The Best Miserable Birthday

Months ahead of my birthday last month, I told Allyson and Ethan that all I wanted this year was a family camping trip, our first in six years. I had actually reserved a campsite twice in the fall, but both times I had to cancel due to rain in the forecast. This time, I reserved a site with a covered shelter and handicap access so that my sister Amy could go with us, and I was determined not to cancel no matter what. Since forgetfulness runs in our family, I reminded them many times over the ensuing months.

In the days before the campout, the weather forecast grew more and more ominous, but I doggedly held onto our plans. The rain wasn't scheduled to begin until Saturday, so I reasoned that we'd have one good night and could wait out the rain in the covered shelter playing games. 

The celebration began on my actual birthday, a Thursday. Allyson and I drove to my parents' house, where I met Amy and our sister Melody, with whom she lives currently. We enjoyed a delicious meal and our favorite dessert, a concoction made of Butterfinger candy bars, vanilla pudding, ice cream, and Cool Whip. 

Allyson gave me two delightfully practical gifts, a table lamp for my room and a comfortable workout shirt to wear to the gym that I joined recently. She also gave me my favorite healthy candy bar. Best of all, instead of a card, she gave me a full-page handwritten letter that assured me all the love I've poured into her has been received.

Mom and my sisters gave me sweet cards and gifts, too. 

I spent the rest of that evening and the next morning doing what I always do before trips: preparing lots of food and packing my little Kia to the gills. Ethan and his wife Sumer drove out to my house around noon to play with their cat Riggy, whom I've been fostering, and to load up whatever wouldn't fit into my car. This time I had Amy's wheelchair and several other essential items, so packing had been even more of a challenge. 

Ethan, Sumer, and Allyson went on ahead while I packed up the last of the food. Amy and I left about an hour and a half after our planned departure, which is pretty typical. We arrived late in the afternoon to find that Ethan and Allyson had set up their tents, and Allyson was relaxing in her hammock, which she'd strung between two trees. 

The Campsite

The site was amazing! The rectangular covered shelter nestled among lush trees, so close to the lake that you could hear the water lapping against the shore. Just behind and below the shelter was a collection of giant rocks that formed a scenic overlook. I smiled as I pictured how Ethan would have clambered over the rocks if we'd reserved this site on camping trips decades before. 

If You Look Closely, You Can See the Lake

Procrastination, Preparation, and Anticipation

Last Saturday my boy became a husband! Although Ethan and Sumer were engaged for over a year, it still sort of crept up on me. I found myself scrambling at the last minute, as I do for most important events in my life... and the unimportant ones, too.

It began with Sumer's bridal shower, the first I'd ever hosted. I was nervous about all of it—the games, the decorations, the food—so I procrastinated about planning it until I'd nearly run out of time. But thanks to Pinterest and some advice from my boss and a coworker, it all came together nicely! I made way too much baked potatoes, grilled chicken, vegetable soup, and salad, but that was okay because we sent quite a lot home with my mom, who has been unable to cook since a fall on Labor Day weekend. 

For dessert we ate pumpkin-spice Nothing Bundt cake with thick cream-cheese frosting and my sister Emily's pineapple-sherbet punch, which she graciously made for me when she arrived, after picking up both the cake and our mother.

Allyson was in charge of decorations, and she made the party beautiful with a cute little marquis, a big banner, giant balloons, three little bouquets that doubled as prizes for the games, and a pink sparkly sash for the bride-to-be.

Allyson and Sumer

Coronavirus Day 19 - Stronger Each Day and Very Grateful

It's now been nearly three weeks since my Covid-19 infection, and a few of you have asked for an update. 

The day of my last update, Wednesday 2/10/21, was my first half day back at work. I'd been feeling really bored and mildly anxious over missing so much work given our tight deadlines. I started with 4 hours in the morning, and although the time went too quickly, I found myself watching the clock for the last few minutes because I was ready for a nap. 

I was a little concerned that sitting at my desk for four hours could make me so tired, but I reminded myself that this was only day 7, and many Covid-19 patients miss two to three weeks of work. So I listened to my body and took a lovely nap with sweet Arwen.

The next day, the time went even more quickly because I had so much work to do. I could have worked longer, but I logged off after four hours. Again, I took a nap, but this time I slept alone. For some reason CiCi had come in at the start of my nap and shoved Arwen off onto the floor, but then she left too. "What? You just don't want Arwen to sleep with me?" I called after her. She didn't look back. When I woke up, however, both cats were curled up on either side of my legs. 

On Friday 2/12, I started my morning with some belly laughter during our daily check-in via Zoom. I can't remember what we all laughed about, but I remember thinking about the healing power of laughter and feeling very thankful. The next thing I noticed during that meeting was that an annoying chemical smell was emanating from the bathroom, just to the left of my desk. It was a perfume-y odor, the kind that makes my nose itch and my eyes water. 

When the meeting ended, I opened the door to investigate, and the smell assaulted my nostrils. It took a moment for the significance to register. I could smell! I surveyed the messy counter; Allyson had taken over the master bedroom and bathroom ever since I'd moved to the cats' room to sleep on the adjustable bed. Allyson had colored her hair a few days earlier, and I was smelling a concoction she'd made from baking soda and hair conditioner. I wondered how I could possibly have missed this overpowering aroma for the last two days when I'd been working at the same desk. 

I coughed and carried the offending items to the kitchen. While I was there, I opened the refrigerator for a snack and immediately wrinkled my nose in disgust. Obviously, something was spoiled. How long had the refrigerator smelled like this? I resolved to clean the fridge over the weekend.

After peeling and eating a clementine, I returned to my desk and inhaled the orange scent that lingered on my fingers. It smelled so lovely that happy tears sprang to my eyes. I'd been fearing that my loss of smell would last weeks or months as it does for some Covid-19 patients. 

How odd that my sense of smell had returned as abruptly as it had vanished, almost like flipping a switch. Again I wondered at the cause of this, the most common Covid-19 symptom. My understanding is that it is a neurologic issue. In any case, I figured the restoration of my olfactory function had to be a good sign. 

Another good sign was that I accidently worked five hours instead of four, and I didn't feel the need for a nap afterward. 

A Cleaning Frenzy

On Saturday 2/13,  I woke up in the mood to clean. The house was even dirtier than usual because I'd been unable to clean for the duration of my sickness, and the clutter had really piled up. Between 10 and 5:30, I joyfully did laundry, straightened messes, swept my bedroom and bathroom, mopped the bathroom, cleaned the vanity, did the dishes, and cleaned the refrigerator. I remarked to my friend Laura in a text that I felt like that iconic muscle woman on the World War II poster (Rosie the Riveter).

Last week, during the arctic blast that nearly took down Texas's power grid, I continued to recover more of my strength each day. I had no trouble waking up each morning, nor putting in my full eight hours of work. (Thank the Lord, I did not lose electricity nor Internet service.) At some point, the mild nausea that had plagued me for two weeks faded away, and my digestion returned to normal.

The only symptom that remained was moderate nasal congestion and mild shortness of breath. Now I seemed to be suffering from a cold, and it followed the usual course, from very runny to very stuffy. At the worst, my nose was both running and completely stopped up, so that blowing brought me no relief whatsoever and my nose was raw. That evening, I tried irrigating my sinuses with saline, and that did seem to help a bit.

Meanwhile, I'd been working my way up to longer trampoline workouts each day. At first, one to two minutes left me breathless, but after a week, I can now handle 10-12 minutes of gentle bouncing. On Thursday and Friday, I did special workouts for lymphatic drainage, and my congestion improved dramatically.

Yesterday and today, my sinuses have been draining so much that I continually need to clear my throat. It's annoying, but much better than being stopped up. In a few more days, I hope that I will be breathing freely and will be able to exert myself without becoming short of breath. 

