My granddaughter Mrs. Nisky made her daddy a special present for Christmas, because he has read The Lord of the Rings over fifteen times. I guess that makes him a fan of J.R.R. Tolkien.

Here’s how her project turned out:

She walked to Grandma’s house after school several times in the last three months, and worked on it little by little. When everything was finally modeled and baked, she glued it together and gently put it in a box for wrapping. It even has Gandalf’s secret mark on it.

Isn’t it fantastic?

I’ve been awake since about 5:10 this morning because of Edith. Now that she’s a post-menopausal Schnauzer, I’m pretty sure she has bladder control issues, and she noisily jumps off the bed every morning when it’s still blackdark, needing to go out. I dare not ignore her, because if I turn over and go back to sleep she could eventually just pick a place in my bedroom to go. I would never see it because I have an acre of thick, Swedish shag carpet, but in a few days I might detect a whiff in the air when I walk into my bedroom. I could search and search this big room, even enlisting grandchildren to crawl around on their hands and knees to see if they can find the offending invisible spot so I can scrub it, and might not ever find where Edith found her relief.

So basically I’m saying my life revolves around the weakening bladder tone of a deaf and elderly Schnauzer.

This early morning jingle-jangle of the name tag on her collar, and her restless snuffling and pacing is about as active as she gets. It’s downhill from there as the day progresses, because Edith sleeps so much now. She’ll be fourteen in March.

This is how Edith can be seen most any hour of the day.

I will be seeing four of my grandchildren today. Later this morning, Vivienne and Audrey will be performing in a play at our local community playhouse. They’re in Little Red Riding Hood and Vivie plays the lead. Audrey has a secondary part I never knew was in this story, but I’m sure they will both stun me with their acting debuts and I will probably sit in the audience and sob quietly. I do that a lot when observing the wonder I find in my grands. They overwhelm me with their lives and humor and tenderness and beauty.

Then I’ll come home and set to cookie baking. I’m trying to figure out if I want to lug the unwieldy but efficient Kitchen Aid mixer up from the basement to mix the dough for my Spicy Molasses Cookies. Tomorrow is our mother/daughter cookie exchange and my three daughters and I will all be having lunch at a local Japanese restaurant before exchanging what we baked.

Then later this afternoon, Li’l Gleegirl and Louiser will be coming to spend a couple of hours with Grandma. Their daddy is at a Lego Robotics conference with older sister Mrs. Nisky, and big brother Mr. McBoy is at a boy scout leadership weekend. Their mama has a photography session. I’m not sure what the girls and I will do, but I’m fairly sure it will involve books, peanuts and raisins, Magformers, lots of conversation and some good snuggles.

The Christmas CD we have playing almost non-stop in our dining room stereo right now is Rick Steves’ European Christmas. I also watched his TV special recently about Christmas in Europe and found it utterly transporting. My favorite was the segment on Christmas in Switzerland, and if you would like to see the short clip, click here. 

At the two minute mark, you can see them slide down the mountain toward Gimmelwald after having cut down their tree in the snowy forest. I don’t know what those bicycle/sled contraptions are called, but I want one, and I want to ride it down the mountain into Gimmelwald at dusk just like they did. I want the torches, I want the goats, I want the snow (for a month anyway), I want the Swiss cowbells, the fondue around small carved Swiss tables, and I want to feel a part of something ancient and traditional.

I’d love to know which of you reading this post would like to ride one of those dealy-bobs too?

Well, the sun is rising and it’s time to get dressed and start my day. I have a standing date with my gratitude journal, two devotionals, and my Bible and CBS lesson.

Have a blessed weekend!

Hello friends….I hope you’re all finding some time to rest and experience the peace and wonder of this season.

Each year around Christmas, Sara fills our three outdoor flower boxes with assorted evergreens, branches, and large ornaments. This year she added some pampas grass too. These planters are each almost five feet long and they hang on our front deck. The ornaments nestled amongst the greenery are about the size of honeydew melons. Even though I love the flowers she plants in these boxes each spring, I think the winter arrangements are my favorite. Here’s a photo of one…you can click to enlarge if you like…clicking twice makes the photos large enough to see more details:

We always say the various pine branches and the blue and silver ornaments look best with a lovely coating of fresh snow, so we’re waiting for a good storm. Apparently El Niño is going to bring us a mild winter in Minnesota; indeed everyone in our area is talking about how we haven’t had much snowfall this season, and how unseasonably warm our temperatures have been. Our balmy forecast for the coming week is for the low forties…in Decembers past we’ve expected below-zero temps at night and have had two feet of snow on the ground.

