Michael and I watched a movie last night and loved it, so I thought I’d recommend it to you here. It’s called “Door to Door,” and is a true story based on the life of salesman Bill Porter. The cast is William Macy (who did a phenomenal job), Helen Mirren (whose American accent was flawless), Kyra Sedgwick, Kathy Baker, and Felicity Huffman.

Here’s the short trailer to the movie.

And here’s another one that’s a bit longer, and gives you a better feel for the movie.

Michael laughed and wiped tears through the whole film. I know he’d like to see it again.

And not long ago we watched “Quartet,” starring Maggie Smith and many other wonderful actors. 🙂 We liked the movie a lot but if you check it out you might want to know there’s a bit of language. Here’s the trailer for that one.

Have you watched anything good lately that you can recommend?

Quite a while ago I painted a wall in our dining room with black chalkboard paint. After the paint cured for a couple of days, I drew a decorative border on it. Then I waited for inspiration to strike. Then I waited some more. And I waited a long time. I plan on writing on wall now and then, but since it won’t be a daily thing, I wanted to “christen” the wall with something meaningful.

Yesterday I chose Romans 12:12, and drew with chalk on the wall:

“Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction and faithful in prayer.”

I’m preaching to myself every single day with this verse. As a matter of fact, after something sudden and annoying happened yesterday, Michael could tell by the way I was moving around in the kitchen that I was a tad irritated with someone who had made a truly selfish choice. Guess what Michael did? He looked at me and pointed at the verse I’d just chalked up on the wall.

Sigh.

Exactly.

I still haven’t decided if I’m done with it, but this is what’s there for now:

I wish I could do something as beautiful as this, or this. Aren’t those examples absolutely stunning? And oh my, what about this?

Well, this is my first attempt and I think I’ll live with it for a while before I decide if all those bare spaces need a few little flourishes for fillers. A twist of fern leaf? A swirly or two? Some wheat?

What do you think? What would you add?

July 8 – August 4, 2013 — The days have turned into weeks, and I am almost eight weeks post-op. Every day I still ice and elevate, at least four times. My six week checkup with Dr. David Palmer goes well. He says my incision has healed perfectly. He checks my range of motion and says my extension is good, my flexion a bit behind. But I already knew that, because even after all this time, I still have a hard time bending my knee past 90 degrees. I seem stuck at 95 degrees when I’m measured at Physical Therapy, and if the PT gently pushes past that, the lower quadriceps muscle which attaches to the patella begins to scream and I almost see stars. One thing I’m very grateful for, and that is I’ve finally been able to do full revolutions on the exercise bike, which is a huge milestone for a knee replacement patient. When it happens I close my eyes, put my head back and whisper, “Thank you Lord, thank you, thank you, thank you.” Perhaps I will buy myself a bicycle for Christmas after all. I wonder if they make really nice new modern bikes with tractor seats?

At the surgeon’s office they take three x-rays and I can’t wait to see them. One view is taken from the front, one view is of the knee bent slightly, from the side, and one is taken from above with my knees bent, so the placement of the resurfaced kneecap can be seen. When I’m in the consulting room and Dr. Palmer shows them to me on his computer screen, I gasp. Even my untrained eyes can see the huge difference in my tibia’s placement. I used to have a Swiftly Tilting Tibia because the lateral meniscus was virtually gone. My lower leg splayed out away from the center of my body, in what is called a valgus slant. And it hurt. Now, as you can see in the x-ray below, my right calf is straight, and matches the other one.

If you never saw the first x-ray, I’ll refresh your memory:

Dr. Palmer says my stiffness is common, the warmth of my knee is typical because of the extreme tissue trauma this surgery causes, and that it could take up to a year for me to feel okay. I’ve read and heard that before, so it’s just another reminder to be patient. To be a patient patient.

I had never had an x-ray done of my left knee, so when the double knee film comes back I am quite happy to see the good space between my tibia and femur. I plan no second knee replacement in this lifetime, and hope those bones cooperate with my plan.

As the doctor leaves the room he shakes my hand, tells me to keep icing and elevating at least four times a day, to make another appointment to come back for a recheck in six weeks, and this is his parting comment: “This is never easy.”

Ha. Understatement of the year.

Here’s Dr. Palmer, the architect of my new knee, the surgeon who has done thousands of these surgeries and is one of the top docs in the country.