Today I became winded while singing during church, but afterward I was able to walk and talk for a couple of miles with a friend without feeling tired. The weather was glorious today, up in the 60s! How odd to see people in shorts alongside snow drifts in the store parking lots, which were packed. 

I could tell from all the smiles I observed that everyone else shared my joy in soaking up the sunshine. My own joy was compounded by feeling strong again after those five days in bed just a couple of weeks ago. 

This will most likely be my last coronavirus update, but I will be sure to write again when I am able to report that my shortness of breath is gone. Please continue to pray for my full recovery.

Today

===========================

Vitals: 96/68, 78 beats per minute. (The lower heart rate most likely means that my body is no longer fighting germs. Having a resting heart rate in the 90s was a sign that my immune system was still at war even after most of my symptoms had subsided.)

Symptoms: mild nasal congestion, improving; mild shortness of breath with exertion. 

I've had a break from my usual allergy symptoms ever since the Covid symptoms started. The allergies had been quite severe starting in January. I wonder if my immune system decided to attack the bigger enemy and stop worrying about the mountain cedar pollen for a while. I hope the allergies don't return because I'm really tired of being congested. 

Satisfied

Right after I published my last post, I spent a couple of minutes on Facebook before turning in for the night. I ran across a post from a friend, about a conversation with a colleague at the school where she works. The teacher told her that the only way to get through all the stress of this crazy year is to focus on being thankful for something every day. He also said it's important to make ourselves vulnerable so that we don't miss out on meaningful relationships.

I fell asleep thinking about both of those ideas. As I mentioned in my previous entry, I'd already been thinking about all the reasons to be thankful for the most important people in my life. Now I considered something I'd written several times on my inventory, in the column about the long-term effects of others' actions: "mistrustful... I built a wall." 

I don't like having walls up. I spent too many years hiding behind them, a prisoner to my perfectionism. How disheartening it was to find myself ensconced inside what feels like a fortress, to be lonely, yet afraid to open myself up for more hurt. I probably prayed about my feelings, but I soon lost consciousness because it had been such an emotionally draining day.

When the light woke me, I stretched luxuriously and then reached for my Jesus Calling devotional. Within moments, my eyes widened as I recognized one sacred echo after another, as if the entire entry had been written in response to my spoken and unspoken questions about how to let my walls down and how to open up and receive the unconditional love that I crave.

Making Room for All the Good Stuff

 A few months back, I started my second Celebrate Recovery step study. This program for finding freedom from "hurts, habits, and hang-ups" follows the same 12 steps from Alcoholics Anonymous, but from a Biblical standpoint. The first time I completed the steps, I found it difficult to probe deeply into my past because I was weathering the agony of divorce at the time. This time, I'm struggling to let go of emotional and spiritual pain from my Hashimoto's thyroiditis flare-up last summer and fall. 

Today I took a day off to work on my personal inventory, a critical part of step 4. I could have done it at home, but I wanted a quiet place where I wouldn't be distracted by piles of laundry and dirty dishes. My friend and coworker Melodie graciously offered me her little Air BNB apartment, A Little Bit Country. "I want to contribute to your project," she said.

She did more than just give me a bed and a quiet place to get alone with God. When I arrived yesterday afternoon, she took me for a walk through her lovely neighborhood out in the country, interrupting my chatter over my latest crush only to point out this abandoned church.

After that, she and her husband Brad fixed a delightful dinner of grilled chicken and vegetables with grilled cinnamon pineapple slices. Wow! The dinner was almost as enjoyable as the conversation; Melodie recounted the most entertaining stories about her mission trips to Latin America and a journey to a Mayan village for a college research project.

I woke just before nine this morning to a wonderfully quiet house and some strong coffee Brad had left for me. Since my doctor advised me to avoid coffee due to its acidity and the possibility of inflammation, I usually enjoy only one cup a week, diluted 50 percent with chicory. The full-strength coffee, on a Thursday, felt extra special. I figured it would fortify me for the daunting task of reviewing my entire life and listing everyone who'd hurt me as well as everyone whom I'd hurt. Another of Melodie's rich gluten-free brownies couldn't hurt either, I reasoned. 

Like a String of Beautiful Beads

Years ago, when my dear friend Laura passed away, her mother gave me a rosary that she had treasured; it was from Jerusalem from wood harvested in the Garden of Gethsemane, as I recall.

I never knew how to pray the rosary with the beads, nor even what the groups of beads stood for, until my friend Gentle explained it to me. She had grown up Catholic but was attending my Protestant church when I met her.

I loved the idea of a necklace that could aid you in daily prayers and remind you of Jesus's sacrifices for us. Although I couldn't possibly remember all that Gentle showed me, I could relate to the idea. It seemed similar to the way I flip through the business cards where I have recorded the precious memory passages that God has given me over the last 17 years. While I recite the passages, I don't really look at them much, but the feel of the velvety edges from years of handling triggers an explosion of connections--memories of the miraculous and unique ways that God used to confirm each passage, of promises fulfilled, and promises yet to be fulfilled.

Often, I have to stop to praise God or thank Him for the answered prayers that I know are coming. For example, one morning in the park when I quoted, "I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty" (Philippians 4:12), I set the cards aside and said, "God, thank you for allowing me to experience being in need for the first time in my adult life. Thank you that this passage isn't just words for me. How can I experience the wonder of your provision if I never truly understand what it is to be in need? Thank you for this opportunity to trust you. You have always been faithful, and I know you will continue to be faithful."

If you've been reading long and you have a great memory, you may recall that I hung Laura's rosary, along with some promises from Scripture, on my car's mirror back when I was an Uber driver and aspiring teacher.

I'm sorry to report that after a few months in the Texas sun, the necklace string melted! I had not noticed that it was made of wax. I lost all the beads, but I kept the crucifix... somewhere.

To be honest, if I had a necklace of prayer beads now, I'd have to say that in recent months most of the beads would be devoted to prayer requests rather than praises. I do write a gratitude list every night before bed, and I thank God for things as small as a muffin with almond butter and raspberry jam or as big as a restored relationship.

But I have been praying for lots of things for what feels like a very long time. It has now been six months since I suffered a severe flare-up of Hashimoto's thyroiditis that led to alternating bouts of hyperthyroidism and hypothyroidism and a host of painful symptoms caused by my own immune system, and five months since I have received a paycheck.

Though I have felt better and better with each passing week, I still have joint pain when I lose sleep or eat a food that my immune system reacts to. And my skin has been painfully dry this winter, more than any other year in my life--most likely due to hypothyroidism even though my energy level is good and my body seems to be in better health than I've experienced in years.

Over the last couple of months, I've struggled to keep my focus on the positive rather than focusing on my pain. I've struggled to keep my eyes and my heart fixed on the undeniable fact that God loves me more deeply than I can comprehend, even when I feel lonely and isolated.

Slowly, slowly, the balance has tipped. I now have more happy days than sad days. I smile more. I'm starting to laugh again. For the most part, I've stepped out of my funk, and I dare to believe that I am learning the lesson that God has for me in this trial.

One by one, God has been answering my prayers. Here are just a few of the things God has done for me in just the last couple of weeks.

1. A close friend to pray with and hang out with; God gave me two. For about four years, I have been praying for a special friend whom I could pray with and spend time with on a regular basis. Most of my close friends are teachers with no social life during the school term, and they live far from me. I wanted a friend who could hug me with arms.

Even Before I Call

I wrote this entry this past Sunday (December 8), but couldn't get it to post that day. The Friday that I refer to in the entry was one week ago.

Friday was a stressful day for me, though I felt pretty good physically. I spent the majority of the day working on a cover letter, but I wasn’t satisfied with it. And then I completed all but the last screen of an online job application, only to be kicked back to the home screen without any of my changes being saved. 

“I’ve got to get out of here,” I said aloud. “I can’t do this one more minute.” 