In a little over a week my three daughters and I will have our annual cookie exchange. We’ll go out to lunch together and then come back to my house to pick up the two dozen cookies each of us will have made, so we end up with six dozen, plus whatever we keep from our own batches. I just CANNOT figure out what I’m going to do with six dozen various Christmas cookies! Hahaha. I’m making my favorite Christmas recipe, Soft and Spicy Molasses Cookies. Michael used to love to dip these in his coffee.

I always wear slippers in the house from around September until April of each year, and I’ve come to appreciate certain characteristics in the ones I gravitate toward buying. They have to be slip-ons, they should have enclosed heels, and I prefer if they are loafer-like and don’t cover my ankles. I also like for them to have a rubber sole of some sort, since I often step out onto the front deck to call the dogs in, to fetch the mail, or to gaze at the stars at night before I go to bed. Even better are when my slippers are machine washable. Rarely do I care how they look.

Well, I was searching the Acorn slipper website last week, and lo and behold, here’s what I found:

I’ve never added “must have many brightly appliqued cardinals” to my list of slipper prerequisites, but from now on I just might. When I opened these up and slipped them on my feet I had the fleeting thought that I may now be approaching Cardinal Overload. The second fleeting thought I had was… “I don’t care.” These make me smile and they keep my feet warm, so who am I to impose a cardinal limitation on myself?

This morning before driving to the mall area to look for a plaid scarf/shawl, I drove up to the cemetery. I live very close to Lake Superior, and that huge body of water has a warming effect on the weather close to its shores, hence our lack of snow. However, if I drive one mile away from the Lake, up over the hill that leads inland, there’s snow on the ground. There was close to three inches at the cemetery and I took a picture of Michael’s grave, looking toward the morning sun. The distant pond in the photo is where I saw two men on ice skates playing hockey last week.

Sara will also be making a wreath this week to hang on the cross-shaped wreath hanger in front of his grave.

It has been 298 days since Michael went home to Jesus. It comforts me to think that when I go to the furthest reaches in my mind of what beauty, peace, grandeur and joy must be like in heaven, I can’t even come close to imagining what he’s experiencing. (“But just as it is written, ‘Things that no eye has seen, or ear heard, or mind imagined, are the things God has prepared for those who love him.'” — 1 Corinthians 2:9)

I spent some time today with my granddaughter Mrs. Nisky, Sharon and Chris’s second child. She has been coming over now and then so we can work on her math lessons together, and after those are finished she works on a project she’s making for her daddy for Christmas. I’ll show pictures of it here on the blog after he opens it. We also like to read out loud for a good long while before she goes home, and the book we’re enjoying now is a childhood favorite of mine called The Pink Motel by Carol Ryrie Brink.

As I sit here tonight with my (cardinal decorated) feet up on Michael’s recliner, the tree lights glow nearby and I can hear both Schnauzers breathing deeply as they doze stretched out on their sides. Dinner is done, Phoebe the parakeet’s cage has been covered, and in less than two hours I’ll be turning in for the night myself. I look forward to working tomorrow on the sharing I’ll do on Tuesday morning at Community Bible Study. I have a rough outline completed, but may have to just dive head-first into the mental oatmeal I always encounter when writing what I pray God puts on my heart. I’m planning a short PowerPoint slideshow to go with it, and that’s always a fun thing for me to do.

What are your plans for the weekend? I hope your sleep is deep and love abounds between you and all of your dears….

Blessings,

1.  It’s minus nineteen degrees (minus twenty-eight Celsius) on our front deck this morning. But it was minus forty-seven in two of Minnesota’s coldest cities this morning: Babbitt and Embarrass. Yes, these are apt names for cities that get this cold.

2.  I made delicious creamy chicken, vegetable and wild rice soup for dinner last night, and we have enough left over to have it again tonight. Salad, crusty bread and hot soup. I could live on those three things.

3.  Against my better judgment, I gave Mildred and Edith a piece of cooked chicken as I was making the soup yesterday. Edith doesn’t always tolerate different foods and throws up easily in her old age.

4.  I was cleaning dog puke from deep shag bedroom carpet early this morning while it was still dark outside, and minus nineteen degrees.

5.  I have now cleaned a Schnauzer butt two times this morning and it’s only just 8:00 a.m. Edith has diarrhea. I am not ashamed to say that even though it’s probably my fault she’s sick, I stood at the kitchen sink washing my hands after I scrubbed her and said in a whiny voice, “Please Lord. Please.”

