CONFIDENCE

What can you do confidently?

Why?

I can walk. I have two feet. 

My feet are attached to my two legs and by various joints, muscles and other structures common to the human body they move me about without any real need to consciously consider them.  At least that was the case when I was younger. I loved to run and hike, actively participate in work and play,  and dance - and dance and dance.  I expected to always do so.

A morning of September 1988 changed my confidence levels forever. That morning, in the early cold of predawn,  my youngest son stood crying on the stair landing as everyone hurried down to warmer kitchen and living areas.  No one, even me really, wanted to deal with the sodden, droopy 'morning' diaper or the endlessly running nose. I scooped him up and turned to descend the dozen or so steps and join our brief morning gathering to read scriptures and join together to pray as a family before everyone began their other usual schedules and activities.

My father allowed his children to work along side him on the farm and construction sites IF we obeyed and IF we worked. Many of the tasks we learned required agility and endurance.  'High wire' walks along beams and rafters was routine.  We walked up and down ladders, extending more than one story, with habitual confidence the way most people walk up and down stairs  - yes we did go down walking forwards, facing out from the building! I think Dad told us not to but he did it to transport larger loads so why wouldn't we? I once saw him sit on the edge of a high ladder and slide - zip - just like that, to the bottom.  He was in a hurry. I was never that brave. To my brothers it was like a game.

Our confidence was gained over time and based on acquired experience, tested and repeated again and again.    Like a toddler learning to walk, we began climbing ladders one rung at a time clinging to each step and having difficulty negotiating the transitions from ladder to roof and roof to ladder.  Soon we could scramble up a ladder in no time at all and then we learned various ways to carry things needed for ourselves and others.  Incentives of all kinds encouraged us: the simple challenge of doing it - of being 'up' there, being with dad, wages given for nailing sheeting and shingles or other simple but tedious jobs, and what child can resist being a hero - taking daddy a drink of water, more nails or his dropped hammer?

That morning of 1988 as I turned and confidently stepped down the first step, with a young child in my arms, my left heel caught on the rubber stair nosing. I tried desperately to regain my balance and stay upright or even to only sit down. Many scenarios and options flashed, like a movie reel on fast forward, through my mind. I was instantly certain of impeding injury.  I could imagine my child's head hitting the distant vinyl covered, concrete floor like a pumpkin thrown onto a sidewalk. I could imagine my body twisted or my face skinned, scabbed or bruised purple yellow. An instantaneous impulse of self preservation provided the option to drop him and grab the handrail. The same split second evaluated holding him with one arm and grabbing with the other.

My mother instinct, combined with that image of a smashed pumpkin, provided to mind the only option being to lean backwards and hold him tightly to my chest so that my body would be his cushion.  My left leg remained caught. As I began to slide my full weight fell onto the leg as it folded behind and underneath me.  I felt the skin tear from the shin and foot and knew this was going to be a big nuisance - and I had so much to do.

I was extremely exasperated to consider how my busy schedule would be so messed up. Part way down the stairway I heard and felt the snap.  I knew the bone was broken. I tried to conjure solutions to what I considered a ridiculous situation. I was too busy to have this happening!

My husband roused a neighbor, backed our car over the apartment complex lawn to the door and they carried me to it. I kept the leg bent at a 90 degree angle - that seemed to lessen the immense pain. At the hospital David drove up to the ambulance entrance and ran into the hospital. Soon he returned with a nurse.  She wanted to know if I wanted a wheel chair or if I thought I could walk!?!?!

My confidence in anyone's sanity, including my own ebbed when I had to insist I could not get into a wheel chair. In her defense I later learned she had asked him if I was pregnant. When all she could understand of what David told her was that 'it was broken' she assumed my 'water broke'.

The oblique fractures of the tibia and fibula required a 10 day hospital stay, shortened my leg by 3/4" and required extensive Physical Therapy. A cast from toe to hip provided very limited mobility for approximately 8 months.

My visiting teacher came to the hospital to see me.  She reminded me that if I had enough faith in Jesus Christ that I could 'rise and walk'.  I knew I could IF that was God's will, but I did not feel like it was. I tend to trust God.  I trust that He knows what is best and will bless me to have what I need when I need it.  I have complete confidence that He knows me and loves me and will bless me with what is best for me and right for me - especially when I ask for the blessings I need. (My family prayed and asked for me and I asked for Priesthood blessings also.)