Every week is much the same, with small variations to the days. I care for those in my care, while taking many breaks a day to care for myself. I do a little grocery shopping. I spend a little time with my grandchildren. I make simple meals, and order meals that are delivered. I read. I do my Gideon Bible study. I sit and do paperwork in 30 minute increments. I enjoy Instagram and post an occasional photo there. (Follow me on Instagram at JulieBalm). When discouraged at my glacial progress, I check in at bonesmart.org and see that others are progressing glacially too. Michael and I watch TV in the evenings together, and we enjoy The Closer, Mad About You, and Midsomer Murders, all delivered to our mailbox from Netflix. I make one pot of tea each day and enjoy having a cup when I’m icing and elevating and reading.

The surgical pain is gone. Now there’s a new, different kind of pain on the inside of my knee, about an inch from the kneecap. My Physical Therapist thinks it’s nerve pain and she thinks the cantankerous culprit is the saphenous nerve. My friend Su has been having saphenous pain too. I am not taking pain medication regularly anymore. I just take one 5 mg. pill at night before I sleep, and it helps me stay comfortable. When I’m out of those pills, that will be the end of my short-term friendship with narcotics.

The stiffness is ever present. It might be 5% better than it was weeks ago, but I never take a step without being aware of the vice around my joint. I am tolerating it better, and don’t feel quite as trapped as I did before. For this slight adjustment, I give thanks.

At Physical Therapy I’m working on stairs, a Pilates bench, the recumbent bike, and on flexion/bending, the latter of which is still one of the hardest physical things I’ve ever done. I think if someone gave me a choice right now between doing daily heel slides for another year in hopes of regaining knee flexion, or laboring and giving birth to a baby, I’d take the baby.

I also tend to some things that seem (sort of) important right now. I hire a highly recommended local masonry contractor to repair some mortar around our chimney, and prepare the whole thing for a gas insert. We plan to have one installed in the fall, so we can enjoy cozy fires in our dining room fireplace this winter. I call our attorney and make an appointment to update our wills, and to finally draw up a health care directive. Every time we see a doctor they ask, “Do you have a health care directive?” and we always say no. Now we’ll be able to say yes. We have spelled out what kind of heroic medical measures we want employed on us when we get old and terminal, which is mostly no heroic measures at all. We also have our attorney draw up a legal document that would make our five daughters instant 1/5 owners of our home if Michael and I were to die together. This will help them avoid probate, and many long and drawn out legal tasks.

I read on bonesmart.org that the second stage of recovery doesn’t really begin until a knee replacement patient is twelve weeks post-op. This is another comfort to me. I feel like I’m on The Knee Train. The train is moving, and I can see from my seat in the second class coach car that we are making some progress, but we’re not chugging along very fast. I feel like I need to telegraph ahead to whoever is waiting for me at The Happy and Finally Recovered Knee Resort, that my train will not be arriving when I thought it would. I might arrive at the new station in nine more months or so, or even in about a year. There are some days I’d like to get off this train. But then I see the beautiful scenery outside as we chug along at five miles per hour. If I weren’t on this train I might miss the orange Indian paintbrush waving in the meadow, the shapes in the clouds, the mama deer and her two fawns, and the curling wisps of ground fog in that distant glen.

Thank you for stopping by, dear friends and family….

Toot-toot,

I have such good memories of reading out loud to my children. I read to them long after they were able to read for themselves, often in the car on a road trip or right before bed. During the last year of home schooling, Sara and I read 54 books together, and one of my favorites came from that time.

Our literature-based curriculum said we had to read Banner in the Sky by James Ramsey Ullman, and when I looked at the cover I said to myself, “Bleh.” I try never to judge a book by its cover but a story about a boy climbing a mountain just wasn’t something I wanted to delve into that year. We sat on the couch and started reading, though, while the snow fell outside and a tiny fire burned in our living room fireplace. The first chapter was okay. The second chapter better. And by the third chapter, Sara was saying, “Mom, please read another chapter!” and we couldn’t put it down after that.