6.  I have this candle burning right now and our house smells like what I am certain heaven could smell like.

7.  Michael and I started a read-through-the-Bible-in-two-years plan yesterday. If you’d like to try it yourself, click here. (the link for the PDF plan is at the end of the post.)

8.  I have been doing some mindless and unfruitful things lately, like watching Seasons 1 and 2 of “Grey’s Anatomy” (which I’ve never watched before and sometimes wonder why I’m watching now) and eating Oreo peanut butter cookies.

9. Michael is confused a lot of the time these days, especially in the middle of the night, and I now get to be the bossy woman who tells him every single thing he ever needs to do for the rest of his life. “Your autopilot has up and flown, Michael,” is what the Occupational Therapist told him gently, and of course we knew this is what Parkinson’s does to the brain. He can’t do the next obvious thing. So here’s how I sound every night, all the time, when I sense him stirring next to me. (And these phrases are said quietly with long pauses in between each, over the course of about five minutes, and only when needed.) “Do you have to go to the bathroom? Okay, stand up. Turn this way. We’re going to walk toward that door. Wait. Take big steps. No, bigger. Hold on. Try again. Okay, through that door. A little closer. Closer to the toilet. Stand on the rug, a little closer. I’ll hold your cane. No, don’t close the lid, lift it up. It’s okay. You can go. No, you didn’t go yet, try again. Michael, please try to go. Okay, you’re going! Thank you Lord, thank you. Try to go some more, that was just a tiny bit. Okay, now turn toward me, take some bigger steps. This way, toward the door. Wait. I’ll help you so you don’t fall. You can trust me. Yes, here’s the cane. Toward the bed now. Ooops, bigger steps. No, this way. Okay. Now let’s put your cane down on the floor, not in the bed. I’ll help you move over. Put your head on the pillow. No, the pillow, right here. Good. Okay here are your covers. We don’t have to get up for two more hours, so try to go to sleep. It’s still dark out.” And so on. You wouldn’t speak to a young child in this way because a young child’s autonomic nervous system is working and they know all the steps they need to do when you say, “It’s time for bed” or “let’s go potty.” All the unspoken things our amazing brains do? They need to be spoken out for Michael now.

10.  Eight of my nine female offspring and I went to a gorgeous Jacobean mansion recently to take a self-guided tour. We live very close to this beautiful home and it was fun to see it decorated for Christmas, and to hear the little girls say which bedroom they would choose if one of the many rooms could be their own. Little Louisa did not attend because at eighteen months she isn’t interested in Jacobean mansions yet.

Above, from left: Vivienne, Sara, Mrs. Nisky, Clara, Li’l Gleegirl, Sharon, Audrey and Carolyn. My heart almost explodes when I look at this picture. I have no idea how to come close to expressing the depth of love and emotion and prayers I have for these young women. It gets stronger day by day. I know all you mothers understand exactly what I’m talking about.

11.  We had our roof shoveled yesterday. The snow was piling up so high and I started hearing occasional scary cracks and pops above me, so I knew it was time to call a crew. It took four men three hours to clear the roof of snow and then shovel it all off the deck and driveway where they’d thrown it.

12.  Our new mandated health care will not be a good thing for us. The websites have been messed up, we will pay a lot more money for less coverage and higher (triple) deductibles, and I am having trouble deciding which company to choose. I have yet to talk with one person who likes or is better off by the changes.

13. As I mentioned previously, my word for the year is “gentle.” Here’s a quote I found to be jarring, but likely:

“I learned that it is the weak who are cruel, and that gentleness is to be expected only from the strong.”  Unknown

And here’s my mandate from my heavenly Father for 2014, with my name inserted to remind me that He really is speaking to us through His Word…

Julie, rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!
Let your gentleness be evident to all, Julie.
The Lord is near.
Julie, do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.
And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding,
will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.  

Philippians 4:4-7

What is your Thursday Thirteen? Or your Thursday Three?

Hello my friends. You know, I really do consider my faithful blog readers friends. Who but a friend would take time out of their busy life to read a few words and see some pictures on a little rambling blog? I’ve known some of you for decades from my SoCal days (hi Denel! hi Tauni! hi Shari! hi Su!), know some of you from my many years in Minnesota (hi Carey! hi Linda! hi Sue! hi Diane! hi Ginny!), know a few of you because we’ve gone to the same church or are in a group together (hi Gail! hi Lorna! hi Pat! hi Kay J! hi Jodi! hi Kristi!) and I’ve “met” some of you through the internet even though we’ve never been together face to face (hi Kay S! hi Jeannie! hi Ember! hi Helen! hi Roberta! hi Connie! hi Linda!), and some of you are truly family (hi Sharon! hi Carolyn! hi Sara! hi Christy! hi Savannah! hi Dorothy! hi Debbie! hi Lauren!). If I haven’t mentioned your name it’s not because I didn’t care to, it’s because my 56 year-old memory has become sieve-like in the past few years and has officially lost its Steel Trap status.