The afternoon was mild, so I mounted my bike and followed my usual route over the park trails. I tried to keep my thoughts in the moment, to focus on the few remaining green leaves and the sound of the water, but my thoughts kept returning to the job applications. 

About halfway through my ride, I had a thought so pathetic that I shocked myself: “In April I’ll be 50. I wonder how much longer I will live.” I thought about the longevity of my parents and grandparents--thank you, Jesus--and figured I could have another 40 years or more left. “I’m so tired,” I thought. “I want to be at the end.”

Immediately I repented. “I’m sorry, God. No, I don’t want to skip past my whole life. I don’t want to skip any of it because I know you work in all things for my good. You promised me abundant life. This isn’t abundant life… being bound by fear and worry. Please help me take hold of the joy that you have for me in this time of trouble.” 

At Least You Know You're Alive

Last week I told you a bit about my family's recent road trip to Indiana. Now I'm going to tell you about the day that most of us will remember when we look back on this vacation.

Our last Tuesday was designated as Chicago Day. Rather than to brave the traffic and fight for parking spaces, we decided to take the South Shore commuter train that runs between South Bend, Indiana, and Downtown Chicago. I've actually ridden that route many times, and I usually enjoy the sense of adventure. This was my sister Amy's first time to ride the train since her stroke, but our sister Melody had done her research and assured us that the train was handicap accessible.

We decided to depart from Michigan City, an hour's drive away, because it had more return options than the closer South Bend station. On the trip out, we had the benefit of a one-hour time difference; we could leave at 7:00 and have plenty of time to catch the 9:00 train.

I got Amy and myself up that morning at 6:15, which seemed like plenty of time. But I had not factored in the shared bathroom, nor the multiple trips to the basement to holler at Allyson and her friend Kambry. Aunt Sue came to rescue by cooking our oatmeal and even washing Kambry's hair in the kitchen sink just moments before we left.

Following Melody and her husband Joe, we pulled out of the driveway around 7:20, not too bad in my book. While Kambry brushed her wet hair, Allyson routed us to the Carroll Avenue station. If all went according to plan, we would arrive with 40 minutes to spare.

I'm Leaving It By the Side of the Road

I really shouldn't be blogging tonight. I need to get in bed. But I'm just bursting, and I want to share my heart with you before I know the outcome....

Tomorrow is my very first substitute teaching assignment, with a middle school English class. (I plan to sub about once a week until I run out of vacation time.) I've been putting together a Total Participation Techniques kit with all kinds of supplies to help me create interactivity in the event that I actually get to do some teaching (as opposed to babysitting). I made little whiteboards with heavy-duty transparency sleeves and white card stock, and I picked out some fun mismatched socks to use as erasers. I bought three dozen sticky note pads for annotating in books. I'm making True/Not True hold-up cards, as well as "True with modifications" and "Unable to determine." I've been thinking about ways to incorporate motion and plenty of academic conversation. 

Just yesterday I was marveling that I felt more excited than afraid. In fact, I told myself I'd better curb the enthusiasm just a notch so that I wouldn't be crushed by a reality that doesn't live up to my idealistic notions--which always happens to me. 

I guess I took my own advice.

Last night I was listening to a recorded sermon from my new church, on giving God the first of everything. Pastor Hayes told the story of the Israelites' humiliating defeat at Ai after they had conquered Jericho so triumphantly (Joshua 7). After tearing his clothes and falling on his face before God, the Israelite leader Joshua said, "Alas, O Lord God, why have you brought this people over the Jordan at all, to give us into the hands of the Amorites, to destroy us? Would that we had been content to dwell beyond the Jordan!"

Pastor Hayes then asked if we had ever felt that way when we encountered a challenge or a disappointment. Did we ever just want to turn back from the battle and go back where we were comfortable? 

"Yes, oh yes," I thought, with a stab of fear. Right at that moment, I thought about my comfortable, predictable, safe life--my sometimes boring, always busy life. I wondered what had possessed me to think of venturing out into the unknown. Weren't there other ways I could serve God besides putting myself at the mercy of 25 adolescents? 

The moment the sermon was over, I went straight to my prayer closet and fell on my face before God, though I abstained from tearing my clothes like Joshua. I don't even remember much of what I prayed because I was so tired. I did ask God to help me put him first, and to hold nothing back from him. And then I asked him to hold me close while I fell asleep. He did. I had the most beautiful sleep!

But today fear was crouching at the door, and I let it in. All day long, my stomach churned with unease. I was starting to regret accepting seven jobs, booking myself into November. 

I kept telling myself there was no rational reason to be afraid. Yes, I could fail. I could fall flat on my face. And then I would get back up again and ask God for help. I knew all this with my mind, but my fear continued to build in my heart as the hours passed. 

Thankfully, tonight was Celebrate Recovery. The whole meeting was such an encouragement. The last worship song had me in tears: Hillsong's All I Need is You. Listen to the first line:

Left my fear by the side of the road...

"Why can't I do that?" I thought.

And then we came to:

You hold the universe
You hold everyone on earth
You hold the universe
You hold
You hold

I swayed to the music, feeling that gentle power wrapping around me. How could I fear, knowing God is in control? If he can hold this universe that He made together, of course He can hold me.

Still, I could feel the fear in my upset stomach. Now I was only 12 hours away from stepping off the ledge. I confessed to my CR family that I very much want to leave my fear by the side of the road, but the truth is, I'm still afraid. "But I'm going to do it anyway," I said firmly, despite my trembling lips. "I know that God will be with me, and I trust that next week I will share a testimony of God's goodness with you."

With my small group afterward, I poured out my heart. "I don't know why I'm so inordinately afraid," I said. "But I believe I am going to leave my fear by the side of the road. I'm tired of letting my fear hold me back. I'm tired of dragging these chains around. I'm afraid of failing, but I'd rather chance falling flat on my face than to stay where it's comfortable and miss what God is calling me to do."

Tears streamed down my face as I realized that it was true. I am more afraid of missing my calling than I am of failing.

After everyone had shared, my dear sisters held hands with me as we prayed for all of our needs, and then we enjoyed a group hug. They assured me that they know I will be a blessing to my students, including the ones God has picked out for me tomorrow. They said they are excited to hear what God will do.

On the drive home, I whispered to God that I am ready to go with Him. I trust Him, and I want to see what He has planned for me. I know I have to leave my comfortable place to get there.

One of these days, I really am going to leave my fear by the side of the road. In the meantime, I'm going to trust Jesus to help me face it every time it rears up. As I read in a novel just the other day, I know that being brave doesn't mean you don't have any fear. It means you feel afraid about something, but you do it anyway. Tonight, I'm feeling brave.

This is me being brave, poised on the edge.
I'm going to jump!

Two Heroes and a Flash Flood

Tonight I have two stories to share. I can't decide which, so why not tell both? 

Would-Be Heroes
A week ago today, I went walking in the park with Lizzette, my most frequent walking companion aside from Jesus.

We didn't look this good on that evening. 

We got off to a very late start, so it was quite dark on our way back. Thus my usual wonder at the fireflies' magical pinpricks of golden light was tempered by fear of catching the Zika virus from the mosquitoes who also inhabit the thickly wooded creek bank.

Deep in conversation, we'd nearly made it back to the main road when we both stopped short, arrested by a plaintive cry.

"What was..." Lizzette began.

"Is it a..." I started to say "baby," but then we heard it again.

Blessed Among Women

I'm sorry I've been such a stranger during perhaps the busiest season of my life (so far, anyway). I've missed you guys very much. This is going to be pretty random. I guess I'm out of practice.

