My Life is a Book

Here's a story I've been looking forward to telling you since the day I started this blog. It's the next chapter in my love story with Bill. (Did you even remember that we had a love story?)

In the last chapter, I told you what I endured in order to get a clean bill of health so that we could start trying to conceive. It was such a relief to have the waiting behind me at last, and so exciting to wonder if this could be the month. During this time, I was memorizing Psalm 139, and I was in awe of the timing. As I slowly worked through the chapter, verse by verse, it seemed that the verse I was currently memorizing almost always was the perfect one for what I was experiencing at that moment.

Here is an email that I sent to my Thursday group back in 2004 that captures my initial anticipation...

4/9/04

I was having my morning break today, meditating as usual on the SAME passage I've been studying for months, when I saw something new.

As you know, now that I have passed the colonoscopy, we are free to start trying for a baby, and we are, though Bill doesn't technically know yet. (He's ready, so that's not an issue.) I quietly stopped taking my pill this month, and the knowledge that we could be making a baby is a precious little secret in my heart.

Well, I was meditating on my verses and I stopped on Ps 139:13: "For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb." I wish you could have seen the little smile on my face. I think it must have looked like Mona Lisa's smile, a private smile over a secret only she knew. It seemed so incredibly...INCREDIBLE and WONDERFUL that at this VERY moment, God could be knitting together a baby in my womb.

So I talked to God about that. I asked him for his perfect timing and his will, even if his will is no baby at all. At this moment, at least, I am feeling perfectly at peace with the waiting and the uncertainty because I know that God ordained all my days, and he knows what's best for me. I wish I could keep this moment forever.

Anyway, I thought I would share. Please be in prayer with me that I will continue to seek God's will in this and not become impatient like I usually do about everything else in my life.

Oh, how well I knew myself! Fast forward a year...

Here I Am on My 35th Birthday - April 2005

5/18/05

Hello everyone. I'm missing you a lot this week. I've been feeling sad, a deep sense of grief, really, as I've been trying to let go of the dream of having a baby. I just don't want to hope any more. It hurts too much when I start my period each month. This past month I didn't hope at all, and it still hurt when I started my period yesterday.

With each passing month (15 of them now), I feel more certain that Bill and I will never share that joy together. I have tried so hard to honestly give up that desire because I know that God's plan is best for me. Maybe we will have a baby, and if we do it will be at the perfect time, according to his plan. Sometimes I think I am at peace with just asking God for his will continually, and trying not to decide for myself what I want.

The problem with that is the not knowing. I keep thinking, "If I could just KNOW what God's plan is, it would be so much better." If I KNEW there would be no baby, I would grieve, and I would go on and be thankful for what I do have. And if I knew that in x months or years we would have a baby, I would spend the time preparing to be the best mother I could be, and just enjoying the anticipation. But I don't know what's going to happen, so I keep preparing for the worst. I keep telling myself how it wouldn't be so bad not to have a baby, how wonderful our life is already. I can almost believe that until I see a commercial or a TV program or a woman on the street who is pregnant or has a new baby, and then I just feel this deep sense of loss, thinking "I can't have that. That's for other people, not for me." Then I feel guilty for not being thankful and joyful about God's plan for my life.

All that to say... Today I was studying Psalm 139 for perhaps the 200th time (maybe more!), and I got something I hadn't seen before: Ps 139:15-16 "My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be."

What I saw today when I quoted that scripture was your book. When God ordained the days for my life, before I was even born, he wrote them in His book. It's a book about me and my days, but it's HIS BOOK. I'm not supposed to know what is in the book, only to know the Author of the book. Since he planned all my days, I know that it's going to be a wonderful, incredible, awesome book. But I can't skip to the end without reading the whole thing. I have to savor it page by page, enjoying the process of getting to the end of the book.

I want to approach my life the way I approach a really good book. I love to savor a good book. I'm always dying to know what will happen next, but I never "cheat." I enjoy seeing the plot unfold slowly. If it's an author I love, I know from the start that I'm going to enjoy myself.

Obviously God is the best author you could find. I want to feel that same way about my life. I guess if there is not a baby in his plan, then I don't need to grieve that loss. Because whatever He has planned is what is best for me. He KNOWS! So I need to have joy in knowing that he cares for me and has planned the best life there can possibly be for me. He is going to teach me incredible truths along the way, and he is going to let me experience joy and sadness and longing and everything else that makes this life so rich and amazing.