We are in the midst of a three-day-long winter storm here in Northeastern Minnesota. We received over a foot of snow yesterday, are expecting at least another foot today, and the wind is blowing it all horizontally. You know you’re getting hit when The Weather Channel sends people to your city to stay for a few days so your weather can be featured on cable all over the world.

Edith and Mildred most definitely do not like this weather, and must be coerced out into the deep snow in the yard to go potty. Sometimes I have to go out on the front steps with them and say repeatedly, “Go potty! No, don’t come up these stairs Edith! Get out there and go!” And they understand me and finally give in and leap out into the drifts to squat. They might be outside less than one minute, but when they come back in their little schanuzie backs are wet with snow and they shake off vigorously and act so happy to be in the warm house again.

We’ve had Christmas carols playing ever since Thanksgiving, and this is what can be heard in our home today… click here and the music will open in a new window and you can listen as you read, if you like. I love the whole album.

I wish I could have taken a picture to show how densely the snow is falling. Instead I took this one of our large outdoor ornaments being blown about in one of the flower boxes on our front deck. As always, you can click these to enlarge them if you like.

This photo below was taken from our living room, looking out toward three little crab apple trees in the side yard. Minutes later about a hundred cedar waxwings flew to the trees and gobbled up many of the cherry-sized apples while the snow and wind whipped the branches they were clinging to.

Sara always puts a few live touches to things around the house, and here are some little pines she put in containers for our dining room mantel.

I love this big mug below — Carolyn made that for me when she was in high school.

And oh, when the weather outside is frightful, our fire is so delightful! We light it turn it on every day and I can’t even convey how grateful I am to have a cheery blaze for all our meals. And our in between meal times too.

I decided to string together another simple banner for our living room, and even though it’s not Christmas-themed, the blue jays make me smile and it brings me pleasure to look at it. Banners and garlands are in! If you want to make something simple with the children in your life, google the word banner and/or garland and check out some of the beautiful things people are making. I saw one online last night made from red and silver cording and silver jingle bells! Gorgeous and easy.

This sweet little cardinal scented wax warmer sits on Michael’s dresser in our bedroom. It gives a bit of light, and the scent of the melted wax is “clean and slightly masculine” according to Sara, who gave me the warmer. See the unique wreath behind it? That was a gift from my dear friend Su years ago, made from the pages of a hymnal.

We don’t have our big tree up yet, although a day like today would be perfect for tree trimming. We do have our little bedroom tree up, however. Mrs. Nisky came to spend the night a week ago and she and I worked on it together. Then later that night as she fell asleep on her pallet of blankets close to our bed, the red and white lights on the tree were the perfect night light.

This Friday my dear friend Sue and I will be going out to dinner and then later attending the symphony together. Someone gave me season tickets to the symphony this year and I’m quite excited about it. I took my granddaughter Clara to the November performance, Sue and I will enjoy the Christmas one, and then in January I’ll take Mr. McBoy, who listens to classical music all the time and will love it too.

Things in our home are quickly changing, and I don’t like it one bit. I figure it’s okay to say that since the Lord knows how I feel anyway. I’m praying constantly for help and strength and humility and compassion and grace, so that I’ll be a gentle, gracious caregiver to Michael. We’ve had so many visits from several professionals in the past weeks; a great older man who’s a Physical Therapist, an insightful and patient woman who’s an Occupational Therapist, an efficient and understanding young woman who’s the nurse who will visit twice a month. Eventually a home health aide will come twice a week and I’m still trying to wrap my mind around that, seeing as she’ll be coming to help Michael shower and do exercises, but he has stated more than once that he likes it when his wife does that for him. And I totally understand. I wouldn’t want some stranger coming in to help me shower! So why would he? What to do, what to do…I pray the Lord will smooth this approaching pathway before us and make things straight and clear.

