yesterday at church they introduced a new song. I wonder what the reaction to it was. I know what the reaction in the worship team was when it was first sang ... we had a 50/50 reaction to one line. Half of us REALLY loved it. Half REALLY disliked it. I shared what it meant to me ... ended the discussion all together. But, if half the worship team had such a strong reaction to that one phrase ..what was the reaction to the congregation??? I'm going to just put in part of the song ...
"You reign victorious, High and lifted up, Jesus, Son of God, The Darling of Heaven, Crucified, Worthy is the Lamb"
The Darling of Heaven ...
Never heard Christ described that way and the reaction was strong and immediate.
For me ... it brought immediately to mind my beloved step father who died when I was 14. His encouragement when my heart was breaking. His deep love for me. His ability to reach my heart when no one else could. His looking me in the eye when the school bully had shattered my heart ...yet again. His taking me in his arms and loving me when a family member had rejected me ...yet again. His putting me in a place of honor, and showing me that he thought I was precious.
When my heart was shattered and he knew that only he could fix it, he'd start the conversation with "Darling, you know how much I love you" or "Darling, I'm sorry they hurt you" "Darling, I love you so much"
Darling ... I was my Daddy's Darling ... it was a priviledge place to be. A place of honor. None of my friends, as much as he liked my friends, could take that place. None of my cousins, as much as he loved my cousins, could take that place. When my heart was breaking, not even one of my sisters, could take that place. At that moment in time, I was DARLING ..the focus of my Father's world.
The Darling of Heaven Crucified.
The Heavenly Father's Darling son ... the son ... in a place of honor, a son so very precious, that all the hope of the world was put in him. A son, who the Father loved so much!
When I think of Christ as the Father's DARLING SON crucified ... and in think of what it meant to be my Daddy's Darling ...
How incredible ... The Darling of Heaven Crucified ...
How much more precious did that make that sacrifice ? God was willing to let his own son, become flesh, and bear pain, and experience things that he really had no real need to experience ...so that I, Peggikaye Eagler, could come into HIS presence, and have Fellowship with him.
The Darling of Heaven ...
How precious, how incredible.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
Letter to Daddy, 2006
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
Happy Birthday Daddy, you are forever missed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Darling, wake up!"
I woke slowly up and saw my Daddy's face grinning at me. What in the world? The sky was dark, lots of stars, no moon.
"Shhhhhh Don't wake your mom or sisters!"
My step sister Celda, his second to youngest, daughter, not Linda; she'd already gone back to live with her mother years before, and my sister were asleep in the next room.
I was totally confused. He told me to dress warm, and to bring my blanket.
What?
He left the room for me to get dressed.
I was in the third grade, and it was so strange. Daddy was always up to something strange. He and I shared many many secrets ...all of them made me laugh. So ... I wiped the sleep from my eyes and put my clothes on.
I took my blanket and went into the kitchen. I had my favorite slippers on instead of my shoes. Daddy was waiting at the table. He shined a flashlight in my face and then his, and said in a really weird voice "are we ready freddy?"
I had no idea ..but hey!
So, I followed him outside and there was a ladder leading up to the roof ... huh?
He took my blanket and shined the flashlight on the ladder.
"Climb up!"
"REALLY?!"
We'd been up there the week before doing some repairs. So, I was familiar with how to climb up safely ...but at night?
He shined the light on his face and gave me a cartoon grin.
So, up the ladder I went. He stood close enough to me so that I knew I was safe.
I got up there and saw, on the flat of the roof ... a blanket, a camping lantern, a picnic basket and a couple of pillows.
I looked down at my Daddy ...and he smiled. I stood aside to let him come up. I started to walk to the blanket and Daddy said
"Don't move till I get up there, I know you feel safe, but without light, you might not be, you need me near you!"
So, he gets there, and we walk to the blanket. His pillow and blanket were already up there, and a pillow for me.
In the basket ...a thermos of hot chocolate, and a bowl of popcorn. How did he pop that without waking anyone up! Smell or noise? Suddenly, I realized I could smell it in the house, I just had been so confused by his midnight games, I hadn't paid attention.
"Daddy, what are we doing?"
"Watch! About 3 minutes later a shooting star ... and within seconds ...another ...and before I knew it ... I was watching my first meteor shower!!!
We ate the popcorn and drank the hot chocolate and when the bowl was empty and the ooohs and ahhhs and "look Daddy's!" were getting to be redundant ... we laid there and watched ... and watched ... and all too soon ...the stars fell with less frequency.
Then we went about 5 minutes in total silence between us ... and not a single star fell ....just the sounds of the night in the mountains ... and the song of love between a father and daughter ...
"Darling, it's over"
"I know"
"Darling, I love you"
"I know Daddy, I love you."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's springtime. Springtime will always bring memories of my step dad, my Daddy. Ok I might as well face it, just about anything will bring up memories of him. He was rather precious to me.
But springtime. He loved to garden.
Where I grew up, in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada's, right outside of Yosemite National Park, we had 2 acres. A large part of that 2 acres was our vegetable garden.
It was the responsibility of Daddy and me to make sure it got planted, weeded and harvested. From the first year we lived there, till we moved away when I was in the 8th grade. It was our garden.
When I was little, 1st grade, I didn't quite get all that gardening took. I understood quite a bit about things, and occasionally, my parents assumed I knew things I didn't know ..Which usually lead to trouble.
In the case of gardening, it was no exception.