Girls, I GET IT!! At this moment, I really get it. Please pray that God will continue to teach me this lesson and that it can be mine to keep. Pray that he will remind me of this moment over and over, whenever I need to hear it. Thank you.

I can't wait to hug everyone.

Love,

Sarah Louise

Bill and I (Far Left) at His Brother Trevor's Wedding, Same Month as the Preceding Email Message

As so often happens in my life, once I finally learned the lesson, God soon gave me the desire of my heart. But that’s another story.

The Last Obstacle

In about 45 minutes, I'll be starting the prep for my second colonoscopy, which of course reminds me of the nightmare that was my first colonoscopy prep--but also reminds me of my love story with Bill. How? I'll get to that. But first, a disclaimer: yes, this is going to be yet another poop story. Feel free to bail out if you like.

After less than a year of marriage, Bill and I started talking about having a baby. I might have preferred to wait a bit longer, but I was almost 33 when we got married, and Bill had said if he was going to become a father he wanted it to happen before he was 35. That gave us about three years to work with, but with my history of unexplained infertility with my first child, we thought it best to get started right away. My gynecologist, however, had other ideas. My thyroid was enlarged, and she wanted me to see the endocrinologist first to get the green light for a pregnancy. And due to my brother's history of colon cancer at age 42, she also wanted me to get the colonoscopy that his oncologist had suggested for each of our siblings.

It took three months to get my appointment with the endocrinologist, but I made it past that hurdle with no problem. He adjusted my hypothyroid medicine and said I'd be fine.

But I had to wait much longer for the colonoscopy. We were changing our health insurance to a different plan and had to wait for the enrollment period, and then I had to get a referral, and so on. And that's why, about a year after we wanted to start our family planning, I was actually a little bit excited about my colonoscopy. (Oh, the ignorance!)

The timing was absolutely horrible: Bill's sister Lisa had come down from Canada for a few days with her three-month old daughter Katie, whom we'd never met. As luck would have it, the second day of her visit was the dreaded prep day. For that entire day, my diet was restricted to clear liquids and Jell-O, but I didn't want to miss out on the sightseeing we'd planned for Lisa. So I sipped my water with lemon and felt sorry for myself while Bill and Lisa enjoyed the best Mexican food around. And then I traipsed along behind them, feeling faint, while they toured the Fort Worth Stockyards.

Lisa and Katie

Baby in a Basket!

But the real misery began around 5:00, when I drank the first 8 ounces of the prescribed gallon of GoLytely solution. My brother Rick had warned me that I wouldn't go lightly, and also that it would take effect very quickly. "Just don't stray far from the bathroom," he advised, telling me about a mishap he'd had while trying to do laundry during his first bowel prep. Not that I planned to do any laundry, but I figured if I did I'd be fine since our laundry room is literally ten feet from the toilet. Man, was I naive.

I chugged the first glass of the cherry-flavored, salty, slimy liquid with no problem. This isn't that bad, I thought triumphantly, and then I sat on the couch to wait 15 minutes for my next dose. The leaflet that came with the solution said it would take 30-60 minutes to work, so you can imagine my surprise when, not 10 minutes after that first dose, I felt a violent urge. I sprinted the 15 feet to the bathroom and BARELY managed to get my pants down in time.

Bill and Katie on the Couch Where My Adventure Began

I emptied what surely must have been the entire contents of my colon and waited about two minutes before pulling up my pants. I hadn't even finished washing my hands when it hit me again. And again, I just BARELY made it the 1.5 feet to the toilet.

I'll spare you the details, but let's just say I soon figured out there was no point getting off the toilet at all. This invoked quite a dilemma since it was past time for my second dose, and I really hated to drink it on the toilet.

"BILL!" I hollered. "Bring me another glass please."

That second glass took about 15 minutes to drink. And the third glass took a full hour, sipped through a straw. And the fourth glass, well, I started gagging the moment the cup touched my lips. I couldn't swallow another drop. But based on the constant water that had been passing through for about four hours now, I figured maybe it didn't matter that I'd only finished a third of the solution. It had obviously done its work, and it kept right on working up until nearly midnight.

Bill and Lisa had taken baby Katie off somewhere; I don't remember where. And Ethan was with his dad that weekend, so I was all alone in the house, with only my self pity to keep me company. I was finally off the toilet, but I was so sore I couldn't even sit down properly. So I lay on my side in the recliner and cried.

When they got home, they both laughed over my woes, which infuriated me, especially since I couldn't help laughing myself. Around midnight, I fell into bed utterly exhausted.