Are you someone who appreciates a little comic relief? I certainly am. Just today I was talking on the phone to my friend Su and we were discussing how important and sometimes difficult it is to always speak words to others that build, help or encourage. I told her how I used to have a printed sign on the kitchen windowsill of our other house, something I got from Ann Voskamp’s blog years ago that said in beautiful lettering, “Only Speak Words That Make Souls Stronger,” and how that is my heart’s desire. And I told her how I have occasional failures with this and how sad and disheartening it is to me. And then our serious conversation took a comic turn when Su said, “I’ll bet there are words you’re saying to Michael that years ago you never dreamed you’d be saying” and I replied without missing a beat, “Yes, like ‘don’t put your cane in the toilet!'” and we cracked up. She knew I meant absolutely no disrespect to Michael and I knew she would understand because she knows and loves him. But she was absolutely right. In 1981 when I married my strong, handsome and hardworking husband and said the words “I do,” I could never have imagined that 30 years later the words I’d be frequently saying to him would be, “Big steps!” and “Don’t put your cane in the toilet.”

Yesterday my son-in-law Jeremy reminded me that even though so much of Michael’s mental and physical abilities are diminishing, the spiritual wisdom, humility and grace he exhibits are decades ahead of other people his age. I was grateful for those words and knew deep in my heart they were truth. I know I would not be bearing the ravages of Parkinson’s with the same patience as Michael does.

We are taking things a day at a time here, sometimes an hour at a time actually. Isn’t that what we’re given anyway? Just the moments that make up the days that comprise the years of our lives? None of us knows what tomorrow will bring, but I do think I can say I know one thing tomorrow will bring — it will bring the faithfulness of God. No matter what happens to any of us, God will be faithful to us.

Psalm 36:5-9 says,

Your love, Lord, reaches to the heavens,
    your faithfulness to the skies.
Your righteousness is like the highest mountains,
    your justice like the great deep.
You, Lord, preserve both people and animals.
How priceless is your unfailing love, O God!
    People take refuge in the shadow of your wings.
They feast on the abundance of your house;
    you give them drink from your river of delights.
For with you is the fountain of life;
    in your light we see light.

How wonderful this passage of Scripture is to me. His love and faithfulness to us reach to the heavens! How many billions and trillions of miles high is that? He is preserving us, and our animals! Edith and Mildred are being preserved by God! We can take refuge in the shadow of His wings, and in the deepest darkness we can see light because He is the Light of the World.

I think I need to meditate on this Psalm today, how about you?

It’s time for me to go make a little lunch for Michael now. The snow continues to fall and the forecast says it will pile up through the night. Then by this Saturday the deep freeze will sweep in and blast us with temperatures that fall to 20 below zero (minus 28 Celsius). I never mind the snow we see in Minnesota, but the older I get the more difficulty I have with the bitter below-zero temps. I guess I should just revel in our 25 degrees above zero winter wonderland today and deal with the plummeting temps when they finally do plummet.

Are there any of you who visit this little blog now and then and have never introduced yourself? I would so love to “meet” you. If you can bring yourself to leave a comment today, I would be blessed to read it and know you are there.

I give a wave to you all, and say a prayer to our Heavenly Father, asking Him to bless, keep, help, and cheer you as you walk out the path in front of you today…

“God’s definition of what matters is pretty straightforward. He measures our lives by how we love.”   ~~Francis Chan

These are four of my eight precious grandchildren — Mr. McBoy (11), Mrs. Nisky (9), Li’l Gleegirl (6) and Baby Shamrock (15 months). If my life is measured by how I love them, I’m probably okay. But if my life is measured, as Francis Chan says above, by how I love everyone, then I’m doomed, at least without the thousands of mercies I need from the Lord each morning.

If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love, I’m nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate.

If I speak God’s Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, “Jump,” and it jumps, but I don’t love, I’m nothing.

If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t love, I’ve gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love.

Love never dies.

1 Corinthians 13:1-8, The Message Bible

*       *       *       *       *       *       *       *

How is it even possible to live like this?

It’s not.

But with God, all things are possible. Jesus said so. (Matthew 19:26). So before I walk out the door this morning I will go to my heavenly Father and ask for truly impossible things.

How about you? Are you asking God for impossible things too?

These are a few more favorites from my at least six shelves of childrens’ books. My younger grandchildren go back to these again and again, especially if they know I’ll read them out loud for them. I do the best I can using different voices and gestures as I read to them. They crack up when I read them this book, especially by the last page when I open my mouth wide, throw back my head and bellow, “Whhhhhaaaaaaaatttt?”  🙂

This is always a hit, and I love this quirky family myself:

And this one is funny and ridiculous:

We love almost all the Jan Brett books — have you seen them? Her illustrations are rich and detailed and can keep me poring over the pages for an hour. My granddaughter Mrs. Nisky wants me to read this again and again, and she likes the way I do the trolls’ voices:

I think this is my favorite of the “If you…” books by Laura Numeroff:

And this older book is something Audrey likes to have read to her repeatedly. She doesn’t understand how someone could swallow the sea or grow legs hundreds of feet long…

And I love this book probably more than the grandchildren. My friend Carole told me about it and it’s profound for adults.  🙂

Have you read any of these books to the little ones in your life?