I read this book out loud to my grandson Mr. McBoy last year, and the results were the same. He kept begging for me to read the next chapter and then the next, and it was a book that made our hearts thrill. This book would be a wonderful gift to any child/pre-teen in your life, definitely one you’d want to own. In fact, recently I realized that I’d forgotten who I loaned my copy to, so I bought a new one. I don’t ever want it not to be on my book shelves. 🙂  If you read this to a child, they need to be a good listener. I don’t think a five year-old would understand it, but I think a seven or eight year-old could. And as it is with most good children’s books, Banner in the Sky is fantastic for adults too.

The other book I would like to tell you about today is one of my all-time favorites. I just finished reading it out loud to three of my grandchildren and to say they loved it and hung on every word would be quite an understatement. It’s out of print (to my knowledge) but you can get used copies, and it’s worth every dime or dollar you might have to pay. It’s called The Bad Times of Irma Baumlein by one of my favorite children’s authors, Carol Ryrie Brink.

I can’t remember how many times I’ve read this book. It’s the story of a brainy, sensitive, lonely little girl named Irma who tells a whopper of a lie. The consequences of that lie and the lessons learned are so huge that I found myself sobbing as I read the last few chapters to my grandchildren this week.

My first copy fell apart and I sent away for another one, and it’s one I will always want to be on my shelves. There are a few grandchildren I haven’t read this to yet, and I’m anxious to begin again with them.

I’ve always loved Trina Schart Hyman’s illustrations as well, and every time I came to a page with a drawing on it, the children crowded around me to study the details and smile at each one. Hyman was such a gifted artist — in the past I’ve checked books out of the library just because she was the illustrator.

Here’s one of the drawings from The Bad Times of Irma Baumlein:

I’ve mentioned this before, but I think any book by Carol Ryrie Brink is a treasure. The Pink Motel, Winter Cottage, Caddie Woodlawn and Magical Melons are all beautiful in their own way.

Now I’ve started another book with one of my grandchildren — Fred Gibson’s Old Yeller. I’m familiar with the story from the movie so I know we’ll be crying before the last page is turned. But that’s okay. Crying over good literature with someone you love is one of the best things in life, in my opinion.

Some of you have shared the titles of your favorite children’s books before, but I’d love for you to share again if you would. There are new readers here and we all could use a good recommendation on how to bless the lives of the children we love!

Happy reading….

When I got my first checking account at age 16, I was diligent about keeping track in the ledger of all the checks I’d written. Back in the Dark Ages they didn’t have carbons for your checks — you had to record the check you’d written to In’n’Out Burger or to the Alpha Beta grocery store right then, or you were sunk. While I might not have to record a check I’ve written right that moment anymore, the habit of staying current in the ledger has stayed with me all these years.

I also take the monthly paper statement that comes in the mail from our credit union (we haven’t used a bank in decades), turn it over and use the worksheet on the back for reconciling the statement and ledger to the penny. When people tell me they haven’t balanced/reconciled their checking accounts for years I must give them a blank look, because I wonder how they know exactly how much is in their account then? Most people will say they look online, and I do that too, but if they aren’t adding the interest accrued each month (this month is was a whopping 24 cents for us) and double checking to make sure the checks’ amounts line up with the bank’s paid amounts, how do they know what they’ve got? (Our credit union’s worksheet doesn’t look exactly like this, but here is an example of what I use.) My daughter Carolyn worked in a credit union and she tells me there’s an accurate way to do it online and make sure it’s up to date, but old habits die hard and I’ve stuck to my paper each month.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve written a check in my fairly clear handwriting and had it read incorrectly (and deducted incorrectly) on the statement. For example, a check I may write for $17.49 might get paid as $17.47, and then I’m two cents off, aren’t I? In 40 years this has happened at least seven times. Shocking! :O

I have also made a few subtraction mistakes in my haste, and unless I use the reconciling worksheet each month, I don’t see exactly where those mistakes are. Yesterday I sat down to do our monthly statement and when I was finished I was $10.10 off. That drives me crazy. So I went back to the place in the ledger where last month’s reconciling had been completed, and started checking my addition and subtraction from there. I found one transaction where I’d neglected to carry a number, so was $10 off. Then I went back and found the 10 cents, which was a time I’d forgotten to add the month’s paltry interest. Yesterday it was fairly easy to find the discrepancies and fix them. Other times I’ve been up to $1000 off, and “drives me crazy” isn’t a phrase that adequately describes how I’ve felt at those times. It takes some detective work, but so far, with God’s help, I’ve balanced every time. Sometimes it has taken 20 minutes, other times I’ve had to come back to it the next day because two hours hasn’t been enough for me to find the mistake.

