Have stoles, will travel

Yay! I just received the stole I ordered! I looooovvve it! This gal, Jenny, does amazing work for reasonable prices. Check out her work at www.carrottopstudio.com or on Ebay (No, I'm not getting a cut or any benefit from this recommendation!). Here are pics of the new stole and some others I ordered from her in the past.

Those of you out of town probably haven't heard the full update of call possibilities. I think there are two possibilities in the running right now. One is 1/2 hour from the city we're trying to be near and the other is about an hour away. They are both solo pastorates. One of them is in a vacation town and looks like a great opportunity. The other one is more rural and is in a GREAT area of the synod. I'd have amazing collegues. If, for some Godforsaken reason, neither of these works out, there are other possibilities that just opened up and will be ready to interview in the coming months. I feel like Cinderella, only I'm singing "Someday, my church will come...." Ok...that was corny. Time to stop.

Construction, vision, old friends, cats in heat & parenting

The boys and I just returned from La Crosse. Because of construction, the trip took nearly 2 hours more each way than it should have. I am tired of driving!!! We went to La Crosse so TT could have a vision exam and be screened for a vision processing disorder. He came away with reading glasses and a line up of vision therapy appointments. It ends up his eyes process information in their own unique style, have poor stamina, and do not "team" effectively. We'll be driving up to La Crosse weekly for awhile. But if it helps, it is so worth it.

We were able to stay with some great friends, M & A, about an hour North. What a treat for the kids to play with their buddy (M & A's son) and to have a change of scenery. Our friends are so hospitable and it is always so great to see them. They're those rudder type people who seem to steadily go along while the currents of life ebb and flow. I appreciate their style, which is so unlike mine. Our hosts invited, T & B, some other former classmates over. They had just moved a few miles from where we were. What a great surprise! One of their kids had just celebrated his birthday and we were able to do an impromptu birthday party Wednesday night. Yay!

The funniest part of the whole experience was our friends' cat, Vivienne. She is always entertaining anyway (e.g., climbing into kitchen drawers through kitchen cabinets, sitting in baskets on the top of the fridge...). This time, she was in heat. Need I say more? It was an evening full of entertainment and yowling. I had to wonder what TT knew and understood when he said, "Vivi is saying, 'I need a boyfriend!!!!! Give me some babies!!!!!!!! I need a boyfriend!!!!!!'" I guess he heard us talking about how they're going to breed her next year...

The ride home, as I said before, was long. In addition to the construction drama, we only had one Gameboy (well...we thought we only had one until we got home and found the other under a seat!!! Aaarrgh) and both kids wanted to play it. TT had decided very intentionally not to bring his Gameboy. But...then he changed his mind and could not understand why this was not anybody else's fault or problem. Needless to say, for my own sake and for the sake of my sanity, I ended up buying off CH with a new game if he'd let his brother play Gameboy on the way home. TT, of course, needed a game to play and I ended up buying him one too. I can't believe I just spent over $60 on Gameboy games!!! I told C about the whole mess when he got home and he completely understood. Thank you, Jesus! John Rosemond, if you don't like what went down, tough beans! It works for us! (If you don't know who Rosemond is, consider yourself lucky. Yep, that's him in the pic). Our local newspaper blesses us with his column each Sunday, and he gives what I consider to be among the worst parenting advice in print. Scary "traditional parenting" kind of stuff that makes me wonder: (a) if he ever raised his own children - really raised them and was there and engaged and not just a "wait 'til your father gets home" kind of Dad, (b) if he does have children, if his children have any use for him today, and (c) what he would do with a special needs child on a 24/7 basis (I feel empathy for the kid just thinking about this). When I searched google for a pic, I discovered he's got a book called "Parenting by THE BOOK" (caps are not mine) - sounds like some seemingly "Evangelical Christian" stuff. For all I know, he and Dobson are in cahoots. Run away, parents, run away!!!! [Bring on the comments, readers! If my experience is anything like Shana's, I'm sure I'll tick off some stranger for this.]

I suppose if I'm wasting my time ranting on about this guy, it's time to sign off.

Signed,
Proud to be a trust-my-gut Mom

Links, links and more links!