Later I wondered what took more faith - to 'rise and walk' or not to. I thought of the man in Acts that was lame all his life that was lain near the door of the temple to beg.  He was not healed by Christ but by Peter and John after the crucifixion. How much faith does it take to submit my desires and will to God and trust Him to grant or withhold omnisciently?

At first I held a rather big pity party. When I could at last turn over from side to side doctors discovered injuries to my back. After being informed that I was really lucky that my leg took the brunt of the fall and saved my back I was suddenly quite happy to have only a broken leg.  In my heart I knew what doctors were saying was sort of correct - I had been 'lucky' - blessed and protected and so had my son.  He had no injury at all.

At the hospital one specialist voiced that I might never really walk again.  That made me quite cranky. I had a life to live, a family to raise and besides I wanted to dance.  One of my pleasures in life has always been to dance. I consider my sweetest moments to have been encircled in my husband's arms as we waltzed or jived.

The next couple of years I did not dance.  Wheel chairs are MUCH more mobile than crutches and besides I could look my 5 year old and toddler in the eye AND they loved to push mommy and go for rides.  We were even able to go to the park on nice days. Crutches allowed me to negotiate restricted spaces and after a few weeks I was able to resume many activities and take care of most basic needs for myself and my pre-schoolers. Who needs dancing when you can manage basic hygiene with minimal help?

2 years later I walked without crutches or canes. Climbing ladders, even carefully, was out of the question but I continued to work on mobility and could walk up and down stairs.  I never know when the joint, leg or weight of the built-up shoe will do something strange or unpredictable.That leg has not inspired confident activity since. Experience induces caution.

 There are many things I can do. There are many things I can't.
 I am now confident that caution is needed when I walk or run, climb or dance.

What inspires confidence?

In 3rd grade I took piano lessons for 6 months. The teacher indicated mom should find another teacher.  I frustrated her - but that is a different story.  I have plunked away on the piano every since then.  I am not a confident piano player.

When one of my brothers was married I had sheet music for a popular song. At home I could play it well enough that it was recognizable.  I was asked to play that song as part of his wedding program.  I hesitated but was 'talked' into it.  You might think I would have begun to seriously practice playing it - you might be wrong.  When his new sister-in-law (an accomplished pianist my age) played her song, I knew my stumbling plunking should never have a public hearing.  When I was pushed to play and refused everyone thought I had stage fright. I knew better.

I walked out and did not return until the last item on the program was being performed.  The master of ceremonies then announced that I would play.  I could have died.  Of course everyone thought I was just nervous and told me not to worry about it.  My fear had nothing to do with the stage.  I had not prepared properly.  I could have.  I didn't.

Confidence does not come from laziness or neglect. Confidence and faith are the opposite of fear.

The Book of Hebrews in the Bible teaches about Faith.
(see chapter 11)

Faith is an action word. Faith requires me to do and think.

How many hours each day do professional musicians practice?

I seldom practice consistently every day. If I did I likely could play the piano more confidently. It isn't a priority for me. I don't have sufficient desire. It seems to be merely an idle curiosity. 

What can I do confidently? Why can I do it with confidence?

I can do almost anything I truly desire to do - God willing.

What do I really desire? What am I willing to practice? repetitively make a priority?

Do I want to dance? Will I make the effort?

Consistently?

Persistently?

I am a seamstress. I make, alter and mend clothing and furnishings of all kinds. I have learned, practiced and applied rules and techniques many times. Consistently!Persistently! I know I can do most things and figure out things I may still need to learn.

Modern scripture teaches that confidence begins with obedience to true principles and faith.

"All true faith must be based upon correct knowledge or it cannot produce the desired results. Faith in Jesus Christ is the first principle of the gospel [of Jesus Christ] and is more than belief, since true faith always moves its possessor to some kind of physical and mental action; it carries an assurance of the fulfillment of the things hoped for. A lack of faith leads one to despair, which comes because of iniquity." Bible Dictionary: Faith

What can you do confidently? Why can you do it with confidence?

You know you can do it because you have paid a price. Jesus Christ the only begotten son of God the Father paid a price for our confidence in him - he gave his life and all his love. What will I do/give for confidence in him?