I know! I really shouldn’t be living like this.

But here’s perhaps what some would say is the weirdest thing about all of this. Every time I haven’t balanced to the penny the first time, I’ve fervently prayed. “Now Lord, you’re the one who has blessed us with anything we have. You own it all. This is your money. I can’t find this $49.37 but I know you know where it is! Will you lead me please? Will you help me reconcile our checkbook to our statement?” Sometimes my head is down on the table and I’m sighing and asking Michael to pray that I’ll find the mistake. He always does. My children have chuckled at me for this. They have seen how I don’t always care very much about clean laundry piled in two baskets in my bedroom, going unfolded for one whole week, but how I’m holding back tears when the checking account won’t balance.

In this area, I might be just a leetle bit obsessive.

Aside from praying for God’s help on this issue, I’ve also gotten in the habit of thanking Him in a few ways when everything finally does balance. I think one time I was so far off (over a thousand dollars it seemed, but not really, just a couple of deposits that weren’t recorded). First, I always scrawl in huge letters across the completed worksheet, “PTL!!!! THANK YOU LORD! YOU DID IT! YOU HELPED ME!” Or something very similar to that. When I die and my children go through our files, they’ll see the credit union statements I’ve filed away there, and they’ll see on the back of each one my crude and seemingly silly praise to God. The second thing I always do is go kneel down somewhere and immediately thank God for helping me, for giving me the gifts it took to help me reconcile the ledger to the statement. The manual dexterity to write. The brain matter still there than enables me to add and subtract. A regular paycheck, and so on. Do I kneel down in thanks when I get a phone call that a lost key was found? Not usually. Or when a person we’ve prayed for gets good medical results? Not always. I’m still thankful and express my gratitude to the Lord, but it’s our checking account that has always made me feel so humbly grateful that I need to bow down.

Now, you might be thinking to yourself, “She’s got issues with money” or “She’s full of fear regarding finances!” But I honestly don’t think I am (although I admit to battling fear in other areas of life). I’ve lived with money and without it, and know it comes from the Lord and He can bless or withhold any time He likes. Once the account is balanced and reconciled I hardly give finances another thought, which I suppose could be foolish in another way.

In what ways might you be just a leetle bit obsessed? I know someone who has to have the glasses in her kitchen cabinets with the rims up, and quietly freaks out of someone stores them rims down (on the germy shelf.) I know someone else who hangs all her clothes up by color, like you see in some magazines. Another person I know has to dry the sink out every time she uses it, whether it be bathroom or kitchen sink. It can’t have a droplet of water in it.

Do you have any perfectionistic tendencies?

We have soft music playing a lot in our house. There’s a stereo with five CD slots and two speakers (quickly becoming obsolete) that sits on a desk in our dining room, and its position in the house makes it possible to hear the music throughout most of the first floor. In our last house we had an intercom system that played our music all over the house and I loved that. Anyway, like most people I get on listening jags where I want to hear certain CDs over and over until my brain is saturated with the music and it’s time to put them away for a while.

Here’s what’s playing frequently in our house and car lately:

This CD is from the 1990s, and we played it a lot back then. I recently read that Sarah Masen (who sort of seemed to drop out of the limelight, if you can ever call contemporary Christian music limelit) married a writer and had three children, and still sings and performs. Her name is Sarah Dark now. Anyway, this CD is in the car and I love it. The song “All Fall Down” is peppy and quirky and gets turned up and we sing along with it. Here are my favorite lyrics from that particular song:

Blow Your trumpets angels
Come sweet salvation
Hallelujah
Shout scattered thanks
In power that’s strength
And glory
Good Lord glory
and the fool stands only to fall
But the wise trip on grace

All fall down
All fall down
Hit the ground
All fall down

But the wise trip on grace…. I love the picture that paints in my mind of tripping on grace, realizing how much mercy God has extended to me and how that makes me want to fall flat on my face in gratitude and humility and kick the pride out of my life. If you’d like to see a short video of Sarah Masen singing this quirky, peppy song, click here.

I’m also listening to someone I’ve only just learned about, in Relevant magazine. Apparently Audrey Assad has been around for a while so I feel like I need to catch up on her other CDs, but I bought one and am enjoying familiarizing myself with the songs. She’s a poet and some of her lyrics reach down into my heart and squeeze it hard. Here’s one of my favorite songs from the CD, with lyrics lower down.