Hey, check out the links on the right. I've added some great resources for special needs families and some other goodies. Happy surfing!

For the record, our son is not diagnosed with Asperger's (a form of autism), but the letter on this link is a gem.

That's why I want to do this ministry thing...

I supplied this weekend at a rural church where one of my favorite former profs is pastor. On Thursday, my friend, B, cut the meat of his thumb pretty badly and asked me to cover for him. Poor guy, he really did a number on his hand - at least he's getting great drugs... Because of other things on the agenda on Thursday and Friday, I wasn't able to begin the sermon in earnest until Saturday. I was concerned about being able to provide the text (and the congregation) a faithful proclamation. But I was lucky - this was one of those weeks when the Spirit seemed to type through my fingers and put the words together for me.

On Saturday afternoon, I headed to the 5 o'clock service. The church is about an hour away and I had a nice drive, during which I was able to both ponder and let my thoughts wander. I got to the church and let myself in (how awesome is this - they never lock the church). I could not find the main light switch for the life of me. Of course, I could find every obscure light switch - just not the one I truly needed! Two ladies showed up shortly after I arrived and they turned the light on. They gave me the "you silly girl, how could you miss that!?!" treatment that Midwesterners seem particularly adept at providing.

The two ladies, G and M, were the congregation for the Saturday night service. We confessed and absolved and sang and read Scripture. Then came the sermon. What a hoot! Now, it's a bit strange to preach for a congregation of 2. Additionally, M, who is hard of hearing, decided to interupt me numerous times to share her related (and unrelated) insights into what I was saying. At about paragraph 2 (loosely - I gave up the manuscript after the 2nd sentence), M hollered to G (as if I wasn't there and wasn't talking), "Hey, that reminds me of the Bible study story from Thursday. What was that story???" G calmly answered with a short description of the story. "Huh..." M replied, "I guess that actually has nothing to do with the sermon..." With that, I continued on a sentence or two, attempting to get through the story in the sermon. M interupted again with, "I've been to that town in Germany. Let's see....it would've been in XX (whatever year she said)...I went with so and so and, oh, that Wartburg Castle - what a site!" Then G chimed in, "I went there with George in the 70s. What a great trip..." Then she began to share insights from that experience. Somehow, I was able to roll her story into the point of the sermon. Basically from this point, we ended up talking and lightly touching on the text and sermon theme. They shook their heads knowingly on the few theological insights I suggested. Then we sang Amazing Grace, did a creed (they went back and forth about which one we should do after I announced the Apostles Creed: "We haven't done the Nicene Creed in awhile" "True, but it's so long..." "Oh, let's do it anyway...." "Well...I dunno. What do you think pastor?") and all the other liturgical followings. We sang the doxology and chatted as we left.

Somehow through the experience, though, I was reminded that this is so truly what I want to be doing. My thoughts were no longer turned inward focusing on anxieties and unknowns. Building relationships, walking with people and meeting them where they're at - this is what I'm yearning to do. Laughing together, hearing all about M's rosacea, poison ivy and past surgeries within the first 5 minutes of meeting her, learning the peculiarities of the congregation - this is what I can't wait to do. I want to be a pastor and I know I will be. This waiting, however, stinks. I know logically that the right call will emerge exactly when and how and where God intends. I just think God's timing and mine are unsyncronized. Big surprise, right? Maybe I should buy God a calendar showing when the kids' school year starts, how long it takes to line up moving trucks, how long the process of purchasing real estate takes, etc, etc.

I also supplied at the same church on Sunday. It was also a great experience. I think the congregation numbered 12. I was able to catch each eye during the sermon, and the group that I was told was stoic and not talkative, raved about the service and the sermon. During the sermon, they laughed at the right moments (but didn't interupt at all!). They were chatty, warm, and so welcoming.

The 14 or so people of Small Country Church in Small Town, Iowa, ministered to me on Sunday without even knowing it. Through them, God reminded me to hang in there. God reminded me that I am cut out for this gig and that my time will, in fact, come. Through those 14 faces, I once again encountered the reality of God's call to me. Thanks be to God.