When Bill drove me to the endoscopy center the next morning, I was too exhausted to care about my sore bottom or the piteous growls of my gapingly empty stomach. I was just so relieved that the ordeal was coming to an end at last. Or so I thought.

Wheeling my gurney into the procedure room, the nurse asked cheerfully, "So, did you finish your GoLytlely?"

I laughed ruefully. "Wow, that was rough stuff! I only got about a third of it down, but-"

The gurney screeched to a halt. "You didn't finish your prep??" she repeated incredulously.

"No," I answered in a tiny voice. "But it really worked. I had diarrhea for SIX HOURS STRAIGHT. I couldn't even leave the bathroom."

Her mouth set into a firm line as she resumed the short trip. "That doesn't matter," she hissed after a silence so loud I could hear my own heart pounding. "Your colon has to be completely clear."

"It was," I protested. "The diarrhea looked like water."

She went on as if she hadn't heard. "Because if there's any fecal matter in there.... You realize that the procedure might have to be postponed? And you'll have to do the prep again?"

At those words, I burst into tears. I don't mean those silent tears that you hope no one will notice. I mean the kind of sobs that shake your whole body.

And that's what I was doing when she parked me in front of the doctor. At his raised eyebrows, she muttered, "She didn't finish the bowel prep."

I was sobbing so hard I didn't even hear his response. But I heard her all too plainly when she said, "Now calm down or we won't be able to start the IV."

I felt like a little girl again, being scolded by my beloved daddy. I sobbed harder.

And then I felt a gentle hand on my temple, brushing the hair from my eyes. It was the nurse anesthetist, whom I hadn't even noticed standing behind me. "It's okay," he whispered, and I thought maybe he was afraid of the Big Bad Nurse too.

"Sh-she said I'd have to do the p-prep ag-gain," I wailed.

He ran his fingers through my hair, patting my head the way I would pat Ethan's head after a nightmare. "We don't know that," he said softly. "And there's nothing you can do about it now. Just relax. Everything will be okay," he promised. "Just breathe deeply. I'm going to give you a sedative now, and you'll be asleep by the time I've counted backward from 10. When you wake up it will all be over."

My sobs faded into hiccups, and grateful tears splashed into my ears. When the kind man started counting, he only made it to 7 before everything went blissfully black. From that point, I vaguely remember odd splooshy sensations and the faraway sound of  reassuring male voices. I think they kept saying, "It's okay. We can see what we need to see." So I surmise that I might have been crying throughout the procedure.

I was definitely crying when I came out of it. "It's okay," the nurse reassured me as I opened my eyes. Thankfully, it was a different nurse, and she apparently knew nothing of my meltdown, or if she did she was decent enough not to mention it. She turned to Bill, "You never know how people will react to the medication. Some people laugh, some cry... Your wife, she's obviously one of the cry-ers."

She squeezed my hand. "But you don't need to cry any more, sweetie. The procedure went just fine, and everything was normal." To her chagrin, fresh tears rained down my cheeks then, but they were tears of joy. I hadn't realized until that moment how worried I'd been during all those months of waiting. I'd been afraid that I would go through what Rick had gone through, and that I wouldn't be able to have another baby.

In a moment, I was released from all that worry, and the last obstacle had been removed. We could start trying for a baby!

There's just one more thing I'd like you to know. When I read the doctor's report that evening, this is what I saw: "Quality of prep: Excellent." Yes, the quality of my prep was "Excellent" with a capital E! Take that, Big Bad Nurse.

Now if you'll excuse me, it's time to start my bowel prep.

Looking a Little Worse for the Wear, Day After the Procedure (Aren't the Glasses Awful??)

When You're Having Fun

Thinking about my last post brought to mind a similar story about Ethan. I found it in his journal tonight, along with several other excerpts I had copied from my own journal. He was seven when these stories took place....

Excerpts From My Journal (and Ethan's Journal)
-7/26/04: Ethan said something so cute yesterday. He told us that he needs to bring his Bible to church each time, and also money for the offering. He said earnestly, "Jesus likes the quarters best." He is so sweet!

-8/13/04: Ethan feeds the turtles now. He is delighted with the way Tom, the big one, bites and pulls at the yellow food lid. I love to hear Ethan talk and laugh. Thank you, Father, for the joy he brings us.

Tom When He Was Tiny... Or Maybe This Was Jerry

-8/19/04: There was a tremendous thunderstorm this morning. The thunder crashed and rattled the windows. The lightning was brilliant through my closed eyelids.... Ethan came in and slept with us at 5:00. Once he was next to me, he seemed to sleep right through the worst of it. He felt completely safe and secure in our bed.