Are any of you familiar with Audrey’s music?

And this very minute I can hear another old CD playing, while Michael is eating his breakfast, drinking his coffee and perusing the sports page: Celtic Worship by Eden’s Bridge.

We have most of their work and I find it very transporting in more ways than one. It not only makes me feel like I’m gliding like a bird over the Emerald Isle as I listen, but it’s mentally transporting too, lifting my thoughts higher and helping me focus on the Lord, reminding me that no matter what I need, He is able….

And here’s what has been in the CD player in our bedroom recently:

Williams’s music reminds me of my mother. She was a gifted musician and loved Andy’s rendition of Henry Mancini’s classic “Moon River.” To this day I can hardly hear that song without stopping whatever I’m doing, closing my eyes, humming along, and thinking of my mom.

So, it’s the first of August! That means I’ve already said, “Rabbit!” to several people, much to their annoyance. I can tell fall is approaching because the sunlight that streams through the front windows of our house is lower these days, more golden.

What’s on your playlist lately?

It’s the first time in several days we haven’t had nine people in the house. Last night Jeremy and Carolyn returned from their trip to Yew Nork (a la five year-old Audrey), and their four little ones went home with them. It was sweet to see the children (ages 11 to 5) run at them and get swept up in hugs and kisses and whispers about how much they were missed. We tracked each of their flights with a live flight tracker online to see what kind of progress they were making, “Oh look, they’re over Lake Michigan right now!” “It looks like the plane is circling before landing!”– and at one point Audrey looked at the little airplane moving every-so-slowly over the map of the US and said, “Are mama and daddy in that plane?” It’s hard to explain representation to a little one.  🙂

The children know that Grandma had an operation on her knee and were very considerate. One afternoon as they were all playing in our bedroom and I was elevating and icing my knee on a pile of pillows, Vivienne and Audrey offered to massage my knee for me, and were very gentle. After about five minutes Vivie said in her sing-songy voice, “It feels just like I’m massaging a cactus.” I love the unfiltered thoughts of children! We did one thing each day, things like visiting a wonderful park down by Lake Superior, and driving through a fast food place to get soft-serve cones, and visiting the cemetery so we could feed the dozens of ducks and geese that live near the ponds there, and going to the library. We knew from past visits that a blue heron can sometimes be seen in a distant pond at the cemetery, and Clara wanted to drive past as we were leaving to see if we could spy him. What a happy thrill — he was there! Standing very still amongst the tall reeds at the very edge of a large pond, long neck curved with his head down near the water waiting for a fish. The wonder and excitement of the children lifted my heart. We pulled over and watched for a while, and when he saw us he flew to another part of the pond. This video is not of our heron, but the scene and the bird look almost identical to what we saw.

My friend Denel and I are getting excited about our upcoming Second Annual Lupi-Soo Convention. In a couple of months we’ll be flying to Seattle (she from Southern California and me from Northern Minnesota) and staying there and on Bainbridge Island. I’m obsessing about how I’m going to manage a nearly four-hour flight with my knee, since sitting at the dinner table for 30 minutes is an exercise in endurance and pain management. I’m a Long-Femured Woman and haven’t enjoyed flying since 1981 when I was on a flight so horrible from Los Angeles to Denver even the flight attendants were strapped in and looking terrified. I hadn’t known planes could actually gallop until then. Anyway, if you add long femurs to minimal leg room on a plane so that the knees are just touching the seat in front of you and then that passenger decides to recline her seat for the duration of the flight, and throw in a post-surgical knee that won’t quite bend like its supposed to yet, you have a recipe for misery. So I did what I’ve never done in 55 years. I actually cringed as I did it too. It seemed so wasteful. So gentry. So la-dee-dah.

I bought a first class ticket.

I even have to grit my teeth as I’m typing it here, to say I spent an extra $300+ so I can have enough leg room in a first class seat on a 767 that will (hopefully safely) fly from Minneapolis to Seattle this fall. But it’s done, and I’m determined to enjoy it. As much as an anxious flyer can enjoy being strapped into a hollow metal tube that screams through the sky at 600 miles per hour almost seven miles above the earth.