In the end…it’s just wax

I’m on day 9 of solo parenting. C’s been living an hour away on a big job and will hopefully be home tonight. It’s actually been going fairly well with just a few blips on the screen. Saturday, I called a neighbor a little after 9pm and asked if she could take TT for awhile. He was in quite a mood. I needed a break. She willingly obliged. I love her! Bedtime with the boys has gone much more smoothly than I predicted. Meals have worked fairly well – I’ve actually only broken down and gotten fast food 3 times in 27 meals. For me, a complete kitchen-hating non-cook, this is miraculous. But I must admit I’m sick of making meals – it feels like a nonstop venture.

But, even with things going fairly well, I’m exhausted. I’ve had nobody to tag team with, nobody in the house right then and there to back me up in the heat of TTs attorney-like assertions, nobody to giggle with when the kids say something cute or funny. I really do not know how single parents do it day in and day out. I really don’t.

This morning I was driven to tears. I’m sure the fact that I got less than 6 hours of sleep couldn’t possibly have anything to do with it. TT found a box of miscellaneous stuff that was collected when I cleaned the basement awhile back. In it, were two candles in a decorative box that I’m sure just looked tempting and intriguing to him. They were our unity candles from our wedding. He had no idea. I walked into the living room and found him picking the decorations off one of the candles. I didn’t loose it (thank God) but explained that those were candles from Daddy and Mommy’s wedding and that the candles were special. He handed me the candles and then I stepped away. TT went upstairs and was snuggled in my bed when I found him awhile later. “I’m super mega sorry, Mommy,” he said with big tears welling in his eyes. I know he meant it.

In the end, the candles are just wax. Nothing more. In the end, TT is much more important than any glob of wax. I suppose from a pastoral perspective, I could wax (pun intended) on about how the candles now represent the realities of marriage: the brokenness, the unintended fights and hard times, the struggles…

Just the same, I think I need a break, a sitter, and a nap. Maybe I'll call in Super Nanny.

Famous last words: "The ER?! Not our kids"

When I began this blog, I thought I wouldn't really have anything to write about. Either that's true (and you're just humoring me by reading these entries), or my blog has given me a life. I didn't intend to add to the blog on a daily basis but this was begging for a write up.

The other night, we were sitting around the firepit with a bunch of friends and they were all talking about their trips to the ER with their children. I stupidly said, "In 10+ years, we've actually never had to take our boys to the ER." Ha!!! Well, we made our inaugural parental visit to the ER last night. And not with TT, the one we'd all predict. At about 8:30 last night, I was sitting at the computer learning the wonders of html and playing with my blog site when I saw it happen. CH was outside tossing a ball around with our neighbor kids. I could see them though my office window - they were having a great time.

The neighbor boy threw the ball up in the air and CH and the neighbor girl both reached for it. And she, all 60 or so pounds of her, came down full weight on his left arm/wrist/hand. At least she caught the ball...

Anyway, CH kept his cool and ventured quickly for the house, grabbing his arm. It didn't look good. He got in the house and lost it. Poor guy. He was hurting worse than I've ever seen him hurt. His arm was already swelling and turning a variety of colors, and he couldn't really move it.

Conveniently, the girl who landed on CH has a mom who is a pediatric nurse. I asked C to go get her and she came right over. There was lots of hmmming and hawing and questions and attempts at movement. We put ice on it. CH gave it about a 7 on the pain scale, even after about 20 or so minutes. It was time to adventure to the ER. It was about 9:20 pm at this point.

Now, where we live, we have 2 hospitals within a mile of each other (a bit strange, don't you think?). I paused at the turn to the first one and, with great mom wisdom, chose the second one because my friend used to work at the second one and because the 2nd one is bigger. Highly informed reasons, don't you think? Later, I remembered that the nurses at the first one are on strike, so I guess I made a good choice afterall.

We got to the hospital and were immediately seen by the intake nurse. I stayed calm (wow - seminary's been a good thing for me) and CH looked like a deer in the headlights who was in extreme pain. The doctor we saw was very enthusiastic and personable, but I think he kind of freaked CH out. He joked about possible amputation and about whether or not his fingers would make it. CH gave him a blank stare that basically said, "Dude, this is no time for jokes. I'm in pain. If you're serious, send another doctor in, ok?" Those of you who know CH have seen his blank stare before. That's the one he gave him.