I can do almost anything I truly desire to do - God willing
- so can you..

What do I really desire? How about you?

What are we willing to practice? repetitively make a priority?

I need to just try!

AND TRY AGAIN!!

62 AND COUNTING

Today,
14 October 2010, my parents will have been married
for 62 years.

They expect to remain together forever,
through life and after death - through all eternity.

I have one outstanding, wonderful memory of my parents from 1980. It is from the day their house burned to the ground. I remember my father putting his arms gently around my sobbing mother and beginning to sing softly in her ear:

"Hey, hey, good lookin'
Wa-what-cha got cookin' ..."

And then they laughed, so did all the firefighters, neighbors and family helplessly standing by.

I don't even know if that memory is real.  Was I there? or did I only hear someone describe it? I was somewhere: I just honestly don't know where at that exact moment - doesn't matter, really.  It is as alive and real in my memory as if I were there. I can still smell the smoke and see the glowing red of our burning house as piece by piece it fell into the basement pit that would glow for days.

1980 - sigh - too many memories there, but this one memory of my parents I sift from the others and cherish.

May 19, 1980 dawned beautifully sunny in Southern Alberta.  As we ate breakfast, sent the children out to play, and began a typical 'small-farm-Monday-in-the-spring' busy day we did not know of an event that had occurred in Washington State that would impact our own lives. At 8:32 a.m. PDT on Sunday, 18 May 2010 Mount St. Helens catastrophically erupted.

Television signals did not really reach under the hill to the small rural property, in the quiet valley we called home, and news on the radio usually consisted of hearing the latest prices for wheat, rye or alfalfa hay, and cattle or hogs. That day, and the next, were not different - the radio had no unusual news.

New home on same site

About 10 a.m. MDT that Monday morning a strange murky white haze appeared in the SW over the mountains. As I stood looking out the west kitchen window, watching some of my children and several of their cousins playing outside, the haze quickly became a cloud and suddenly the day became oddly overcast - not dark, not cloudy. It did not feel or smell like rain.

Soon an extremely fine, powdery, grayish white dust began to be visible on dark woodwork. We puzzled and thought and discussed what it might be. We gathered into the house and closed off doors and windows but in that old farmhouse it made little difference.  The dust continued to filter in.

Was there a disaster?
A bomb?
Was the world as we knew it ending? changing?
WHAT? Especially the dust!
Was it dangerous?

My mother continued to work outside planting and then watering some poplars near my brother's across the valley. She said it wasn't making her cough or affecting her in any noticeable way so until she was told otherwise she had work to do.  She did agree the children should be sheltered and suggested calling the local radio or TV station.

Noon became as dark as most evenings at dusk.

Local media knew nothing. Signals originated from approximately one hour north in a larger city and the day there was still clear and sunny. Even later in the afternoon they still had no news except what people in our area were calling to tell them.  Although we stayed indoors for the remainder of that day no answers could be found. There was no Internet, no Google, no Ask.

Eventually we learned about the volcano.
Was the dust safe to touch? inhale? No one knew.
The skies cleared, the sun returned.
We dusted and life went on as always.

Until June.

Several rural families in the immediate area (at least 4) lost their homes to fire without apparent cause that spring.  One insurance agent speculated that volcanic dust had settled into everything and may have shorted out ancient electrical wiring.  My parents home of 30+ years was one.

THAT was a strange day.  The baby was already down for a nap when my mother called up the stairs and asked me to accompany her to town.  I was reading my 4 year old our usual pre-nap story. I told mom, "no, too much trouble etc. etc." She went to the truck, and then returned to the house and called to me again.  She just 'felt' like she needed me to come. I finally loaded up the baby, and a very 'happy-to-skip-a-nap' preschooler, to go to town - a 15 minute drive.

Later on, while we did business and errands, a man walking down the street said to my mother in passing, "Jean, was that your house that burned in Kimball today?"

In my heart I knew it was.  I think she did too. We went immediately home. We could see the column of smoke away and over the foothills as soon as we left town. My mother drove. My father was many hours away at work. He often worked out of town and returned on weekends or even only once a month.

There was little water from their shallow wells. Everyone did all possible - it was as nothing in quelling the roaring orange and yellow swirling flames.