Anyway, Denel and I are going to read three books before we meet for our long Lupi-Soo weekend, books that are either about Seattle or Bainbridge Island. We have no idea if they’ll be any good, but we thought while we sat relaxing and catching up with each other just a few feet from Puget sound in our beautiful cottage each evening, we’d have our own little book club and discuss the three books we read. The books are this one, this one and this one.

Today I’m going to call the chimney guy and tell him to schedule us for getting our chimney and flue ready for a gas insert installation this fall. We just might have cozy fires in our dining room hearth this winter. I’m also going to ice my knee. I’ll do a load of laundry and spend about 30 minutes on some paperwork. And then I might elevate and ice my knee again. Then I’ll pick up one of our Fosters and take her for a hair cut. Then I’ll come home and sit for a few minutes on the leather recliner and drum my fingers on the rolled arm and dream about what it would be like to have a personal chef so that I had a year off from cooking. Right about that time guilt will kick in because I’ll realize I’m not being grateful for food and a stove and a home and mobility and the abundance that we in the west take for granted. Three other grandchildren will be coming for a visit this afternoon, and I think I can foresee a game of Farkle or Gin Rummy in our future. And there’s a book I’ve read aloud to them that needs to be finished. Then I’ll get up and go to the kitchen and start rummaging around for what to prepare. At the close of the day I’ll do my Gideon study and then ice my knee again.

Next, if you had a small elegant bathroom decorated with black and white toile wallpaper (which, sadly, we don’t), what kind of floral arrangement do you think would look nice there?

How about this one?

I thought so too.

And if you had a large, grand foyer with two tables and mirrors to the right and to the left as you came in (which we don’t), and you thought two tall arrangements that mirrored each other would be nice for those tables, do you think these two would do?

I couldn’t agree more.

These are some floral arrangements Sara did for a family hosting a very fancy dinner party recently. They have nothing to do with this post but since I’m getting ready to do a post called “Knee Replacement Journal — Part Five,” I thought you’d already seen enough pictures of scarred and swollen knees and piled pillows and bandages and such.

Even so, my latest x-ray spotlighting my new titanium tibia will be forthcoming.

Monday, July 1, 2013 — After tending to all the typical Monday morning things, I sit for two hours at the computer with my right leg outstretched, working on a large annual report for one of our Fosters that will be due soon. I document each of her medical visits, social activities, outcomes, and any progress or regression she’s made. It’s always a daunting thing to write, but feels harder now because of the sitting. That’s one thing I guess I didn’t realize about knee replacement recovery — sitting for any length of time is difficult, since the leg can’t be bent much yet. At least my leg can’t be bent much. I know others who are at this stage of their recovery and they’re bending, but I take that thought captive and replace it immediately, because it will do me no good. After lunch I drive Michael to his dental appointment, and for the first time since he lost his driver’s license, I don’t go in with him. I know there might come a day when he isn’t able to go in by himself, taking the elevator to the fourth floor, but he can today. It’s warm out, so I lower all the windows in the car, and then decide to see if I can elevate my leg while I wait. This takes some doing, and I realize that if anyone is watching through the ground-level windows of the business building I’m parked near, they’re wondering what it is I’m trying to do. I lower the seat back all the way down, then push my body as far back on it as possible. I can’t bend my knee over the mid console area to get my knee up on the dash board, so I do it this way. Finally with scooting and grimacing I’m able to get my right leg gingerly up over the console and propped up on the dash, and then as I’m bringing the seat back up again, a man in a truck parked next to me rolls down his window and watches me with mild interest. He gets out, leans toward my passenger open window and says tentatively, “I hope you’re having a nice day?” I reply, “I had some knee surgery recently and I’m just making myself comfortable,” and he smiles and tips his baseball cap as he goes into the building. I play Words With Friends on my iPhone for a while, close my eyes and enjoy the warm but not too hot sun, and in 55 minutes Michael returns to the car with gleaming teeth. We drive home and I grab the ubiquitous ice packs and head to our bedroom to put up my leg on some pillows and apply the ice. I’m almost finished with Herriot’s All Things Wise and Wonderful and even though familiar, each chapter is like a mini-vacation. And his writing still makes me laugh.