CH got an x-ray then kicked back on the bed in pain. The ice kind of helped but he was still a 7 on the pain scale. Then the entire city seemed to explode with trauma. Suddenly, in addition to the beep of ER heart monitors, we could hear paramedics calling in about a 7 year old who wasn't breathing and the nurse in the hall was talking about stitches for the girl next door. It was obvious we were low on the triage list and for good reason. So, we waited....and waited....and waited (seems to be a theme lately...). Then someone assured us that the doctor would be in shortly. Then we waited some more.

Then the doctor who couldn't make it as a comedian came in with the x-ray. As far as he could tell, there were no breaks. The nurse (who was absolutely fantastic with CH) came in, grabbed the x-ray from the doctor and said, "No way...I thought for sure it was broken." Then she put the x-ray on the lighted wall thingy and looked at it herself. That kind of cracked me up and joker doctor didn't seem to mind. He actually went over and looked at it with her and they talked about how surprised they both were. "Yeah, he's in so much pain...." "and did you see how he was holding it when he came in?" "Usually these things are always broken arms...." CH and I exchanged glances. His big blue eyes seemed to say, "Hey, Mom, did they forget we're here?????"

Eventually, joker doctor and awesome nurse finished sharing their surprise and figured out that CH needed a splint deal for his arm. Diagnosis: sprained wrist. As soon as the nurse got the deal on his arm, it seemed to help. At this point, it was about 11:00pm.

On the drive home, CH sighed a sigh of relief. "You know, Mom, I was really worried it was broken," he told me.

"Yeah, if it was, you wouldn't have been able to swim the rest of the summer..." I mentioned. Somehow, we both realised that he couldn't play Gameboy now - even though it was just sprained. What a bummer. But then, lo and behold, I walked into the living room today - where CH has set up his own I'm-milking-this-for-all-its-worth hospital suite complete with TV, remote, AC, blankets, snacks, and a little brother who feels sorry for him - and he was playing Gameboy! Maybe he'll strike it big as the world's best one-handed Gameboy champ.

I'm not a certified air conditioner installer

Oh my....last night held the most ridiculous surprise. I decided to read awhile when I went to bed. Since TT was in my bed with C, I went into TTs wonderfully air conditioned room and snuggled into his double bed with a book.

So I'm sitting there reading and I hear: drip........drip.........drip. Now, it's hot outside and there's not a sink in TTs room. But, it's almost 1:00 a.m. and I'm reading a part of Cry the Beloved Country where umfundisi's church roof leaks like a sieve. "I couldn't be imagining the sound, could I?" I thought to myself. The book is not *that* descriptive. So, I furrowed my brow and went back to reading. Then I heard it again: drip....drip......drip. Even the cats heard it and they're not reading the book, so I knew it had to be real.

So I looked over at the air conditioner and sure enough, in the bottom left corner, the Vegietales blanket (explanation to follow) is dripping onto the floor. And not just little drops - big fat drops. I have to admit, I used to kind of like having a chance to mention TTs air conditioned room because I put the ac in there all by myself this year. When I installed it and it was crooked because of the window frame, my flawed ingenuity came up with the plan of putting his Vegietales blanket under the unit to even things out. All should've been well...right? When I told C what I'd done, his closet perfectionism didn't try to fix it. In fact, he was impressed. Well, until I told him this morning about what happened.

Anyway, back to the story. So there I am in TTs room at 1:00 am with Arwen the bulimic cat who thinks she's a dog , Aragorn the cat who makes a living as an escape artist, and a dripping air conditioner. I pulled the Veggietales blanket out, and it was wetter and drippier than Niagra Falls. The cats, of course, found this fascinating. The air conditioner, no longer finding stabilizing support from a blanket, began to teeter in the window pane. I was able to grab it before it found its way directly onto the firepit 15 feet below. Barely. Then Aragorn decided to jump onto the roof and explore while Arwen stood as distractingly underfoot as possible.