What are some of your favorite books for young children?

Evening, Friday, June 14, 2013 – I don’t know why it is that when someone brings us a meal, I cry. I feel all weepy and grateful and lavished upon in ways I can’t explain. Maybe because as I’ve gotten older, I’ve felt less creative and inspired in the kitchen, and feeding the multitudes has come to feel like a duty rather than a privilege. It’s my housekeeping/wifely mountain, that’s for sure. Tonight we sat down to the table and ate mouthwatering walleye fillets, breaded and baked to perfection. If you’re a Minnesotan you know that walleye is a prized fish for eating. We also had a bean casserole with every color and size bean imaginable, which frankly makes it sound ho-hummish (to me at least), but when I put a forkful in my mouth I looked at Michael and said, “Oh. My. Gosh. These. Beans.” Absolutely the best tasting beans I’ve ever eaten. And there was a giant bowl of fresh fruit with pineapple and blueberries and raspberries, enough to last for days and for many smoothies, and some rolls made out of pretzel dough, and a diminutive, rich dark chocolate cake for dessert. Feeling weak and tired and sore, I wipe tears as I eat my beans and fish, and I silently ask God to bless Kay J. and Julie G. for generously and lovingly bringing tonight’s meal. I could get emotional right now as I type this. I think when I look back on my knee replacement and recovery, I’ll remember the meals almost as much as anything else, because the relief they gave felt like such a salve on my soul.

Saturday, June 15, 2013 – My knee is swollen and sore, and I’m taking the icing and elevating instructions very seriously. Today I get up and move around, have a smoothie and a piece of toast with peanut butter for breakfast and feel so full I could burst, brush my teeth, grab some more ice packs from the freezer, and go back to bed for more icing and elevating. The first few days we’re supposed to ice 20 minutes out of every hour, so this means hours and hours a day. This is okay with me, since I don’t feel like being up for long anyway. We have enough leftovers from Kay and Julie’s meal last night to have a wonderful meal tonight. My sweet granddaughter Mrs. Nisky is here helping and what a godsend she is. She fetches things for me, keeps me company, and learned how to play Gin Rummy quickly so we play that. And I’ve read to her while I ice and elevate.  Thank you Lord.

Sunday, June 16, 2013 – Mrs. Nisky goes home today and I will miss her so much. One week ago today I was on my way to Stillwater, getting ready for my surgery. I feel so much stiffness, and the exercises are very difficult for me. I’m supposed to be doing several sets of exercises twice a day, and I feel like I’ve climbed Mount Everest if I’ve done them once. Help me Lord! To bend my knee at a 90 degree angle, as most of us do when we sit at a table, is almost impossible. Yet in Physical Therapy over the next weeks, 125 degrees will be the goal. The thought makes my skin crawl. And my leg no longer straightens out like the other one, which also is normal apparently. So in this new world I live in, in order to move my knee, I have to get rid of my knee, get a new knee, not be able to move that knee at all, then slowly be able to move that knee over the course of several weeks, and hopefully move it lots and lots someday. I read an article online on my iPhone while icing and elevating that tells the reader that with knee replacement surgery, the three P’s to remember are, Pain, Physical Therapy and Patience. I so get that. Tonight we are again blessed, this time with a meal from Laurel. The care and generosity with which we’re being provided for almost does me in. Laurel brings her smile and hugs, which are always heartening and strengthening to me, and boxes filled with food for dinner. A beautiful, herbed pork loin roast, so lean and tender. Baked potatoes, still hot from the oven and wrapped in foil. A spinach salad with thinly sliced yellow bell peppers and fresh sugar snap pea pods and slivered almonds, oh my. And the most fragrant rosemary rolls, warm and soft and ready for a slather of butter. And for dessert – homemade strawberry short cake, with lovely juicy fruit and homemade whipped cream. Michael is in heaven over that one. Again, sitting down at our table with this bounty provided through love and hard work, while wearing my plaid nightgown and doing so little during each day, I am overwhelmed. I pray that the Lord will return this blessing to my friend Laurel, times a hundred. I am beginning to understand the third P – patience. I’m not recovering as fast as I had thought. This may be a slooooow process.