Here's a bit of what I've been up to:

• Visiting my sister Amy, who had a massive stroke about two months ago. She is still half paralyzed, but she's working very hard at her recovery and is slowly making progress. She inspires me every time we're together because she has a child-like joy, and she positively overflows with laughter. Also, she's always so proud to introduce me as her sister, and her friends and therapists always say they've heard so much about me. She brags on her other siblings too. "My brother is coming tomorrow!" she says, with a radiant smile. Or, "I can't wait to see Emily and Paul."
• Minor renovations to my house that turned out to be much more time consuming and stressful (and costly) than I ever anticipated. I had three rooms and the ceilings painted in lovely shades of blue-gray, pale lavender, and some other delightful purple I don't know the word for. Lilac? Also I had my bathroom textured. And my bathroom cabinets painted. And I replaced the ugly laminate and all the carpet with gorgeous distressed honey bamboo. My dad, nephew Jacob, and dear brother-in-law Paul pulled off all the baseboards so I could get new ones installed. 
• Filling out application after application, tweaking my resume and cover letter, and monitoring the websites for all the surrounding districts for the teaching positions that are posted each day. I haven't had any interviews yet, but I made a couple of great contacts at a job fair last week. More on that later.
• Keeping up with my LEAP diet, which means carrying my own food everywhere any time I leave the house. That has gotten easier as I've been able to add more and more foods to my list, and also since I stopped recording all my food. I did that when Amy was really critical and I was at the hospital nearly every day.Thanks to God and my dietitian, I'm in much better health than I was this time last year.
• Running Allyson to soccer practice, soccer games, and soccer activities. She was supposed to be switching teams, but she doesn't want to decide between the new team and the old team. So right now she's doing both. At least she's getting her exercise. And I'm getting out in the sun and having an excuse to do nothing for an hour while she practices. 

Whew! 

God has been so good to me through all of this. Ever since Amy's stroke, my priorities have shifted. I realize that people are so much more important than things, and I keep my eyes open every day for the blessings all around me. Let me share just a few of those blessings.

A Walk in the Park

The other morning I went home through the park after I'd walked Allyson to school. It was my first walk of the season, and I'd forgotten the sheer joy of those paths. As I inhaled the scent of damp moss and honeysuckle, I felt all my earthly concerns drifting away. Next, I rounded a corner to find two birds circling each other against the backdrop of a brilliant blue sky, alternately swooping low and soaring high. In that moment, I felt incredibly... alive. I felt like a tiny piece of God's majestic creation, so insignificant and yet an essential part of the big picture. In that moment I could feel my connection to everything else in this universe that sings His praises. My heart sang along. 

The Best Birthday Yet

This year we celebrated my birthday at the rehab hospital where Amy was staying. Mom brought homemade ice cream, which was the first ice cream of any sort that I'd had since last summer. I wish I had words to describe how it felt and tasted on my tongue. But the joy of having all my family around me was sweeter still. We'd come so close to losing Amy just a month before. I'm sure I wasn't the only one with tears in my eyes while everyone sang Happy Birthday. 

Me, Emily, Amy, Melody, Rick

After the party, Allyson and I went to Mom's house. Melody's son Greg and his wife Jessica made dinner for the family. I thought I'd have to eat scrambled eggs since I'd forgotten to bring food and their meal had garlic, but Greg improvised a separate but equal meal for me. I was so touched by his kindness!

The next day, my actual birthday, Allyson and I made a strawberry cake from freshly ground sprouted wheat and iced it with cottage cheese maple frosting. My friend Kim and her family came from down the street to sing me Happy Birthday, and they brought me a beautiful bouquet which has made me feel so loved for two weeks now. 

Kitchen after making cake... Allyson wouldn't let me clean it on my birthday.
But neither did she!

We packed up the rest of the cake and headed to Rick's house, where the rest of the family had gathered to spend a bit more family time. While they had pizza, I ate the rest of my delicious chicken and pasta from Greg. And then we all had some cake. The cake carrier had slid off Allyson's seat just as we pulled up to Rick's house, so the cake didn't look so pretty, but it tasted pretty wonderful! Cake is a big treat for me these days.

One more thing happened on my birthday that felt like a bizarre little gift from God. My very cheap painter, Rico, hadn't had time to paint the bathroom cabinets two weeks before, and I'd been trying to reach him ever since to arrange it. He's so cheap and so good that he is booked at least a month out, and he rarely returns calls. I would've just given up on the idea because my old cabinets looked fine with the new color, but I had put several paint samples on the cabinets and they looked awful. On my birthday morning, I prayed about it. "Could you please help me reach Rico? Please, God."

About two minutes later, as I set my breakfast dishes in the sink, I saw a white van across the street. A ladder hung across the side closest to me. Hey, wasn't that... Yes, there was Rico's young assistant in my friend Ana's yard.

I tucked my nightgown into my sweat pants, zipped up my windbreaker, and slipped into some shower thongs, then rushed across the street to corner Rico in the yard just before he reached Ana's front door.

I was fairly sure he'd been avoiding me, maybe because my project turned out to be so much bigger than initially planned. But I grinned widely. "Hi!" I said. "Remember my bathroom cabinets? Do you think you could-"

"I paint them today?" he asked.

"Absolutely. Yes, whenever you're ready," I said.

I ran back across the street and washed and dried those cabinets, just in time for Rico to prime them in between coats on Ana's kitchen.

By early afternoon, I had lovely new cabinets. Happy birthday to me!

Wisdom From the Mouths of Babes
Last Monday, Allyson and I went shopping for my job fair outfit. We spent an entire evening and didn't find anything we really liked. Even though we were both horribly frustrated, we still had some great conversation. I confessed that the impending job fair had brought on a few momentary bouts of panic as I once again wondered whether I'd really heard God correctly about leaving my great job to go back to the classroom.

Allyson replied, "Mommy, you know that whatever happens, even if you are making a mistake, God will use it for your good. Because He always works for good for those who love Him."

"Yes, you're right, baby."

"Also, you've been praying for God's will, so I'm sure He will tell you somehow if it is not His will. Or He will block you from getting a job."

"Yes, that's true," I said, grinning ear to ear.

"God will always be with you wherever you go, and I know you will make a big impact on some children," she concluded.

That evening, I left a sink full of dishes to spend some much needed time in my prayer closet. "Oh, Father," I breathed. "I know you won't leave me wandering around in the dark. You're not that kind of a father. You always lead me, and you never forsake me."

For ten sweet minutes, I praised God for the wonderful plans I know He has for me. I told Him I only want what He wants for me, and I don't have to know what's coming because I know His plans for me are always better than what I could think up for myself. I look forward to telling you the story as it unfolds.

Torture at the Job Fair
The job fair was a very positive experience, and I learned a lot from talking with several principals. One even told me how to rearrange my resume and make it more concise so that principals may actually read it. I followed her advice promptly, and if I end up getting a job, I believe it will be due to that divine appointment.

That morning got off to a rather rough start, though. I'd bought a pair of dress pants that were really long, so I had to wear heels even though I knew I'd be on my feet for hours. Well, I didn't even make it out of the parking lot before I had charlie horses in my toes. There were thousands of applicants, and I had to park about a third of a mile out, up a big hill. All my weight bore down on my poor toes as I hobbled down that hill, being passed by absolutely everybody. I felt so ridiculous, but so fashionable!

Night Before the Big Day-See Pretty Boots

I stopped in a crowded bathroom, sank onto a toilet, and removed my left shoe. What a horrible idea! Two of my toes immediately contorted into a violent spasm, and I had to stifle my shriek of pain lest someone think I was having severe digestive issues. At first I feared I'd never get those misshapen toes back into my shoe. I rubbed and rubbed the sole of my foot, and finally I was able to cram my foot back into its prison, like one of Cinderella's ugly stepsisters forcing on a dainty glass slipper.

So the whole time I was talking to principals and HR representatives about my many qualifications, I had to tune out the indignant howls of my tortured feet. I plastered a smile on my face and tried to walk with some semblance of grace. After three hours, I managed to totter back up the hill to my car, where I promptly took off my shoes and socks and promised my feet I'd never wear heels again.