Late afternoon had not quite given way to early evening when my father arrived.  Most of my 10 siblings had come quickly. The one that lived across the valley was there from the onset. His wife helped care for the children. I remember I stayed there with her mostly, but otherwise we stood around at a distance not really knowing what to do or say.  The neighbors stayed too, and came and went - so many people! So much coming and going - and already they were bringing whatever they thought we might need.  (Meals were provided around the clock for several days, at first to all the family  and firemen, and then to all helping hands.)

We knew dad was on his way.  Kind friends had tracked him down and called.  His boss owned a small plane and flew to the nearest airport.  I suppose we just waited.

My father and mother often sang; as they worked, as they drove to and from here or there, and especially as they relaxed.  An evening bonfire gathering was always an occasion for song, we knew many, our family often sang. My father used quotes and songs on all occasions. He loved to tease and sang many teasing love songs to mother.

His heavy cowboy boots drug into the gravel before the truck halted completely.  He went directly to mother and wrapped his arms around her from behind before she even knew he was there.  He was just shy of 6 feet, she was barely 5'2" - the top of her head did not even clear his shoulder.

As he began to softly sing, at first we could hardly hear. Then, as she turned to him, we heard his voice as she laughed - "Hey, hey good lookin', wha-whatcha gotta-cookin" - we all laughed. We still laugh.  That song has become an 'inside' joke ... a 'time-of-trouble' comfort to fall back on - it is an easy and answerable question - "Hey good lookin' - whatya got cookin'?

I have been born of choice 'goodly' parents.

Their powerful examples of faith and fortitude have continued.  With good cheer and determination they have overcome many, many difficulties. October 14, 2010 they will have been married 62 years. In trouble they seemed to turn to each other and to Heavenly Father instead of away.

What a bonfire that was.

 Hey Good Lookin’  Hank Williams 1951

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XSozIEo-Fuk
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bjCoKslQOEs

Say hey, good lookin’. Wha-wacha got cookin? 

Hows about cooking somethin’ up with me?
Hey hey, sweet baby, do-o-on’t you think maybe, 

We can find us a brand new recipe?

I got a hot rod Ford, and a two dollar bill; 

And I know a spot right over the hill.
There’s soda pop and the dancing’s free, 

So if you wanna have fun, come along with me.

Hey hey, good lookin’, wha-wacha ya got cookin? 

Hows about cooking somethin’ up with me?

I’m free and I’m ready, so we can go steady,

   Hows about saving all your time for me?
No more lookin’, I know I been cookin”,

 Hows about keepin’ steady company?

I’m gonna throw my date book over the fence, 

And buy me one for five or ten cents
I’ll keep it till it’s covered with age, 

cause I’m writin’ your name down on every page.

So hey, good lookin’, wha-aat ya got cookin’? 

Hows about cooking somethin’ up with me?

T-M-I

Did you ever see a coach signal ‘time out’? It’s a distinctive hand signal.

I see it used mostly in jest between peers, among many that are younger than I am, as in “TOO MUCH INFORMATION”! – STOP - that is too personal, too complicated or not really what I asked - accompanied with the statement T-M-I !!!

Some days I wish I could do that – signal ‘time out’ – TMI – I don’t want to know - except I do. I just wish I didn’t. Basically I am of a decently curious ilk but there are things I don’t think about, search out or learn until it affects me personally.

Being diagnosed with possible ‘sarcoma’ is one of those things – are you serious? POSSIBLE! really? Oh – and now the specialist of specialists thinks this thing (15cm x 9cm x 8cm – visualize your two fists side by side and fit them into a muscle in your thigh) is definitely NOT a sarcoma but is only a benign atypical lipoma – am I supposed to shout for joy? Kiss the clinically sterile pronouncing face in relief? What do you do with this kind of news – of both kinds?

I learn things I never really wanted to know. I ask for second and even third opinions. And then I make decisions – decisions I never really wanted to need to make.

If you don’t want to know, TMI, click the X at the top of the page now. Below is actually the good news – and TMI.

And BTW – if this isn’t TMI simply copy any one of the terms below into your browser and then click on every linked word you see – you should be able to reach your personal TMI threshold easily.