Tuesday, July 2, 2013 — Our second Gideon Bible study is this morning, and is fabulous. I love how just a few verses in scripture can be mined and untold riches pour out into a shining pile in your heart. Sharon and Chris’s third child, six year-old Li’l Gleegirl, wants to come spend a night to be Grandma’s helper, and I welcome her cheerful presence. She spends a lot of time building clever buildings on wheels with the Magformers. She loves the leftover spaghetti I serve for dinner, and chooses to have her blanket pallet set up in the walk-in closet instead of near the bookcase in our room. She takes a pile of books with her and I kiss her good night and pray for her. She is a child of 10,000 words, and I hope someday she’ll use all that goodwill and huge vocabulary for His purposes. Maybe she’ll be a chatty cheerful mother. Or a smiling speaker. Or a verbose veterinarian.

Wednesday, July 3, 2013 — Today I have paperwork to do and as usual, try to parcel it out, 30 minutes here and 30 minutes there, along with my icing and elevating. Li’l Gleegirl’s daddy comes to pick her up and she proudly shows him her rolling buildings, and asks me if I’d like to keep them assembled and display them for a long time in our living room. I smile and tell her I might have to take them down eventually, but her happiness makes me happy. If only lives were as easy to build and to roll along as Magformer creations are. I see my Physical Therapist Suzanne in the afternoon and she is gentle and encouraging as always. She doesn’t act too concerned when she measures and sees that my range of motion has gone from 4 and 104 degrees to 12 and 95 — not good. I hold back tears and I don’t think she sees. At the end of my session she takes me to the gym and has me half pedal the recumbant bike, because I can’t do a full revolution yet. My knee will not bend that far yet. Suzanne assures me that she sees many people who take a while to be able to fully pedal the bike and she thinks I’ll be able to do it soon. Uh-huh, I think to myself. I hope so. My grey mood isn’t helping and I know this.

Thursday, July 4, 2013 — It’s a national holiday and our Fosters are home and happy to be relaxing. Our city has a huge fireworks celebration each year and in times past we’ve driven down by the Lake to see them, and we’ve tuned our radio to the local station that plays patriotic songs and John Philip Sousa while the fireworks explode and boom and sizzle and fall. But today isn’t a great day knee-wise, and I feel guilty that I know I won’t be able to stay up late to take them to the fireworks, and apologetically tell our gals so. They are both so kind and understanding, and one says, “Next year!” and I agree wholeheartedly and thank God for the grace. We are close enough to the fireworks to hear the thunderous booms, and the show lasts a good 20-30 minutes. Edith and Mildred are a little nervous and come close to stare at us when the whistling ones go off. We can tell when the finale is, and then I turn out the nightstand light and say goodnight to Michael.

Friday, July 5, 2013 — It’s a hot, humid morning and I turn on the central air conditioner and ask Michael again if he’s thankful we have central air, and he smiles at me. We are so well suited to each other weather-wise. We love crisp, cool air, temperatures in the sixties during the day and in the forties at night. We both detest humidity and anything approaching eighty degrees. I’m a little more vocal about it than he is. 🙂 I make two sausage patties and two over-easy eggs for Michael for breakfast, and cut up a pear for him. I have a golden delicious apple, a spoonful of peanut butter and a cup of tea. I don’t feel that hungry in the mornings, but I know I should be eating better, larger breakfasts. At least that’s what all the “experts” say. I have Physical Therapy again today, and since Suzanne is at her new house closing, I have Jana. Jana is great and knows just what part of the quadriceps muscle to work on, just like Suzanne does. Apparently my right quad is tight and like a rope. Jello and rope, metal and plastic, that’s what I’m comprised of these days. Jana shares about her family, her go-getter daughter who’s a little bossy and we share a laugh together, and then she applies an odd formation of Kinesiotape to my leg before I leave. It looks a little like this, except mine was more intricate and wound around to the back of my thigh as well. Once again, these are not my knees. (Darn.) It’s supposed to help control swelling.  I return home and show Michael my oddly taped up leg and he studies it for a minute and then says, “Wow.” For dinner I have no inspiration so we order burritos from Burrito Union and have them delivered. They are huge and make two meals, and are filled with simmered and pulled pork, rice and beans, spicy salsa and cheese. I feel bad that I’m not cooking each and every night yet, but I’m so grateful we have the means to order out when I need to. Michael and I watch another episode of “All Creatures Great and Small” by Netflix DVD, and I sit in the recliner with my knee up and iced while I knit a little too. Edith snores at Michael’s feet and Millie is sprawled out on her back on the plaid chair with her furry tummy exposed to the world. That reminds me that I need to call The Bad Lady soon to make a grooming appointment for the schnauzers.