I want to be that way with you, Father. No matter what storms rage in my life, I want to know that I am safe and sheltered in you.

-8/23/04: Ethan said something today that warmed my heart. I had taken off work to drive him to a doctor appointment. He asked if time really goes faster when you're having fun. I told him it does seem that way. He said he was having fun right then, talking to me in the car, and it didn't feel like 20 minutes had passed.

Oh, Father! Thank you for the gift of Ethan's conversation. Help me not to take his attention for granted.... Thank you, thank you for this gift.

Ethan in 5/04 (Age Seven)

Six Years Later
Ethan is still a joy, and even at almost 13, he says the sweetest things sometimes. I am so blessed.

Losing Myself, Finding The Real Me

I was scouring my old journals (about ten of them) looking for a story that came to mind tonight, but I couldn't find it. Instead, I found something else that really moved me. This is the reason I journal--and why I think EVERYONE should journal. It's an amazing thing to stumble on clues to who you were at some past moment, and to see who you are becoming. It's wonderful to see how God was speaking to you, loving you in your imperfections.

Excerpt From My Journal, 6/22/04
I'm ready to give up on changing myself. I realize that I can't do it. I struggle with the same selfishness, pride, and unkindness that I have lived in for years.

Yes, unkindness. I have always liked to think of myself as a sweet, kind person, but I am seeing a mean streak in myself. I mentally or even verbally ridicule anyone who doesn't measure up to my standards. I have allowed a wall to be built between me and my family.

I can be a huge success in all that I do at work, but WHAT DOES IT MATTER? What impact has my life had on those around me? I fear that the answer is "none." I have not allowed you to shine in me, Father. I have choked out the candle of your Spirit with my pride.

I am a wretch! I need you, Father! Please forgive my selfishness, my monstrous pride, my hatefulness. Please wash me clean, and cast my sin away from me, to be remembered no more.

Make me new, Father. Create in me a clean heart. I know I don't deserve your love or your forgiveness, but I'm opening my hands, lifting them to you, to receive them....

I feel like I have been afraid to let you really change me. I've been afraid of losing myself, who I think I am. I don't even know who I am, but I am comfortable being the old me.

Who do I think "Sarah" is? She is funny. She is smart, very smart. She tries to be likable. She tries to be moral and kind and loving, but she feels dirty and unworthy deep down. She is afraid of change, afraid of new things, big and small. She does not feel worthy to be loved, not by God, not by anyone except maybe Ethan [my son].

What do I have to lose by surrendering to God? Will I lose my sense of humor? I don't think so. I believe God delights in my laughter, that he taught me how to see the humor in life and make others laugh.

Will I lose my intelligence? No, but I might lose my pride about it. And I might gain real wisdom, about what really matters.

Will I be lovable and likable and kind? Yes, if I let God shine through me. People are drawn to Jesus, and they are drawn to real peace when they see it.

Ah, peace. That is what I need most of all. Peace and trust and rest--freedom from my fears.

And can I be loved by God, my Father? Yes, yes, yes. For God so loved the world (me, Sarah) that he gave his only begotten son, that whosoever (especially me, Sarah) believes in him will not perish but have everlasting life. (John 3:16)

God already loves me, just as I am. He sent his son to die for me, just as I am. I don't have to change, to clean myself up, to earn his love. He loved me before I was even born. He planned my days. He knit me together in my mother's womb.

I like that image of knitting--patient, detailed work that is done with the hands. Not like a sewing machine with every stitch uniform. No, I am a unique, special creation. There is no one else like me, and God made me to be just who I am--only better! He made me to love him, to love my neighbor, to submit to him in everything I do. He made me to trust in him and not be afraid.

Oh, Father! I surrender to you now. I don't want to wait until I am good enough. I want to give you my heart today. Lord, I surrender my all, my very identity to you. Change my heart! Teach me to know you. Take my offering of me that I lift up to you.

Five Years Later
Looking back, I can see that I've grown in the last few years. I am surrendering my fears to God, one by one, and I am learning to love others as he loves me--because I am learning how very much he does love me. I so thankful that God put these desires in my heart, and I want to pray these prayers always.

Stop Trying So Hard!

At tonight's Bible study, we talked about how Moses asked to see God's glory, but he could not see his face; God only allowed him to see his back:

Exodus 33:18-3:

18 Then Moses said, "Now show me your glory."

19 And the LORD said, "I will cause all my goodness to pass in front of you, and I will proclaim my name, the LORD, in your presence. I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion. 20 But," he said, "you cannot see my face, for no one may see me and live."