Dad and I worked hard to work the soil. It hadn't been used as a garden before, so lots of tilling had to be done. We had to till it a couple of times to make sure it was ready to grow the vegetables we were going to plant. Then we had to make the rows. Each row, was slightly different than the other, it would depend on what vegetable was going to go where. Some rows were farther apart than others. Very narrow rows where the radishes, carrots, green onions go, but very wide where the squash, pumpkins, and eggplant goes.
We had the ground tilled, the rows made, then we went in and made individual little 'pockets in the ground. "not necessarily necessary, but just a bit of extra depth" Dad would say, each year. That year, I had no clue what he meant.
Then, we'd walk by each row, and stick a stick at the end of the row. On the stick, was a packet of seeds(empty) with what was going to go into that row so we'd know what we were growing there. I had fun doing that. Daddy held the stick while I pounded the stick into the ground.
Then Dad grabbed the full packets of seeds and put them in his pockets, he started to walk down the rows, but he was trailing the seeds behind him!!! Oh NO! We can't have that! We'll LOOSE THEM ALL!!
Down the squash row, down the onion rows, down the radish rows, carrots and cucumber rows, we get half way down the tomato rows and I burst into tears. Daddy turned around and said "Darling! What's wrong!"
He sees me with my hands full of seeds and I see his eyes about pop out of his head, but his voice stays calm. I cry and cry "I tried to save all your seeds, but my hands are too small!"
My Daddy picked me up and hugged me and decided to explain gardening to me, start to finish.
We took 3 rows, and planted the mishmash of seeds to see what would happen. We called it 'mixed vegetables'. Then, we started over with re - planting the other rows.
Very few of the veggies in the mixed vegetables grew, except the radishes. That became my favorite in the garden. From then on, every year, the radishes were my responsibility. Start to finish. No one was allowed to harvest them but me. It's funny now, but Mom and Dad would serve radishes at the table on a day that I hadn't 'given my permission' and they'd tell me that they'd gone to the store and I'd actually buy that story ! (the things parents will tell kids to keep their smiles on their faces!)
I miss Daddy. I know why I can understand God's love for us though. Daddy did such a thorough job of showing me ... Sometimes God goes in front of us, having planned it all out carefully, and all we have to do is follow in his footsteps, but we're afraid he's not doing it right, that he's dropping something. So we have to help him. So we pick up the seeds he's sowing. We keep picking them up until we're so desperate and we're exhausted we have no choice but to cry out "Abba!My hands are too small!"
And Abba Father will pick us up, hold us in his arms. Then he'll take us, help us replant those mishmash seeds to watch it grow. Then we can see what crop shows up. Somehow, with childlike wonder, we will latch onto that harvest with a passion that will carry us through. It might even become something that is precious to us forever. I wrote a poem a long time ago about this, but blogger is being stubborn today and won't let me post it in format. So, if you'll go back to this post from last Father's Day, you can read the poem.
My Dad's Shadow
My dad had a shadow,
It followed him all year long,
During the winter, it would go behind,
And throw snow at his back,
During the spring, it would follow him,
Out to the garden to pick up the seeds,
He 'accidently' dropped.
In summertime it would follow him to work,
And make more messes.
In the fall it would go behind,
Jumping in the piles of leaves he had raked.
The one spring he turned around
No shadow could be found,
Only I was standing there,
With a grin on my face and some seeds,
in my hand,
For you see ... the shadow that my dad had,
Was not a shadow at all,
IT WAS ME!
© Peggikaye Eagler
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Woodpeckers follow the link.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Monday, February 27, 2006
Strong Reactions
Yesterday at church they introduced a new song. I wonder what the reaction to it was. I know what the reaction in the worship team was when it was first sang ... we had a 50/50 reaction to one line. Half of us REALLY loved it. Half REALLY disliked it. I shared what it meant to me ... ended the discussion all together. But, if half the worship team had such a strong reaction to that one phrase ..what was the reaction to the congregation??? I'm going to just put in part of the song ...
"You reign victorious, High and lifted up, Jesus, Son of God, The Darling of Heaven, Crucified, Worthy is the Lamb"
The Darling of Heaven ...
Never heard Christ described that way and the reaction was strong and immediate.
For me ... it brought immediately to mind my beloved step father who died when I was 14. His encouragement when my heart was breaking. His deep love for me. His ability to reach my heart when no one else could. His looking me in the eye when the school bully had shattered my heart ...yet again. His taking me in his arms and loving me when a family member had rejected me ...yet again. His putting me in a place of honor, and showing me that he thought I was precious.
When my heart was shattered and he knew that only he could fix it, he'd start the conversation with "Darling, you know how much I love you" or "Darling, I'm sorry they hurt you" "Darling, I love you so much"
Darling ... I was my Daddy's Darling ... it was a priviledge place to be. A place of honor. None of my friends, as much as he liked my friends, could take that place. None of my cousins, as much as he loved my cousins, could take that place. When my heart was breaking, not even one of my sisters, could take that place. At that moment in time, I was DARLING ..the focus of my Father's world.
The Darling of Heaven Crucified.
The Heavenly Father's Darling son ... the son ... in a place of honor, a son so very precious, that all the hope of the world was put in him. A son, who the Father loved so much!
When I think of Christ as the Father's DARLING SON crucified ... and in think of what it meant to be my Daddy's Darling ...
How incredible ... The Darling of Heaven Crucified ...
How much more precious did that make that sacrifice ? God was willing to let his own son, become flesh, and bear pain, and experience things that he really had no real need to experience ...so that I, Peggikaye Eagler, could come into HIS presence, and have Fellowship with him.
The Darling of Heaven ...
How precious, how incredible.
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Letter to Daddy, 2006
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Happy Birthday Daddy, you are forever missed.
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