Oh, Danny Boy!

Our son Daniel was ripped out of his mother's womb too early, 19 years ago.  I had been admitted into the hospital just before Christmas, 1989, because of a placenta previa.  Daniel threatened to come way too early, and I was thankful that he stayed put until he was only 5 weeks early.  As it was, he had a rough birth.  He weighed just over 7 lbs when he was born.

Before I saw him, Dr. Thornback came into the recovery room and warned us that Daniel was in distress.  I was wheeled down on a stretcher to see the baby, who was hooked up to a ventilator.  He had an IV in his hand and a tube in his umbilicus.  He was wired up to every machine you could think of, and he looked so pathetic.  Yet, my first reaction was-- "what a beautiful baby!"

We went through a difficult couple of months after we came home from the hospital.  Daniel was hungry, but weak, so when he nursed  he didn't take in enough calories to sustain his weight and add any on.  He slowly lost ground.  He ended up being only 5 lbs, 9 oz.

Long story short, we pumped and nursed and force-fed the little guy, and he was transformed from a "little Prune" to a chubby, happy fellow.

And, here we are, nineteen years later.  No longer chubby, Daniel is lanky and lean, over 6 feet tall, intelligent, articulate, and godly.  He loves the Lord, and he loves his family.

And we love him.

Happy Birthday, Danny my Boy!

Jaredity-Jay

Tiana has been baking cookies.  Some of those cookies have been eaten by her recuperating older brother.

It's nearly been a week since the surgery.  Jared has been happily sitting, watching videos, reading, and resting.  At first the leg was well-bandaged, but the seeping blood turned the bandage rock-hard, so that it was cutting into his leg.  I gingerly removed it.

Thirty-four staples, people!  Ugh.

The leg seems to be getting better, but I don't like the swelling, nor do I like the blood pooling at the bottom of the ankle.  I have applied arnica gel to help with the bruising, and have given Jared plenty of Vitamin C, cod liver oil, and curcumin.  And I have prayed, much, for God, the Great Physician, to heal my son.

She knows

I was cleaning up an old filing cabinet today, and discovered all sorts of treasures.  Letters from my mom, my Gran, and my mother-in-law.  Cards expressing love.  Drawings and notes from my children.  Special cards from Rick that I tucked away to read again some day.

One of the notes was from a friend, Barb, with whom I taught a Sunday School class of teen-aged young women.  She wrote to express her love for me, and her gratefulness that the Lord brought us together.  Then she went on, "I've been thinking of the majesty of salvation - the thought of being "chosen".  In the book I've been reading, the author mentions how warfare is usually carried on in the home, where our guards are more easily let down."

Isn't it true?  Our guards are down when we're home.  We are more comfortable, so we let our true selves show.  Sometimes that's just not pretty.

Barb went on to share a picture of Christ standing in front of us when the arrows of danger come at us.  He is there to protect us.  He is our Commander, and He's in constant communication with us.  Earthly soldiers depend on transmitters which can be intercepted by the enemy, but our communication with Jesus is never interrupted.  

Barb wrote, "It made me realize afresh how little I call on Him at the point of confrontation."

Isn't it true?  When the toast is burnt, and the phone is ringing off the hook, and the teenager is stuck in the driveway, and the water is dripping from the ceiling, it's so very easy for a mom to come unglued.  When she opens her mouth to speak, the first words through her lips should be, "Jesus, Help!"

And He will.  He knows.  

We can have close fellowship with our Commander and King, for He is more than that.  He is our Friend, a very present help in time of trouble.  He is always prepared to help, and always willing to listen.  One day, I will see Him face-to-face, and I will know much more than the glimpse I know now.

But Barb knows.  She went to be with the Lord a couple of years ago.  

The Little Things

I am sitting here, cleaning off my desk, organizing more, wondering if it will EVER be done.   The renovation project is nearing the end, and I am in the very last stages.  I am labelling drawers and closets, sorting papers, creating a space for scrapbooking and art, finances and education.  As I work, I ponder the blessing that this room is to our family.  

Not only was it built by our very own hands, but my husband designed it.  This GREAT room serves as a family room, a classroom, an art workshop, a sewing room, and a communication centre.  We are connected here - to one another through our family times, and to the world through the internet.  

It's a bright space, with eleven windows.  It's an airy space, with a cathedral ceiling.  Yet it's a cosy space, with warm dark brown flooring, and couches that invite you to curl up and read.  

I love this room, and the family that built it.  I love looking at the painted walls, the trimmed ceilngs, the new laminate flooring, and thinking about all of the little details that went into the renovations.