One More Walk in the Park
Tonight I had a free evening, and I'd planned to try the mid-week service at a new church I love, but I really felt too exhausted to go out, and there was no time to figure out what to make for dinner. I'd planned to have garbanzo beans, but when I put them out to soak last night, I accidentally turned on the Crock-Pot, so this morning I found them burned to a crisp.

"What should I do tonight, God?" I asked.

"Go for a walk," He said.

I put on my Five-Finger shoes, grabbed a zucchini muffin, and headed out. It was every bit as lovely as the walk I described earlier, and I had a wonderful chat with God. It had been a somewhat disheartening day at work, but my troubles floated away on the gentle breeze.

On my way back, I ran into my good friend Nosheen and her three small children. I turned around and walked the same path I'd just traversed, talking with her all the while. She was looking pretty frazzled because her husband was out of town, and her toddler had woken her at 2 a.m. At intervals, the toddler and the two-month-old screamed out the frustration that Nosheen surely felt. But she just smiled grimly and kissed their sweaty cheeks. "Ush-ush," she murmured.

I gave her a hug when we arrived at her house. "I asked God what to do tonight, and He told me to go for a walk. I think He wanted me to spend time with you," I said.

She grinned. "Yes, I am glad we got to talk," she said.

Just as I was thanking God for such a lovely surprise, I spotted sweet Kim, who'd given me the birthday flowers. Her daughter Claire shouted, "It's Sa-rah!" as she ran down the sidewalk toward me. Kim opened a double camp chair in her driveway, and we sat and talked into the twilight.

Back at home, I had a meal fit for a princess: two eggs fried in avocado oil and toaster-oven-roasted bell peppers. Surely I am blessed among women!

Hang Onto the Raft!

In my last entry, I told you that I've been longing to be free of my need to control everything. If only I could just make a list of necessary actions and check off each step! But the list is the problem. I keep trying harder and harder to let go, but of course it doesn't work that way. All attempts at perfecting myself only leave me hopelessly frustrated, utterly worn out.

I've been praying about this for months, and God has given me an assurance that He is working on me. In the good moments, I've felt not only peace, but exhilaration at the idea of being free. First, I pictured myself clinging to the edge of a cliff, knuckles white, clawing in desperation as I lost my grip. Deliberately, I imagined peeling my fingers loose and letting myself fall, fall... only to be borne up by a gentle wind current. I imagined myself floating peacefully on the breeze like a flying squirrel, or even soaring like an eagle.

Well, that's not exactly what God had in mind. On a walk in the park a few weeks back, He gave me a different analogy. In my favorite part of the park, I recalled something I'd read in a devotional about being caught in the current of God's Spirit. At the time, I'd found great comfort in the idea of leaving my plans behind and floating down God's river to some beautiful destination.

I paused next to the dry stream bed which only a few weeks earlier had been swollen with rain. "God, I trust you," I prayed. "I want to relax and let your current take me wherever you want me to go." I thought about the agonizing anxiety that I'd been battling for weeks. A couple of tears trickled down my cheeks. "Even here, God. Even here."

Let the Spring Come

If you've been reading long, you may remember my former passion for gardening and all the mishaps we encountered along the way with The Family Garden at our old house. For the last couple of years, I'd been wanting to start a new garden, but the very thought of it made me tired. Bill had done all the hard work the first time, plus all the watering, and I'd found it difficult to keep up with the weeding. Honestly, I've always had a black thumb. So gardening was one of the things I let slip when I started my life as a too-busy, always tired single mom.

One thing I picked back up this semester, with great joy, was ladies' Bible study at my church, We've been doing a very different sort of study called 7: Staging Your Own Mutiny Against Excess, by Jen Hatmaker. The study challenges us to examine seven areas of excess in this entitled, self-indulgent culture: food, clothes, possessions, media, waste, spending, and stress.

If we had more time, I'd tell you about all the changes that little book has inspired in me. For now, I'll just say that it's very convicting. Even the chapters that I thought surely didn't apply to me--such as Spending--really made me take a hard look at how I live and how I think about myself, my family, and others.

The chapter on waste was another that I didn't think I needed so much. After all, I already recycle, I don't buy bottled water, I do buy organic produce, and I shop in the bulk section at my beloved Sprout's Farmer's Market. But I found that I did have a lot to learn, and plenty of room for improvement. I particularly loved the way Jen separated ecology from politics and reminded us that God has commanded us all to be good stewards. She posed some tough questions, like "Why don't we care for the earth anywhere near to the degree we do our bodies?... Why don't we fuss and examine and steward creation with the same tenacity?... Do we think ourselves so superior to the rest of creation that we are willing to deplete the earth to supply our luxuries?"

I made one commitment that week: I've gone back to reusable grocery bags. I'd started using plastic again because those bags are very convenient for cleaning the cats' litter boxes. As I thought about what I could change, I realized that I could just use one trash bag per week, storing it in the old litter tub where I stash the full grocery bags. It's a little smellier that way, but really not a big sacrifice.

The video that week got me thinking about gardening again, not just because we could potentially eat vegetables straight from the ground, but also because there's just something about gardening that fosters a love for the earth. That's what I want to teach my kids.

Despite my willing spirit, my weak flesh was pretty stressed over all the work this would entail. How would I have time to plan it all, let alone carry it out?

Yes, My God is Good

Have you ever had a day that was supposed to be no fun, but it ended up being the most amazing day? A day that was totally not what you planned for yourself, but it turned out all for your good? Today was one of those days for me.

I don't know what it is lately with my appliances, my house, my pets, etc., but it seems like one little trial after another. This time, it was my car. I'd been noticing some stains on my driveway the last few days, some sort of fluid but not oil. It seemed like it was coming from my car, but I couldn't be sure because a lot of Ethan's friends come and go, and most of them drive beaters--though my 2002 Nissan Sentra is probably older than any of theirs.

I kept moving my car to different quadrants of the driveway and watching for new stains, but I couldn't catch it leaking. I made a mental note to take the car in soon and then forgot about it.

When I dropped Ethan at school yesterday, I noticed that the car wasn't warming up. In fact, even after 15 minutes of driving, it still felt like the heater was blowing cold air. I switched it to the vents on the dash. Sure enough, cold air was coming out. No, wait. The passenger side was blowing warm air, but the driver side was cold. I jiggled the temperature knob back and forth several times, hoping it would fix itself, but no luck.

I found this highly ironic because my friend Lizzette had just commented on Saturday when we went to dinner that it was so nice having a car with heat. Her heater isn't working. And now mine wasn't. Had she jinxed me?

Last night after Celebrate Recovery, I notice that both vents were now blowing cold. Darn it! How much would this cost? Maybe I could just live with it. Ugh. Two more months of winter.

The next thing I noticed was more alarming. The temperature gauge on the instrument panel was pushing to the top of the normal range. In fact, I could see the needle slowly rising. Crap. It must be the radiator. How much would this cost?

My stomach tightened. I wasn't worried about paying for the repairs; thanks to Dave Ramsey, I have a fund for that. No, what concerned me was whether it might be time to sell my faithful old car. I've held onto it for 13 years now, and it has been so reliable. It looks pretty pathetic because the paint is wearing off in spots, but it runs beautifully and gets great gas mileage. My plan has been to keep it until Ethan finally gets his license--if he ever does--and then pass it on to him. I don't see any point in having two cars if I don't need them.

But I don't want to sink too much money into a car that probably is worth less than $2000. So I figure if I have a major breakdown, I'll have to part with it and buy Ethan something else. The tricky part is, where do I draw the line? A thousand dollars? Fifteen hundred? Given this car's amazing track record, doesn't it make sense to put a little money into it? It's had only two other breakdowns in 188,788 miles (the alternator, both times). What if I buy something else that is less reliable?

These were the thoughts tumbling around in my head as I pulled into my driveway, with the needle now pointing to the H.