The division of cells to produce new ones is under tight control by the "genes" within each cell. These genes are made up of DNA, and if it becomes damaged, that cell may start dividing out of control. Soft Tissue Cancer starts in a single cell which has become abnormal. This cell produces millions, and eventually billions, of copies of itself. The copies are called" clones". These clones fail to function as normal body tissue, but instead divert resources from healthy cells to fuel their own growth. When there are about 1 billion cells, they form a clump, or "tumor" 1/2 inch across. A "tumor" merely means a swelling; it can be caused by infection, inflammation, cancer or whatever.

If a tumor can only grow in its local area (even very large) but does not have the capacity to spread to distant body areas, it is called "benign" and is not cancer. If, however, the tumor has the ability to spread to distant body areas, it is called "malignant" and this is cancer. The actual process of spread is called" metastasis", and can occur to any area of the body.

For benign Soft Tissue tumors, they are commonly given the suffix "oma" . The most common types of benign tumor are "Lipoma " (from fat), "Leiomyoma " (from smooth muscle) and "Fibroma " (from fibrous tissue). These benign tumors may grow very large, but they will never "metastasize" (spread distantly) and so are not considered "cancer". Simply removing them surgically should be curative, and if surgery is not practical then radiation therapy will often shrink them. Unless they are disturbing body function or cosmetic appearance, they often require NO THERAPY.

For malignant Soft Tissue tumors, they are commonly given the suffix"sarcoma." This means a cancer that has arisen from the mesenchymal tissue, as opposed to "carcinomas", which develop from the body's lining tissues and organs. Any tumor that is called a "sarcoma" is cancerous, but not all cancerous mesenchymal tumors end with "sarcoma ”. However, the common ones do, and include "Liposarcoma"(from fat cells), "Rhabdomyosarcoma" (from skeletal muscle cells), "Leiomyosarcoma" (from smooth muscle cells), "Fibrosarcoma" (from fibrous cells) and "Chondrosarcoma" (from cartilage cells). "Osteosarcoma" is the most common bone cancer, but is not considered a"Soft Tissue Sarcoma" and is discussed as a "Primary Bone Tumor."

 Other, rarer types of Soft Tissue Sarcoma (which may or may not have the word "sarcoma" in them) include "Angiosarcoma" (divided into Hemangiosarcoma and Lymphangiosarcoma-- from blood or lymph vessels), "Hemangiopericytoma"(also from a blood vessel cell),"Mesothelioma" (from abdominal or lung linings), "Synovial Sarcoma" (from joint linings), "Neurofibrosarcoma" (from nerve sheaths), "Kaposi'sSarcoma (origin uncertain) and "Malignant Fibrous Histioctyoma" (from fibrous tissue). Some of the above are more aggressive than others, but they are all cancer!

How Common is Soft Tissue Sarcoma?
Each year in there about 8,000 new cases of "Soft Tissue Sarcoma" in the United States, which cause approximately 2,500 deaths per year. Thus, they represent ~1% of all new cancers. Soft Tissue Sarcoma is about 3 times more common than Bone Sarcoma. There are two "peaks" of most common patient age, one in childhood at 10 years old and the other in 40 year old adults. Thus Sarcomas are unlike the other major type of cancer, "Carcinomas" (e.g. breast, lung, prostate, colo-rectal) which all tend to get more likely as we age. Males and Females are overall equally affected by Sarcomas. In children, the most common type of Soft Tissue Sarcoma is "Rhabdomyosarcoma" (from skeletal muscle cells), which occur mostly in the Head and Neck areas. In adults, the most common type is now "Fibrosarcoma"or "Malignant Fibrous Histiocytoma", which tends to occur in the trunk or extremities. In contrast to childhood cases, the least common area for adult sarcomas is in the Head and Neck area. Overall, the number of new cases of Soft Tissue Sarcoma has remained stable for the past 3 decades.

The common underlying factor is damage to "DNA" which causes the affected cell to become "transformed" -- that is lose control over it's division. Cancer is ultimately a disease of the DNA! The DNA is packed into thousands of "genes", which are themselves located upon the 48 "chromosomes" (46 general plus 2 sex chromosomes) that all healthy humans have in every cell. The chromosomes become visible under an ordinary light microscope when cells divide, and nearly every case of Sarcoma shows chromosome damage. This damage usually includes pieces missing from chromosomes ("deletions"), or even parts of one chromosome getting stuck onto another ("translocations").  Overall, anything which can damage DNA, the fundamental genetic material, will increase the risk of a cell turning cancerous. This damage may be "latent", meaning a cancer may arise many years or decades after the damage occurs.