Saturday, July 6, 2013 — I realize that I forgot to do my exercises yesterday and set to them this morning before I get out of bed. I’m anxious to see Dr. Palmer in Stillwater to ask him what in tarnation is going on with my kneecap. Quad sets and Hell Sleds (Heel Slides) hurt enough to make me want to curl up and cry. Clearly I have started the day in a bad frame of mind. I pray and ask the Lord to help me keep my eyes on Him, and I ask Him to continue to heal me and help me wait patiently on Him. Why my patience runs out after about two days after a word of encouragement, I have no idea. Maybe my Encouragement Cork is loose or something, and whenever a fresh supply of encouragement is poured in, it leaks out faster than it should. I get breakfast for everyone and both Fosters have fun plans today, so I see them off. Michael has begun using the cane I discarded a few days after my surgery, but he isn’t using it correctly. I show him what I learned and he tries, but can’t retain it. I let it go. Most of the time he just carries it around with him and doesn’t use it for support. I look at my calendar and breathe a sigh of relief that today and tomorrow there is nothing written there. That means I’ll be able to ice and elevate, read, take Michael for an ice cream cone since that’s his favorite treat lately, and maybe even nap. I take a good long time in my Gideon study and wrap my prayer shawl around me, the black and white one that Sharon knitted for a Christmas present a couple of years ago. After lunch Michael, Edith, Mildred and I lie down on the big bed and I’m planning on reading while I know they’ll all sleep. Lo and behold I fall asleep and when I wake up I realize I’ve slept for an hour and a half. I’m stunned and rather pleased. I’ve been a non-napper for so long it feels very nice.

Sunday, July 7, 2013 — It feels luxurious to stay in bed past seven and to know I don’t have to prepare breakfasts and get meds ready until 8:00. I remember that today is my oldest brother’s 71st birthday and marvel that we are as old as we are. I have no desire to live until my seventies, and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. If the Lord decides I should live into my eighties, my 30-year knee should still be good, if I haven’t beaten it to death by then. I limp a lot today because my knee feels so tight and inwardly swollen. Same old, same old, I’m thinking. I remind myself that progress may take months and that this is normal for many people. Keep at it, keep at it. I wonder if having the surgery was the wrong thing, because the results are certainly not what I expected they would be. But when I think about still having my burning, grinding, sometimes crippling pain from before, along with the weird valgus splaying that was happening, I would not go back. So for the meantime I feel a bit trapped, somewhere in between a horribly worn-out knee I couldn’t live with (not from life, but from an injury in 2007 and the resulting meniscus-shaving surgery), and a horrible new knee that I’m not sure I can live with. Yikes. That’s what I have to say today. The woman of many words narrows it down to this today: Yikes. Ouch. Help. Lord. Thank You.

II Chronicles 20:12b — We do not know what to do, but our eyes are upon You.

“After all,” Anne had said to Marilla once, “I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens, but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string.”

~L.M. Montgomery — Anne of Avonlea

I love that quote above. I love the Anne of Green Gables books. And I sort of feel like that’s the way our days are going lately — nothing splendid or exciting is happening, but if we look carefully, there are many simple pleasures bestowed upon us as the quiet summer days pass, and they seem very much like pearls slipping off a string.

By necessity, I am doing only the bare minimum. I get our gals ready for their jobs each morning, make simple meals for everyone, let Edith and Mildred outside when needed, and do a lot of resting. I found a wonderful site online called www.bonesmart.org which has given me good and heartening information about how long recovery from a total knee replacement can take. It has given me the permission I need to ice and elevate, ice and elevate, take a nap once in a while, do my paperwork in bed, make no plans.

So as I heal, much, much more slowly than I had hoped, and not as comfortably either, I find solace in being at home. I gaze at Lake Superior out of all the front windows you see above. I soak in the color and beauty of the flowers Sara planted around our house. I watch an occasional British series in the evenings with Michael. I do my Gideon Bible study and am surprised at the richness found in the book of Judges. I listen to a couple of new CDs we have — Audrey Assad and Amy’s newest. And I’m learning patience, one day at a time.

The pearls are slipping off the string.

And they are lovely.