I also wondered how I would get Ethan to school this morning, and how I would get the car to the mechanic. I figured I needed to put water in the radiator, but I'd never done that before. A glance out the window told me that Neil, my 30-second hero, was in town. I knew he'd be happy to help with the car and with transportation, but I didn't want to bother him. For one thing, I didn't want to take advantage, and for another thing, I remembered my friend Gentle's encouragement to take this single life as an opportunity to learn some new things.

I was very, very tempted to text Neil, but I didn't. Instead, I prayed. I asked God to work everything out, to guide me through this and to take care of me, just as he had done with the plumbing problem the week before last. (Remember? A $110 plumbing bill? Whoever heard of that?) I told God that even if the answer was getting a new car instead of fixing this one, I would trust His timing.

I decided that I would put water in the radiator myself, and I would ask my friend Kim to take me to the mechanic today. I also called my ex-husband Bill for advice--a total of three times. With his help, I figured out how to open the hood--I knew how to pop it from the inside, but not how to unlatch it--and also the timing of pouring in the water, turning on the engine, and pouring more water. I did all that this morning in time to get Ethan to school right on schedule. I was feeling almost as proud as I'd felt when I fixed the garbage disposal by myself, two days before the plumbing incident.

That lasted about four blocks, until I noticed that the needle was rising toward the H right before my eyes. "I don't know if we can make it to school, Ethan," I said, just as we pulled up to a four-way stop.

"Hey, look. It's Tin!" Ethan replied, pointing to the car on our right. Sure enough, it was his old middle school friend, whom I hadn't seen in years. If you've been reading a very, very long time and have a prodigious memory, you may remember Tin as the one who enjoyed (!) helping Ethan dispose of a dead cat we found in our yard. He's also the one who helped Bill and Ethan fell many of my beloved trees when we got the pool.

Timberr!!

Ethan and Tin, 2009

"I bet he could take you to school," I said, pulling over to the curb.

"No, Mom. Don't-"

"I'll try to flag him down," I said, rolling down my agonizingly slow driver's window. (That window motor is on its last leg. I need to get that fixed.)

Whew! The window rolled open just as Tin drove by. I waved wildly, avoiding eye contact with Ethan, who had probably sunk down to the floorboard by that point.

Tin slowed his car to a crawl and rolled his passenger window down, "Good to see you," he called politely as he passed.

"CAN YOU TAKE ETHAN TO SCHOOL?" I screamed--because he was a few feet past us by now.

He stopped, and I pulled up alongside. "My car is overheating. Can you take Ethan to school?"

"Sure," he said with a smile.

"Oh, thank you so much."

As I turned back for home, I marveled at God's goodness. In all these years, even though Tin lives just around the corner, we've never run into him on the way to school. Well, not since the days when he walked to school. Surely God had sent a ride for Ethan, right to the very corner where my car was overheating, right at the very moment we arrived. What are the odds?

Kim graciously agreed to follow me to the mechanic, even though she is frantically studying for a physical therapy licensing exam that's coming up next week. We had the most lovely talk on the way back, which continued as we lingered at my driveway.

Now this next part is pretty ironic. Who do you think texted me about my car repair just a few minutes later? I'll tell you. It was Neil. He was helping his friend Wade at the shop, and when he saw my car of course he had to tease me. He told me it was a cracked head, and it would probably cost $2000 to rebuild the engine. I figured he was kidding, but I replied that it must be time to get a new car. He said yes he was kidding, and it should be less than $500. I said, "Good."

Several minutes later, he said, "You don't owe anything."

Again, I thought he might be kidding. But he wasn't.

On the way back to the shop, I told Kim the whole story. I told her I believe all of the things that happened to me today were evidence of God taking care of me, a direct result of my prayers last night, when I turned everything over to God.

"Whether it was God or it wasn't," I said, "I believe that the biggest blessing God has given me is my friends. You are such a blessing, Kim. Not for the things you do for me, but because you are such a good friend. I'm so thankful."

"Aww," she said. "I'm not such a good friend."

"Oh, but you are!" I said, my eyes a bit moist.

Back at the shop, Wade informed me that the problem had been a leaky hose. He had checked all the other hoses, and there were no other problems. He handed me the keys.

I cleared my throat. "Um, Neil said there's no charge. Is that true?"

"Yes. You don't owe anything."

I thanked him profusely, and Neil also. And then I drove my 13-year-old car home with joy.

I'm still pinching myself. Whoever heard of a free car repair? That's even crazier than a $110 plumbing bill! I realize it was a very minor repair, but surely his labor was worth $50. And I'm sure he must have added antifreeze as well.

I pray God blesses Wade richly for his kindness. And Neil. And Kim. And Tin.

To borrow a phrase from my friend Gentle, I have to say that God really knocked my socks off today. When I texted the whole story to my dear cousin Jenny this afternoon, she replied, "You are blessed, woman. Your God is good."

Yes, I am. And He is.

Dog Days of Christmas

A few weeks ago, I posted an appeal on Facebook for a loving family to foster my friend Elizabeth's dog Zeus for a year. Her family was moving, and they couldn't take him to their rental house. [You long-time readers may remember my pet-sitting misadventure with Zeus, that time I made him dreadfully sick by feeding him cat food and then Bill had to clean up after him.]

Well, despite my ridiculous mistake, Elizabeth and Shawn trusted me to watch him and the cat many more times over the years, and I've grown quite fond of him. He is the best behaved, most mild mannered dog I've ever seen. But when she asked me if we could take him, I said that our house is really too small for a big German Shepherd and two cats. And also, I hate picking up dog poop. (I don't think I said that part out loud, but it was a reason.)

In addition to asking my friends to take Zeus, I did some praying, asking that God would place him with a family who would love him and take good care of him, a family who would find him to be a blessing.

As the deadline approached, my prayers intensified. Elizabeth had said he'd have to go to the shelter if no one would take him, and I couldn't bear to think of that gentle dog being put to sleep. A crazy thought slowly took form in my mind, and then in my heart. What if we took Zeus? Yes, our house is small, but at age 13, he's not a wild dog--nothing like naughty Lola.

"Well, God, I guess we could take him," I said. "But if there's another family who would be better for him, I trust you to work it out."

A few days passed, and no other family stepped forward. A week before moving day, I was driving Ethan to school when I broke the rule against talking before 9 in the morning. "You know Elizabeth and Shawn are moving?"

Ethan didn't answer.

"...and they can't take Zeus with them. So he will go to the shelter unless somebody takes him."

He looked out the window.

Keeping my voice casual, I said, "So, I'm almost tempted.... I was thinking maybe we could take him. It's crazy, though, because our house-"

"We should totally take him," Ethan said, with more enthusiasm than I've ever heard from him at that time of the morning.

"But I don't know how the cats will do with a dog. You know how crazy Arwen got over that cat in the backyard."

"The cats will be fine. We should take him."

"I'll pray about it."

"We should take him."

"Have a good day. I love you."

A few prayers later, I felt a softness in my heart. Didn't God put me on this earth to love? Doesn't Zeus need my love? Three animals, two animals? What's the difference?

That afternoon, I sent Elizabeth a text: "If no one else takes Zeus, we will foster him."

"I love you!!!!!!!" she replied.

I told both kids the exciting news, but warned them that we were just the last resort. "I'm trusting God to put him with the right family. It might not be us."

"He can sleep in my room," Ethan said. "I'll have to clean it up first."

Having a dog could have some perks, I thought.

About a week later, on Friday the 19th, Elizabeth brought Zeus over, along with a big bin of dog food, his bowls, and two beds. She taught me his voice commands and the corresponding hand signals for Sit, Stay, Go, Lay, and Up.

After she'd given me all the instructions she could think of and answered all my questions, she took her leave.

Zeus tried to follow her out the door.