Many of you reading this know that the ac is in a dormer window. This presented it's own challenge as I attempted to bring the wet, drippy ac in and not bump my head on the wall/ceiling. TTs bed is right up to the dormer, so I had about 1 1/2 feet to manuever. I didn't want to set the ac on TTs bed, but I had to. So now my bed for the night was, well, wet.

Somehow I managed to get Aragorn the escape artist back inside. Arwen, almost barking with excitement at this point, began sniffing the ac and jumping on and off it. I got the window closed and realised that the leaking has been going on awhile (Shana - don't tell housekeeping!). The window frame has water marks and the floor is still a bit spongy in the dormer area. Maybe it's a good thing we're not moving right away. TTs room needs to dry out first.

Entering the millineum

Today there were 5 moving trucks on my small cul-de-sac of 8 duplexes (there was no way to get all 5 in one picture...but this gives you a sense of the chaos). My friends are beginning to move into lives as pastors. I am waiting...waiting for interviews, waiting for a call to a congregation, waiting for ordination, waiting for my student loan grace period to expire (ok, not really...), waiting for new neighbors to move in. Sounds depressing, but it's not all bad. I'm trying to get accustomed to this low-key, no-deadlines life, and I know I'll be wishing for some free time once I do have a call.

Since graduation in May, I've been bored enough to clean out the basement, my scrapbooking closet (including 6 years of accumulation and pictures) and my office. I've backed up my laptop's hard drive, moved my photo archives to snapfish to free up disk space (over 1 GB of photos were moved!) and wiped the hard drive on my old laptop in order to sell it. The kitchen is actually staying clean (and so are the kids, for the most part) and I'm basically keeping up on laundry.

My boys and I have gone swimming, gone to the movies (Garfield 2 and Shaggy Dog), and gone to the little one's psychiatrist 1 1/2 hours away. We attended a Jimmy Buffett concert as a family (plus our good buddy M came along -- a Buffett virgin!). I've been lucky enough to attend the ordination services for 4 of my classmates/friends. I've also been able to sit by the neighborhood firepit with neighbors who will soon be refered to as "old friends from seminary." It's not that they're old, of course...well, most of them anyway ;) A few nights ago, we took our new firepit to the site where we always gather - in front of J's house. His firepit was packed, ours came out of the box and J diligently and benevolently gave my husband lessons on firestarters, how to stack the pit for best results and all kinds of other stuff that my husband likely already knew but J needed to do in order to pass the torch...it was a closure and a new beginning. I think we all basically denied it was the end of one chapter in life and the beginning of another.

Speaking of new beginnings...and old stuff: today I went to the Dubuque County courthouse, plopped down some quid, and filed a name change petition. See, in 1990 when my husband and I got married, I thought seriously about hyphenating my maiden name and husband's last name. My mother-in-law, who I now adore and love greatly but used to be terribly afraid of, discouraged me because she thought it would be too confusing once my husband and I had kids. Well, now that I'm not afraid of my m-i-l and since I sold my old laptop, I thought, what the hell, I'll do it. The only bummer is that I had to put my weight on the petition. Don't tell the judge that I lied about it, ok? Even with the lie, I'm overweight...just less so. So, anyway, in 30 days, I go meet the man in the black robe and he'll sign a piece of paper that will give me 2 middle names. My new initials should technically be skod, but that's so ugly. I've decided I'll initial as skdo. Afterall, the 'o' came in after the 'd' had been in place awhile. And skdo sounds kinda cute.

I've also rediscovered my crafty side in the last month or so. I designed and beaded by ordination stole. It turned out pretty cool. The design is partly inspired by the sanctuary at the church where I grew up - they have a huge tree painted behind a huge cross that hangs in their sanctuary. For me, the tree in the stole represents everlasting life created by our lives in JC. The roots of the tree sink deeply into the baptismal font, its source of life and identity. The water is overflowing from the font, representing how JC breaks down the walls that divide humanity from the ever-flowing, life-giving waters of our great God. The Holy Spirit is symbolized by the flying dove that carries an olive branch (representing the peace of God) in its beak.

So what does a 38 year-old mom of two do with her free time, besides bead, clean, change her name, and chase two boys? Create a blog, of course. Why not?