21 Then the LORD said, "There is a place near me where you may stand on a rock. 22 When my glory passes by, I will put you in a cleft in the rock and cover you with my hand until I have passed by. 23 Then I will remove my hand and you will see my back; but my face must not be seen."

This reminded me of a time when I asked to see God's face, and instead he showed me another vision....

Excerpt from my journal, Saturday 7/10/04:
I was reading Jenny's book this morning.... What resonated with me was Jenny's shame over her obsession with her "earthly tent." God told her it didn't matter at all what shape her earthly tent was in--that she is weak and utterly dependent on him, and she needs to remember that.

And then she felt that she was swaying in Jesus' arms, and that he told her to lift up her head (which was bowed in shame). She looked up into his face. She let him look on her with love even though she was crying.

That awareness of Jesus' love is what I need so desperately. I know I must still be thinking that I must work harder to earn his love. I know with my mind that Jesus loves me no matter what I do, how I perform. Yet my heart can't seem to fathom that truth.

Jesus, I wish I could see you in my mind's eye as Jenny does. I have never been able to truly picture anything, let alone your face. Would you give me that gift, Jesus? I long to look upon your face, to see the love in your eyes. I believe it would transform me....

I tried to picture Jesus then, but I didn't see anything. Just red and black through my eyelids. I imagined standing and facing Jesus, with both of my hands held in his. I looked up, trying to see his face as he looked on me in love. But I couldn't see him. I had a deep sorrow and frustration over this. Why can't I see him? For a moment, I wanted to throw down my journal and say, "Forget it! I've been imagining the whole thing. I can never know Jesus."

But I don't want to do that. I know faith isn't based on what I see or what I feel. It's based on the knowledge of Him. And I know he's been teaching me over these last weeks....

I did end up seeing something, but not what I had asked for. It was basically a vision, though it was based on a childhood memory. I didn't just remember it, but I lived that moment over again with adult eyes....

I was small, about 5 or 6. I had gotten a jump rope for my birthday, and I was trying to learn how to jump. I kept tripping over it. I was sobbing uncontrollably, anger and frustration surging through me. I threw down the jump rope and said I didn't care about the stupid thing anyway.

I can't remember if this actually happened in real life, but in this vision, my mother was holding me close and telling me it was okay, that it was supposed to be fun. I felt so loved and understood and chagrined, and I knew it was Jesus hugging me with my mother's arms.

Now I feel the same way I did that day, ready to throw in the towel because I am so impatient. And Jesus is standing by, ready to comfort and encourage me. "You'll get it. Keep trying. Don't give up."

I run to him. I bury my head in his chest and cry. He strokes my hair and says, "It's okay. I love you."

And I say, choking on sobs, "But I wanted to do it. I tried so hard." And I realize that is the problem. I am trying too hard.

He says, "Let me teach you."

Thank you for speaking to me, Jesus. I see now how very childish I am emotionally and spiritually. I realize that I can't grow up overnight. But if I trust and obey, you will teach me and train me. You will transform me....

When I was closing my eyes, trying to see you, I thought I heard you say, "You are mine." I'm so glad you love me, that you aren't put off by my tantrum.

Four Years Later
I still struggle with trying too hard, but God continues to reveal little pieces of himself to me. I have moments of sheer amazement at his character and weeks of doubt. I can see that I have grown. I still haven't seen Jesus' face, and it turns out Jenny hadn't either. (I'd misunderstood her words.) I guess it's like God told Moses; no one can look on His face and live. I guess we will have to wait until we see Him face to face in heaven.

I Hate Cheese!

Here are excerpts from Ethan's Journal regarding our Grand Canyon trip in October of 2004, including some of my favorite funny Ethan stories. Ethan was 7.

Hiking at Grand Canyon
I nagged you incessantly to stop running, and stay on the path! Each time we approached the edge, my heart would pound. I felt most comfortable at the railings....

We wanted to sleep in a bit, but you were up by 7:00. By 8:30, we were at the South Kaibab Trailhead. Bill wore a backpack with three bottles of water--I thought we should have six--three granola bars, several Rice Krispy Treats, and several mini bags of chips.

I had been under the impression that this trail was not used by mules, but we quickly discovered that was not the case. Bill had to remind you to pay attention to where you walked instead of wildly dodging mule poo....