Can Sarcomas Be Prevented?

There is no sure way to prevent sarcomas. It is always a good idea to avoid unnecessary exposure to potential carcinogens and avoid unwarranted X-rays. This is especially true for patients with family susceptibility to cancers, or who actually have genetic diseases.

If a worrisome sign or symptom arises (see below) it should be evaluated promptly, and not ascribed to some benign process without proof. Eating a diet with enough vitamin C ("Ascorbic Acid") is important for proper maintainance and healing of soft tissues. Vitamin C deficiency results in a breakdown of the soft tissues ("scurvy"), since it is essential for crosslinking their crucial collagen proteins. However, taking too much can also be harmful by causing the blood to become too acidic ("ascorbic acidemia"). A standard supplement multi-vitamin is well advised.

The human muscular system is incredibly engineered, providing for body support, movement, and the storage of sugar energy in the form of glycogen. There are 3 basic types of muscle in the body: Skeletal Muscle for voluntary movement, Smooth Muscle for involuntary processes like digestion, and Cardiac Muscle in the heart. Normally the muscles are a very trouble-free system, maintained by simple activity and exercise. Rarely, however, cancers called "sarcomas" arise from muscle. Smooth muscle gives rise to "myosarcoma", and skeletal muscle to "rhabdomyosarcoma". see also: Pleomorphic type or pleomorphism. Usually seen in adults and arises in muscles of the extremities

It is crucial to get prompt diagnosis and proper treatment for a muscle cancer problem. This can make the difference between keeping or losing a limb, or even between life and death. Fortunately, recent advancements in therapy make limb loss less likely, and cure more like, than ever before. Understanding your options for a Muscle Cancer problem will give you the peace of mind of knowing you have done everything possible to help ensure a happy outcome.

'CancerAnswers' material explains, in plain English, the definition, types, frequency, risk factors, symptoms, evaluation, historic and latest effective treatment for Muscle Cancers. We tell you everything you must know to make the right choices today to deal with a Muscle Cancer problem.

IT'S NOT RAINING - yet

Recently my hubby and I helped our youngest son plant a garden plot.  The afternoon was windy and clouded over as we drove 1 ½ hours to his home.  As we arrived large drops of rain randomly splashed - one here – another there – not enough to be noticed unless one hit you dead on – then you might wonder where the water came from or if it might rain; but you might be missed 
– and then there was a break and the sun came out.

He showed me his overgrown but beautiful white and purple lilac bushes lining the property.  I showed him how to hoe the rows and commented, “I sure hope we don’t get wet.”

He matter-of-factly replied, “It’s not going to rain.”

The next time I made a weather related comment a slow drip, drip drop of sprinkling had begun.  I was worried.  This was our one shot, only available time to get the job done. He again told me not to worry.  Emphatically he said, “Mom – believe – it is not going to rain.”  The sprinkling stopped and the steady breeze dried us to only damp.  He was right.   The dirt still had dust under a skim of moist soil.  We continued to plant. 

He hoed, I tossed down seeds in the rows and Papa covered them with soil – or some variation of that rotation.  The drip, drip drop started again – steadily this time.  I grimly refused to comment another time.  The weather itself would settle the matter and I was already damp.  The water that formed into droplets and fell from my hair onto my royal blue, gardening over-shirt or ran down my neck occasionally was indistinguishable from the spreading, darkening (to a bright navy) as the shirt became wet enough to start to seep through to my t-shirt.

Funny etched looking, dry footprints walked behind each of us as our feet picked up enough of the shallow mud layer to make thick clods that could be shaken off after a few steps. We were almost finished. While I planted a watermelon, and tomato and pepper sets they dug in several rows of pre-cut seed potatoes.  Corn, carrot, pea, bean, pumpkin, lettuce and cucumber seeds lay nicely ordered in rows marked at each end with small stones that had tilled to the surface during soil preparation.  I felt smug at how our persistence might pay dividends; if the rain continued, the dry seeds would be soaked with no effort on our part at no cost to us.