Today, after Linda wrote her blog, she called me over to read it.  I sat down at her computer, and the pain in my neck warned me that I couldn't stay in that position for long.  I stood, and read, and as I finished, I marvelled that my desk is 2 and a half inches shorter than Linda's, and that makes all the difference.

When Daniel built my desk, he built the desktop to fit onto my existing drawers, from a rather short old desk I had.  It fits me perfectly, and the placement of my monitor is just right.  I can look at the monitor without hurting my neck.

He built the kids' desks approximately 2.5 inches higher.  They're just the right height for my tall children - but just a bit too high for me.  This wasn't planned, by Daniel, or any of us.  But God, Who is rich in mercy, took care of that little detail.  He guided my son as he sawed and drilled and screwed the desks in place.  And He ordained that my desk would be at the perfect height for me.

The little things matter.  God blesses us in the work we do.

  Deut. 2:7 For the Lord your God has blessed you in all the work of your hands. 

Over 8,000 steps today!

I am supposed to be working my way up, and today's steps were to be 7,500.   But here it is, late in the day, and I've already done 8,087 steps.  

Doc K, my family doctor, said I should shoot for 10,000, which I will do, the week after next.  I figure if I can keep it at 8,000 for this week, and 9,000 next week, I'll be doing good.

Now if I could only talk Rick into walking with me.  It's comforting to me that God sees my steps.  He knows my heart.  He delights in my way and walks with me.   Good to know.

Job 31:4  Does not he see my ways and number all my steps?

Job 34:21 “For his eyes are on the ways of a man, and he sees all his steps.

Psalm 37:23 The steps of a man are established by the Lord, when he delights in his way;

Belgium & The UN Convention on the Rights of a Child

A dystopian future is one where the social problems of today become greater in magnitude, producing a future that is filled with crime, war, and similar evils.

Today I read with horror a report about Belgian control of society.  In order to produce a society that is healthy and vibrant, medical doctors have committed murder, calling it assisted suicide.  Assisted suicide is bad enough when it is the suicide of a grown person who is somewhat rational and aware and able to make an informed decision.  Many advocates have clearly taught that suicide is not the answer, because the despair of dealing with illness or disability often passes, and afflicted people often live contented and fulfilled lives.  It ought to make you shudder with horror upon horror when you realize that the people the Belgians are supposedly assisting are less than a year old.  

Big Brother is watching, and making all of the decisions.  He has decided that hand-made clothing is dangerous, so it must be banned (see sidebar, at top left).  He has decided that life with disabilities is not worth living, so he kills and destroys.  He has decided that parents cannot choose curriculum with wisdom, so he has decreed.  And the people are so busy playing with their toys that they have not even noticed the curtailment of certain inalienable rights.

When I was a teenager, I read Animal Farm, 1984, and Brave New World.  The authors, George Orwell and Aldous Huxley, had contrasting views of the future:

Social critic Neil Postman contrasts the worlds of 1984 and Brave New World in the foreword of his 1985 book Amusing Ourselves to Death. He writes:

What Orwell feared were those who would ban books. What Huxley feared was that there would be no reason to ban a book, for there would be no one who wanted to read one. Orwell feared those who would deprive us of information. Huxley feared those who would give us so much that we would be reduced to passivity and egoism. Orwell feared that the truth would be concealed from us. Huxley feared the truth would be drowned in a sea of irrelevance. Orwell feared we would become a captive culture. Huxley feared we would become a trivial culture, preoccupied with some equivalent of the feelies, the orgy porgy, and the centrifugal bumblepuppy. As Huxley remarked in Brave New World Revisited, the civil libertarians and rationalists who are ever on the alert to oppose tyranny "failed to take into account man's almost infinite appetite for distractions." In 1984, Orwell added, people are controlled by inflicting pain. In Brave New World, they are controlled by inflicting pleasure. In short, Orwell feared that what we fear will ruin us. Huxley feared that what we desire will ruin us.

My fear is that both men were right.  In our search for pleasure and our desire to control, we have allowed leaders to make laws to protect us.  We do not want to take responsibility for our own actions, preferring to blame the government if things go wrong.  Our fear that life might not be full of pleasure has ruined us.  We have lost the ability to think, to discern, to judge correctly.  Scary.

Woe unto those who call good evil, and evil good.

Granny Miller

One of my favourite web-Grannies is Granny Miller (not her real name).  She lives a simple and deliberate agrarian lifestyle in rural Pennsylvania.  She writes with wisdom and knowledge, and takes great pictures to go along with her advice.

I've subscribed to her blog, and look forward to her posts.  She's written about her animals, about canning and freezing, about gardening, and about her wonderful companion dog, Riko, who died recently.  

Her blog is well worth the visit.  Pay special attention to her "Ask Granny" posts, located in the sidebar.