Monday, June 17, 2013 – One week post op. I feel like a vice has been wrapped around the whole knee area. It’s not painful per se, but it is certainly not comfortable. I want someone to take off the vice. My swelling is going down a tiny bit. Today is my first day at Physical Therapy and my therapist is a great young woman named Suzanne. I drive myself there. She has her master’s in PT and I am happy to find within minutes that she is so knowledgeable and compassionate. Range of Motion will be the buzz phrase over the next weeks. She measures how far my knee will straighten when I’m lying flat on my back, and how far it will bend, doing these demonic exercises called Heel Slides. They should be called Hell Sleds. Sleds from Hell, that’s what they feel like. Suzanne is gentle and thorough, and massages all the very tight and traumatized muscles in and around my knee. It feels wonderful. The only thing that doesn’t feel wonderful is when she starts in on my knee cap, and I almost go through the roof. She makes a notation. After an hour of working, massaging, assessing, my Range of Motion measurements went from 13 and 90 degrees to 4 and 104. Quite the improvement, I guess. I walk out to the car and strap myself in, sighing deeply as I realize I’ll have at least 20 of these PT appointments, and I ask for God’s help. How thankful I am that Su and I are going on this journey together, and we compare notes every day. What she is experiencing isn’t exactly what I am, but together we are seeing how much we need to readjust our expectations of recovery. She is an encouragement to me. Tonight we enjoy leftovers from Laurel’s delicious meal, and I sit up in the recliner, ice packs under and over my knee, to watch “The Bachelorette” with Michael. Believe me, this is not his favorite show, but I’ve taken an interest since the current Bachelorette (Desiree Hartsock) is a Christian and has brought a little class to a show that I would previously have used my ten-foot pole around. When it’s time for bed I’m sore and a bit discouraged at how stiff I feel, how vice-like the sensation is around my knee. I haven’t been taking pain meds during the day, but I gladly take them at night and do so now. I haven’t written in my gratitude journal in a long time, and I realize before I fall off to sleep that it’s time. My normal, complaining, impatient nature is stirring, and I don’t need to wrestle with that too.

Tuesday, June 18, 2013 – Each day is very similar. I wake up in stiffness and a little pain, gimp around for a while as I’m getting lunches and breakfasts ready for our Fosters (who have been loving and helpful and such dears it makes me get teary to think of it), feed Edith and Mildred and let them out with their horrible anti-bark collars, let them back in, boil water for the day’s pot of tea, make coffee for Michael, and then I grab my ice packs and head back to bed. I realize that I’m letting paperwork and housework and most things go, but I must. And I keep telling myself this is okay. I get dressed if I have to go somewhere, otherwise I stay in one of my three plaid flannel nightgowns. Today Michael has a foot doctor appointment, so I will get dressed and drive him downtown. I’ll stay in the car and play Words With Friends, and when he returns we’ll drive home. Woo hoo, we’ve had our day out! We Are Old Now. I miss being able to soak in our deep tub, but baths are not allowed until the incision has completely closed, so I take a shower every other day. I ice and elevate with two thick pillows on our bed, read a chapter or two from All Creatures Great and Small and occasionally nap. I’ve never been much of a napper, but these days it feels good. Michael naps a lot, so each afternoon there are four of us (two human, two canine) on the big king-sized bed, resting away for an hour or two. Tonight we sit down to a feast brought by my friend Carol, who comes in cheerfully toting box after box of hot food ready for our meal. Tender chicken in a yummy white sauce served over angel hair pasta. Fresh steamed broccoli, somehow still hot in the serving dish. A salad I literally moan over, with fresh greens, bits of crisp apples, cashews, craisins, and a homemade citrusy vinaigrette. And homemade butterhorn rolls, which Michael moaned over, and still-warm rhubarb bars with homemade whipped cream. Just one of these creations would have been too much for me to accomplish in a day, yet Carol went all out and gave us a meal full of delicious homemade things that made me cry with thankfulness. And there was enough for the next day. Days of meals, my friends….can you believe it? I feel humbled and grateful for the way these women poured His love out over us. What lavish provision. Thank you Lord.