Rainy gusts alternated with random misty sprinkles. While Papa put away tools and finished the last details, my son and I headed for the front and side flower beds to place a few flower seeds.  (Someone had given him quite a few packages of seeds and we had also transplanted some spaghetti squash starts someone had provided.)  As we opened the seemingly frivolous flower seeds the sky also seemed to open.  Quickly we buried the seed and ran to the car but it was too late.  I peeled off my dripping over-shirt.  It was wet enough to wring water from its long twill tails.

We laughed – that previous little bit of sprinkling wasn’t rain.
This was rain!

As we drove away to look at some nicely pruned lilacs we had seen across town

the windshield of the car looked like the stream from a fire hose was washing over it.  The wipers at their fastest speed could not keep up.  We drove slowly and chuckled.  It hadn’t rained; at least not until we had finished the requisite gardening.  My heart was full of thanks.  God had stilled a storm even as I doubted and mentally muttered.

My attitude thought I was enduring rain.  Then the weather settled the matter – and watered the garden too. Pounding rain continued the rest of the evening. I felt humbled.  

When we returned home we could see the wind had displaced many things in our area and significant moisture had fallen.  The next morning we heard news reports of a small tornado that twisted the barn of a local farmer into a heap.

God had indeed stilled a genuine storm.  He knows our every need.  And we always can trust Him to know what is best for each of us.  My own attitude is the real difference.

Has it rained on you yet?

(Sure - it may have a tornado in it.) 

MERRY CHRISTMAS 12 MAY 2010

I got a bike for Christmas.  Papa gave me a miniature bicycle with working wheels, stunt pegs, pedals, and brakes.  Pretty cool little bike - the seat even is on a tension spring.  All the kids that come want to take it home.  I left it on the tree until we cleaned up Christmas.

Now it lives on the bookshelf at child's eyeball (and finger tip) height. I didn't know it could be taken apart like a real bike and that there are interchangeable parts (to buy of course). The kids tell me this as they hold up their hands full of pieces and tell me there is one (tiny) piece they can't seem to find!
But we do seem to always find it.

I never really believed I could ride a bike again -
walk, yes - run - maybe...
but ride a bike????

I have been working on increased mobility for about 2 or 3 years.
Papa keeps egging me on.

I pedal my small exercise bike.  The kids all love it too.  When Avy and Raanin are here for Christmas 08 it really gets a work out.

The grandkids can't seem to leave it in one piece either. There is a tension screw on top to adjust how hard it pedals. Funny thing - those pedals seem to always be put away when some kids visit lately.  Mom taught me that "what the eye can't see the heart can't grieve.' And they can't punch each other or cry about turns neither.

The left leg/ankle will do what ever the right leg makes the pedals do.

Last week Papa announced that he has the bikes ready.  Monday we bought 2 bike helmets at a local department store. That was Family Home Evening this week.

Wednesday was the big day.
I DID IT!
I rode a bike.

I got on it!
I almost fell down!
Papa lowered the seat.  Now I could touch the ground with my longest leg. (He showed me how to simply mount it by stepping on one pedal and swinging your other leg over as you get going - YEAH - RIIGGHHHTT!!!)

I rode it wobbling crookedly into the sprinkler and got soaking wet - but I did not crash!

I suggested Papa lower and level the front of the seat. Now I could get on AND off more readily and (if I tip the bike slightly) get either foot on the ground.

I rode it down the block and back to the driveway. (Yes I looked like a drunk driver - I assume with practice that will improve.)

I rode it all the way around the block with Papa, on his bike.

Then he put them away in the garage.  An hour later (as it gets dark) I realize a pivotal moment, in my life, has occurred.

He did not realize it would be so difficult (or time consuming) for me to get myself by the scruff of the neck and make myself get on that bike. I honestly wasn't sure I could.  What if ... ????

We decide to take pictures. They are not wonderful but they are taken on that same day! (His back hurts if he leans over too much or too long so, a while ago, he fixed his bike so that it has high, upright handle bars.)

 He has a lot of fun on the bikes.  And I do love my helmet - color that is - it is one of my favorite colors!  He says it matches my eyes.