"Stay, Zeus!" she said, holding her palm out in front of her like a stop sign.

He waited at the closed door. Was she coming back?

Yes, she was. She'd forgotten her purse. Again, he tried to go with her. "Stay, Zeus."

And then she was gone.

When Arwen and CiCi came out of hiding to investigate, both of them arched their backs and fluffed their tails. I found that fascinating. I'd seen them arch at each other in play, but I'd never seen the puffy tails. Arwen hissed menacingly, but Zeus didn't even notice. He was too concerned about where Elizabeth had gone.

He waited quietly by the door for a long, long time. Finally, I called him into my bedroom/office, where I'd laid out one of his beds. "Come in here with me," I said. I touched the bed with my index finger. "Lay down."

He lay down and stared at me dully. Oh, such sad eyes! I felt a lump forming in my throat.

Stroking him gently, I prayed for God's comfort. "Let him feel safe. Let him feel loved," I prayed. And then I cried. Over a dog. Can you believe that? I knew that must be the Holy Spirit moving me to compassion.

As soon as I sat down at my desk, Zeus went back to the front door to wait. That's where he stayed until Allyson came home from school.

Over the next few days, the cats cautiously watched him, getting closer and closer. Here they are looking down at Zeus, who was minding his own business lying on his bed just below them.

See the ridge of hair along Arwen's spine? And CiCi's fluffed tail?

CiCi warmed up to Zeus first, touching noses with him by the third day.

Zeus warmed up to us, too. Allyson, Ethan, and a few of their friends gave him lots of attention and love. But it seemed to be my attention he wanted most, maybe because I was hard to get. He'd walk up to me throughout the day and nudge my hand with his nose. I petted him awkwardly, grimacing at the hair that sloughed off each time I touched him.

On Saturday the 20th, day two, we took our Christmas card picture in front of our Charlie Brown tree, which looked much more bedraggled this year because I haven't figured out how to keep CiCi out of it. Allyson and I were determined to have all three pets in the picture, but Ethan was skeptical. He held Arwen, the most reluctant of the party.

Allyson's friend Ellie gamely took a few shots with Ethan's iPhone while we tried to keep the pets calm. Here's one that didn't make the cut:

This was the best we could do. I figure in ten years when our clothes and hair are ridiculously outdated, I can sell this picture to a greeting card company for one of those quirky cards that people love because they can relate. Real life isn't as pretty as your average photo card....

A Christmas Miracle
Just when I was starting to think of Zeus as one more branch on our crazy family tree, the story took an unexpected turn. On Christmas Eve, Allyson and I stopped by my friend Nicole's house to drop off the aforementioned Christmas card and a little gift. As we chatted on her porch, somehow the topic of Zeus came up. "I just can't believe we ended up with a dog," I said. "I am such a cat person. Definitely not a dog person."

"My kids have been wanting a dog," she said wistfully. "Our dog died recently, and they want another one."

"Maybe you could..."

"No, I don't have time to train a dog," she said. (As a home schooling single mom with three young children, she's possibly one of the few people who are busier than me.)

"Oh, but you wouldn't have to train Zeus," I said. "He's the best behaved dog I've ever seen." I sent Allyson to the car for my phone, and we showed her the pictures I've posted above.

"Oh, he reminds me of the German Shepherd we had when I was growing up," she said.

"He's such a good walker," I said. "I bet he could be your running buddy."

"Can I come see him?"

"Sure."

"How about now?" she asked. "I want to have some time with him before my kids come back from their dad's. This could be their Christmas present."

An hour later, I was teaching Nicole all Zeus's voice commands and their corresponding hand signals, giving her all the instructions I could think of and answering all her questions. She said she would take him on a trial basis until next week, when she'll need me to watch him while they go out of town.

"Oh, I've been pet-sitting him for years," I assured her. I didn't mention the time I'd poisoned him with cat food.

And then they were gone. And I was unaccountably sad.

When I broke the news to Ethan, he took it pretty hard.

"This is better for Zeus," I said. "He'll have a much bigger house and a bigger yard, and he can get lots of exercise running with Nicole. And we'll get to see him again whenever they go out of town."

Ethan wasn't convinced. "Why'd you take him if you were so ready to give him away?"

"I was only taking him until we could find another family," I said. "I'll keep praying. If he's meant to be our dog, it won't work out for her family."

It's been a few days, and Nicole says Zeus is doing well--except that he got tired when she took him for a run. "He was all happy at first," she explained, "but around mile three he started lagging behind. I almost had to drag him home."

Poor dog! By mile three she would've had to carry me home! Maybe he can work his way up.

"Well, if you change your mind, it's no problem," I said.

"Oh, I don't know about that," she said. "Let's wait and see how he does with the kids."

I'm sure her kids will love him at least as much as mine did. So I guess that's the end of our dog story. I'll keep you posted.

In Other Pet News
CiCi has gotten into so much mischief. It's a good thing God made her so cute!

Here she is after she jumped up on the table and helped herself to a tub of sour cream:

A few minutes later, that dollop of cream on her forehead was gone. I suspect big sister Arwen might have helped her with that.

I was horrified when Ethan asked what I'd done with the sour cream.

"I threw it away, of course!"

"Why?"

"Because CiCi was eating out of it."

"So?"

I frowned at him in disbelief.

But guess what happened a few days later? I was sitting down to a German oven pancake, left over from Christmas morning, when CiCi jumped on the table and snatched it right from under my fork!

She jumped down with the pancake in her mouth, and I tore off after her. Despite her growling, I jerked that pancake back. And I ate it!!! (I can't believe I'm telling you that. You'd have to try a German oven pancake to understand.)

I don't know what I'm going to do with that naughty cat. No matter how many times I spray her with vinegar water and set her on the floor, she will not stop jumping on the table. And now she can jump up on the kitchen counters, too, which is a big problem. If anyone has any pointers, I'd be most grateful.

All Hiss
One more story, and then I'll turn in for the night.

Remember the video I posted in my last entry of Arwen going berserk over a strange cat in our backyard? I am now pet-sitting for that cat, who lives right next door. Her name is Emma, and she's very fat. She has diabetes, so she drinks a LOT, which also means she pees a LOT. But she is very sweet.

Tonight, Ethan texted me that Emma had slipped into our house when he came in. He hadn't noticed for about 20 minutes. After that, he held her and petted her for a long time. "She's so chubby and cute," he said.

I thought of Arwen's enraged screams just a couple weeks before.

"Wasn't there a cat fight??" I asked. "Did Arwen see her?"

"Yeah, but she just stood there frozen," he answered.

I guess she is all hiss and no scratch. Whew!

Every Day Is Kitten Day

Okay, as always I don't have any time, but I've just got to share a few cat stories. I'll go way back to the beginning....

Wednesday, October 22nd was the big day when we got to pick up CiCi. That week of waiting was torture for Allyson, who counted down the days to Kitten Day several times per day.

At long last, the day arrived. We brought our 1.5-pound kitty home in a carrier, lined with her favorite blankie. Tucked under my arm was a spiral notebook with frantically scribbled notes that I probably never actually referred back to.

I was most nervous about introducing CiCi to Arwen. She made wide circles around the carrier, nose twitching. When Ethan opened the wire door and CiCi stepped out, I heard Arwen hiss for the very first time. Over the course of a few days, the cats approached each other cautiously and even touched noses, but it usually ended with Arwen hissing. I had to keep them apart, which is how CiCi ended up taking over my master bathroom.

On the first morning, I crept into Allyson's room and snuggled up to her. "Good morning, beloved princess, daughter of the Most High."

Her brow furrowed, and she turned her back to me.

"Good morning, Kitten Mama. Happy Kitten Day."

She grinned.

"You said Wednesday was Kitten Day," she murmured.

"It was. But now every day is Kitten Day," I said. "Okay, Kitten Mama. Your baby is crying for you."