We stayed at Cedar Ridge for about 30 minutes before heading back up. We explored the entire ridge. We climbed out on a huge rock that jutted over the canyon. That made my heart thump. I was so worried about you.

We did very well on the return trip. You leaned on a small stick you had found, but about half of the time you were dragging it through the rocks behind you, or poking it in donkey poo. Bill spotted some donkeys coming up behind us, and we tried to stay ahead of them so we wouldn't have to smell fresh droppings. We climbed a little faster, but we had to keep taking breaks, and they were gaining on us steadily. As they got closer, you began to lag behind. It was obvious that you wanted them to catch up so we could see them better.

We were in sight of the top when they caught us. We stood in a sheltered corner while they passed. The last three switchbacks were indeed very smelly, but you seemed to enjoy exclaiming over the droppings. A couple of times, Bill even kicked some of it at you, which made you shriek and jump.

At last we made it to the top. I was so proud of us! We didn't even do much complaining. It was definitely worth the effort. The beauty was beyond compare.

Sunset at the Canyon
After our sunset jeep tour that evening, we found a big rock to sit on while we waited for the sunset at Grandview Point. It was peaceful and majestic, colors changing by the moment, gathered with people from all around the world, hearing... a HUGE fart! You lifted up one leg and let one rip!

"Ethan Montgomery!" I hollered, and hid my face. There were loud giggles all around. A German couple behind us said, "Big foof! Little boy!" Then, in broken English, they said that you had broken the rock; they pointed to all the cracks and laughed themselves silly.

Finally we were all quiet again as we watched the sun slip behind the trees. It was the most beautiful sunset I'd ever seen. I could scarcely tear myself away to ride back in the jeep.

Incredible Sunrise

At my insistence, we all rolled out of bed around 5:30 Wednesday morning so we could watch the sunrise over the canyon. We drove to Mather Point and sat, then stood on a boulder. You were wrapped in your red Clifford blanket. Some Japanese tourists walked past and pointed at you; obviously they thought you were really cute, all covered in your blankie. I was wrapped in my own blanket, a plush new one from Target. However, no one remarked that I was cute.

We watched the colors change gradually from pink to yellow to orange. After about 30 minutes, the sun began to peep out from behind one of the ridges, framed between that ridge and another that was perpendicular to it. The crowd of people who had gathered sighed, "Ooh!"


We had our free breakfast and were back on the road by 8:00. We drove east on 64, then north on 160, through some of the most beautiful terrain imaginable. There were mountain ranges, canyons, and mesas, many beautifully colored. We were driving through the north part of the Painted Desert.

The Cheeseburger Story
Not long after breakfast, when we were far from civilization, you began to complain that you were hungry. What could you have? Bill told you he didn't want to hear it. "You know what there is: chips or Rice Krispy Treats."

You wanted something else. What else was there?

"Do you think I can just pull a cheeseburger out of my butt?" Bill asked.

"And if he could, would you eat it?" I asked.

"No!" you replied emphatically, "because I hate cheese!" We laughed so hard! I said that conversation would definitely go in the trip journal. It wasn't long before your next adventure that was journal-worthy.

Killer Bees
We were just driving along quietly, with you playing your Gameboy, when you went berserk. You were scrambling around the backseat, terror in your eyes. "There's a bee!" you shouted. You said a bee had flown through the cracked front window and hit you in the forehead. You saw it, and it was... ALIVE!

Bill said there was no way a bee could have flown into that crack, but you were hysterical. So we stopped. You said the bee was on your pillow. I pulled your pillow out and examined it, then my pillow, too. I put both pillows in the trunk and convinced you to strap yourself back in.

We had driven less than a mile down the road when you started shouting again and even cried. "It's here!" you choked out. "See, I told you! It's right there!" You huddled against the door, as far as possible from the bee.

Bill pulled over again, and I crawled into the back to investigate. I finally saw the object of your terror: a common housefly! Bill flicked the fly out the door and told you to calm down, for Pete's sake! It took you several minutes to relax.

Mesa Verde National Park
While we were hiking in Mesa Verde Park, we were 8750 feet above sea level. The view was breathtaking. You could look into four states, and you could see mesas and mountains. On the way back down the path, you told us you had heard some rustling in the bushes. As you leaned over to point out the spot, Bill surreptitiously picked a long piece of straw with a fluffy tip. He sneaked up behind you and poked the fluffy tip into your neck. You should've seen yourself jump. After that, you picked your own piece of straw and tried to startle us with it, but you didn't have the necessary stealth.