Wednesday, June 19 – Sunday, June 23, 2013 – a blur of days. Icing and elevating. Showering. Watching a TV show or two with Michael. I don’t care for murder and violence, so why am I interested in “The Closer,” a TV series available on Netflix starring Kyra Sedgwick who’s a southern woman in charge of a mostly-male crew of cops for the LAPD, figuring out high-profile murder cases? We watch “The Closer” and I now imitate how Kyra’s character Brenda Leigh Johnson thanks people….“Thank you, thank you so much!” I get up for an hour at a time, do some paperwork, pay some bills, throw in a load of laundry. But I listen to my body and it usually says an hour is enough. Then I am down again, icing and elevating. It feels like limbo, but it’s actually life. I need to remember this. This is life right now. Whatever I need today, I have. I am realizing also that changes with knee replacement recovery come at glacial speed. I might feel a bit of improvement in a week or ten days, not in a day or two. I’m relieved to know this is common. I get out my gratitude journal and start writing.

I’m so thankful my knee replacement surgery is behind me! And I thank all of you who prayed for me. There were times (especially on Wednesday) when I was quietly writhing in more pain than I’d anticipated, even though I’d had plenty of pain meds, when suddenly a wave of joy swept over me and I knew I was being lifted up to the Lord.

I hope to share more when I can, but I’ve been up a while now and must go back to bed. Ice is your friend, rest is your friend, pain meds to help you rest are your friend, are the wise words I keep hearing from those who’ve walked the New Knee Road before me, and I’m listening.

Here’s a photo I took with my iPhone a few hours after surgery:

The nurse was checking my incision and making sure the hemovac drain inserted at the right side of my knee was indeed draining, and she was getting ready to put on the ultra-suprema-comfy compression tights they make you wear to prevent blood clots.

And a day later when the swelling was enough to make me ask myself, “Hey, what in the world is that enormous purple thing that seems to connect your thigh and your calf, girl?” the hemovac was still intact. (I actually didn’t take a picture when it was purple — I was probably too preoccupied with writhing at the time.)

My sweet granddaughter Mrs. Nisky has spent two nights with us now that I’m home, getting me water, putting my warm ice packs back in the freezer and bringing me fresh cold ice packs, drawing pictures, playing gin rummy with me, cuddling close as I read this wonderful book out loud, setting and clearing the table, and spreading lots of cheer around.

Here’s what my nightstand looks like — the flowers Sara picked from our garden add a lovely soft touch to the cane/pain meds/bandage look I’ve got going these days. I’m more grateful than I can say that dentures, purple hair dye, and nose hair clippers are not part of this picture.

I’m still pretty swollen and the deep and richly colored bruising is starting to spread to the hinterlands of hip and ankle. Apparently it will be months before the swelling is down. But that horrible grinding pain that sent me to the surgeon to begin with is completely gone. It’s a wow and wow situation. Wow, there’s a lot of swelling and pressure. And wow, that cruel bone-on-bone torture is gone. There’s probably some whoa and some woe and some whew and some wah in there too, but I don’t want to confuse anyone. If I titled this blog post Wow and Whoa and Whew and Woe and Wah and Wow, it might be just too much.

I will share more when I can. Thank you for caring and praying….

My oldest daughter Sharon and her husband Chris flew away to a warmer part of the country last weekend, for a work-related function. Because their youngest child, Louisa, is seven months old and still a nursing baby, she went with them. The older three, Mr. McBoy, Mrs. Nisky and Lil’ Gleegirl, are staying at our house for almost five days.

One of the things that gives me such delight in this life is to see the way my grandchildren love each other. They have their squabbles over toys like most children, but somehow they all treat each other with love and respect, root for each other, give hugs and encouraging words, and help each other when needed.

I’ve seen this in Sharon and Chris’s family with the birth of Louisa last summer. Louisa’s three siblings (age 10 1/2, 8 1/2 and 6) adore her. They want to hold her, play with her, help Mom or Dad with her, and they’re most happy when they’re with Louisa. When they come home from school, they change out of their uniforms, throw down their backpacks, and go to be with Louisa. And Louisa loves her brother and sisters too. She’s always full of smiles and screechy vocalizations when she sees them. She reaches for them and cuddles them, and it’s quite beautiful to see.

Two nights ago at our dinner table, Mr. McBoy (who is a dedicated gatherer of facts and any kind of trivia, as is his mother) asked Mrs. Nisky, “What is the best thing that’s ever happened to you?” And his 8 year-old sister responded with hardly a second’s pause, “Louisa.”

I will never forgot that moment.

Here’s a photo of Mrs. Nisky and Lil’ Gleegirl meeting Louisa on the day of her birth.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could all have someone in our lives who thinks the greatest thing that ever happened to them was the day we were born?  😉

So now Chris and Sharon have a blond, a redhead, a dark brunette, and (so far at age 7 months) a strawberry blond.

Louisa can’t do one single thing for herself, but her presence in our family has brought so much joy!