It was true. CiCi cried plaintively, stretching her tiny front legs through the bars of her carrier to touch Allyson's arm. (Every night since CiCi came, Allyson has slept on her roll-out mattress on the floor, with CiCi's carrier next to her head.)

At first we fed CiCi a revolting blend of kitten formula mixed with wet cat food, which she sucked greedily from a medicine syringe. She chewed the tip of the syringe, turning her head from side to side so that much of the slop ended up in her fur, leaving her smelling perpetually like tuna. Worse, she clawed frantically at the syringe, scratching our fingers in the process.

So we quickly abandoned the syringe in favor of a saucer on the floor of my bathtub. In her excitement, CiCi walked all through the food, tracking it all over the tub and smearing it over her belly, so that she still smelled perpetually like tuna.

Gradually, we phased out the kitten formula and just gave her the wet food. And on the first day that she dove into Arwen's full bowl and stole some food, we started dropping a few pellets of dry food onto her plate.

Since then, we've had to lock her up when Arwen eats. Otherwise, she makes a beeline for the bowl. While Arwen stands back politely, CiCi climbs right into the bowl and growls menacingly as she gobbles as much as she can get down before I gingerly pull her out, holding her by her chubby belly and trying to avoid her razor-sharp claws.

Allyson and I had to watch Gremlins recently so she'd understand what I meant when I said that our sweet little CiCi turns into a mean Gremlin any time she gets around food. Even when she's alone in her bathtub, she growls quietly and kind of mutters to herself while she eats.

CiCi's not the only cat who's obsessed with food. Arwen is always on the lookout for any wet food CiCi might have missed. The moment I open the bathroom door to let CiCi out, the two cats pass each other on the way to check each other's bowl for leftovers.

They've become pretty good buddies, mostly. They love to tussle. CiCi seems to be the aggressor, but Arwen subdues her with a well placed bite now and then. Sometimes a sharp little cry from CiCi sends me running to separate them. Arwen gives me a guilty look, as if to say, "What? I didn't do anything."

Early on, Arwen started grooming CiCi, which always warms our hearts. CiCi isn't sure what she thinks of that, especially when Arwen holds her with both paws and gives her a good bath. CiCi kicks at Arwen's face with claws extended, and then the grooming session usually turns into a wrestling match.

The cutest thing is when they sleep side by side on Arwen's favorite perch on the back of the couch. That cushion has seen better days, but do you think I mind? I have become such a cat person!

Both cats are very nice nap buddies. We discovered this when Allyson and I were in bed for days with the flu recently. CiCi slept on Allyson's chest, which surely was good medicine. On the day I thought I was up to returning to work but ended up taking a five-and-a-half hour "nap," CiCi and Arwen were with me nearly the whole time. CiCi made a nest between my knees, and Arwen slept on my shin. 

This past Sunday, I was feeling particularly exhausted after church, still sapped from the flu, I think. We'd be putting up the tree that night, and I told God I really didn't feel up to that. We couldn't put it off any longer, though, because Allyson would be at Bill's for the next two days.

"Oh, Father," I prayed silently, over a sink full of dishes. "I'm so tired. Please give me strength to make it through this day. Help me to enjoy decorating the tree, for the kids' sake. Okay, for Allyson's sake." (Ethan had been less than enthusiastic about decorating the tree last Christmas, so I wasn't expecting much.)

God told me to leave those dishes and go take a nap. I set the microwave timer for 35 minutes, allowing 5 minutes to fall asleep and 30 minutes to sleep--which is my maximum, if I don't want to feel groggy for the rest of the day. 

The moment I fell into my nap chair, Arwen climbed onto the ottoman and curled up in the crook of my knees. Ah! And then CiCi climbed into my lap and curled herself around my belly. I smiled my thanks to God as I felt an infusion of joy giving me strength even as I slipped out of consciousness. 

When the beeping timer pulled me out of sleep about 33 minutes later, I was ready to face  both the dishes and the Christmas tree.

God had a wonderful surprise in store for me. After Allyson and I had put up the tree, Ethan came right out when I called him. He cheerfully hung all of his own ornaments and a bunch of the others, even the boring red and green balls (most of which Arwen and CiCi removed over the course of the next few days).

We drank some eggnog and then all three of us sat on the couch to admire the tree while I read the first few stories from our Jesse Tree book, which outlines Christ's lineage. 

Next, I read The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey, which never fails to make me cry. This year was no exception. 

What a delightful evening! This Christmas season, God has been blessing me with so many little joys, filling my heart to overflowing. When I think back to last year, I remember how lavishly He showed me his love--with the scripture-stuffed stocking from my friend Gentle and the cross painting from my sweet niece Hillary. This year, I want to give out that lavish love. God has put many ideas in my heart, ways to share His love with friends, family, and strangers. What a sweet pleasure. 

So, back to the cat stories... 

Within 15 minutes, the cats had run off with the tree skirt. I remembered last year, when Arwen drug it all over the house. This year I'm not even bothering to put it back. It will just lie in random places until Christmas Eve, when I weight it down with presents. 

We keep a big spray bottle with water and a bit of vinegar on the hearth, right by the tree, and I spray the cats liberally if they touch the tree. The temptation is too great, though. Every time my back's turned, CiCi bats at the branches or even nestles on a branch halfway up the tree. When she spots me, she tries to flee the scene, but I chase her down with the spray bottle. It's actually pretty fun. 

A Confusing Family Tree

Allyson considers herself CiCi's mama, which makes me... Grandma. Yes, Allyson calls me grandma when she's talking to CiCi. Ethan is Uncle, but sometimes he's Brother. And Arwen is Big Sister, which kind of makes her Ethan's sibling.

It's weird family dynamic, but it works!

Some Weird Cat Psychology

Okay, now for the stories I've been dying to tell you. First, a strange cat has been hanging around our backyard for the last week or so. The first day it showed up, Arwen cried like a baby as she watched it through the window. "How sweet! She wants to play," I thought. 

And then she started hurling herself against the window, rattling the blinds. She screamed and hissed, struggling to get to the other cat, who was hissing at her from the other side of the glass. 

If you don't find a cat's screams stressful, take a look for yourself...

Before this, I'd had no idea that our mild kitty had such a temper. It was pretty amusing until Arwen turned on CiCi, arching her back and hissing. I quickly separated them.

I've watched them closely since then, and Arwen seems as motherly as ever. But tonight a high-pitched shriek from CiCi brought me running to the living room. I found Arwen crouched at the back door, moaning piteously. That stupid cat was back. 

I don't know what Arwen had done to CiCi, but she seemed pretty spooked. When Arwen took a step toward her, she arched her back, all her fur standing on end. Allyson scooped her up and cradled her like a baby. "I won't let Arwen hurt you," she crooned. 

Arwen isn't the only cat acting weird. A few days ago, I was sitting at my desk when I heard loud purring coming from the bathroom. CiCi was sitting on the fuzzy bath mat alone, sounding like a vibrating engine. 

"Why is CiCi purring?" I asked Allyson. "She's just sitting on the rug by herself." 

"Oh, she always purrs when you put her on the mat," Allyson said.

"Why?"

"I don't know. She just likes it."

I went into the bathroom for a closer look. CiCi was sucking noisily on some rug fibers, kneading the rug luxuriously with her claws spread wide. "Allyson, she's trying to nurse the rug!" I said.

I grabbed my phone and took a video. If you turn up the volume, you might be able to hear CiCi purring.

Because I usually drape the mat over the shower door to keep CiCi from tracking kitty litter onto it, she doesn't have much time with it. Every time they are reunited during one of our showers, she purrs and nurses.

Have you ever heard of something so bizarre? 

It's humbling, actually. I'd been feeling so loved each time CiCi greeted me in the mornings with her loud purring. Now I realize that she feels the same way about my bath mat!

It's never a dull moment around here. Every day is Kitten Day.