McDonnell Place

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

and the compassion award goes to...

This morning before breakfast was even on the table, I found myself dry-heaving. Over and over and over and over again. The kids didn't notice until they needed something and I wasn't responding. Evan was the first to become concerned. "Mommy? Mommy? Say something, mommy!"

I lifted my face from the aluminum sink long enough to spit out, "I'm okay, Evan," then back below.

Soon Madalyn was aware that something was up and came to stand at my feet, "Mama? Mama? Mama! Mama! Mama, mama!"

And when I recovered and squatted down to hug her in assurance, she buried her tormented face in my shirt with relief. This proves her much more empathetically-advanced than Evan was at her age. When he was her pint-size and I was heaving over the toilet with Madalyn in my stomach, he began to mimic the throwing-up sounds, marching in circles on the bathroom tile like a drum major leading his marching band in a parade- "Uu-ah! Uu-ah! Uuh! Uuh!"

I promise, it's always a shock and more than a little bit humorous to hear an 18-month-old making fun of you.

I realize after all my posts about stomach-upset, you might get the impression I'm very ill. I'm not. I just gag easily. I think two weeks ago, when my mom had to swoop in to the rescue, I had a bug. It hasn't been that bad since that one night. Now it's like the other pregnancies. And I've even had the pleasure of gagging as I walked past a mirror in our house so that I glimpsed a brief view of my monstrous reflexes in all their splendor. And then I even laughed because I thought of my friend Annika gagging in the produce aisle at the grocery store when she was pregnant with Jack. Can't imagine any shoppers felt like fresh produce after viewing that. Apparently, pregnancy hormones soften your digestive tissues and even your esophagus. Isn't the human body fascinating?

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Passion and Purity

The confusion that followed my earnest prayers is not surprising to me now. If there is an Enemy of Souls (and I have not the slightest doubt that there is,) one of the things he cannot abide is the desire for purity. Hence, a man or woman’s passions become his battleground. The Lover of Souls does not prevent this. I was perplexed because it seemed to me He should prevent it, but He doesn’t. He wants us to learn to use our weapons.

4The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. 5We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ. (2 Cor. 10)

I was very cautious about what I put in the journals. I don’t think it was because I feared someone else would discover my secrets. I think I was afraid to articulate, even for myself, feelings I might have to get rid of. Better to stick to what God was saying to me than what my heart was saying. It seemed the safer course. I do not repudiate it now. The only way to build a house on the rock is to hear the Word (I couldn’t have heard it if all I listened to was my feelings.)

9 The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it? (Jer.17)

46Why do you keep on saying that I am your Lord, when you refuse to do what I say? 47Anyone who comes and listens to me and obeys me 48is like someone who dug down deep and built a house on solid rock. When the flood came and the river rushed against the house, it was built so well that it didn't even shake. 49But anyone who hears what I say and doesn't obey me is like someone whose house wasn't built on solid rock. As soon as the river rushed against that house, it was smashed to pieces! (Matt. 7)

(The above quotations that are not Scripture are excerpts from Elisabeth Elliot's "Passion and Purity".)

Saturday, November 26, 2005

A Florida Thanksgiving

look at that thing roll!

smashing pumpkins

wild Fern, wild hair

no Southern front porch is complete without one...

"NOSE"

pumpkin bread

The new way to clean up toys

Marshmallow queen

a BUSY kitchen

"NOSE"

girls in thought

our furry family members...

Making bubbles with Uncle John

TRUE EXCITEMENT

Bubble Boy

Doug and Molly

John, Mom, and me

Uncle Tom and Aunt Meredith

Leanne and Scottie

Friday, November 25, 2005

Are We There Yet?

The ride to Ocala was challenging, to say the least. Shaun followed me in our other car, which means I was on my own as far as keeping the kids fed and happy while driving. When we sat in the drive-thru at McDonald's, Evan kept yelling- yes YELLING- at me to "drive, mommy, DRIVE!" After so many times of nicely telling him we had to wait our turn and he couldn't talk to me like that, I finally snapped. Whipping my head around with a deadly, level gaze I said, "Evan, daddy's in front of us! Do you want me to hit daddy?" (No, he didn't.)

I'd also like to inform you that it's no low-level stunt to twist one arm to the carseat behind you while driving with the other, in order to pass a chicken nugget into tiny, grasping hands. Not to mention, Madalyn kept getting her cup stuck between herself and her carseat and insisting, "off, off, off," until I began to think maybe someone had replaced her with a German kid back when I was placing our order at the drive-thru.

And the radio wasn't offering much of a distraction. One woman dj on the radio reminded me of a Saturday Night Live skit, as she coaxed her listeners that whether they were making cookies or mince meat pie, she hoped they could just relax and enjoy the music, in a soft and sappy voice. And I MUST know- who makes mince meat pie? (Shiver.) It was apparent when were slowly entering Ocala's surrounding vicinity not only in the number of pick-up trucks and cowboy hats accompanying us on the road, but also in the way that the dj voices got twangier and slangier on the stations. But quite frankly, that was a refreshing change from the woman who spoke poems over mince meat pie.

The best moment of the drive (and yes, there actually was one,) happened long before we reached Ocala, when we drove onto a small road in the middle of farmland, under a big, starry sky through open fields. Evan shouted with excitement, "Look, mommy, are you ready? Look, look, we're going way up into the stars! Here we go!" Not long after this he fell asleep and I was worried he'd choked on a french fry. When I heard him snoring a soft, wheezy snore, I relaxed and settled into my seat a bit.

And now that I have time to sit and ramble on about all of this, as so often happens, it makes me think on bigger things. Surely God must feel like I did that drive. All the whining, all the drive God, DRIVE 's and off! off! off 's. All the more, more, more 's...but for me, when I was the one in the driver's seat, just hearing Evan's excitement over the starry ride and the Christmas lights we passed in Eustis made it all worth it; to be able to give him that. I only wish that I made the ride more "worth it" for God, with far fewer are we there yet 's and drive, DRIVE's. Don't you?

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

A Friend's Story of Thanks

James "RevShark" DePorre is a professional stock trader who lives in Anna Maria, FL. He writes the "Trading Diary" for TheStreet.com and also runs a financial service for stock traders. I have gotten to know him pretty well the past few months and today he shared his story of thanks with a few people. Here it is:

What I'm Thankful For
11/23/2005 11:57 AM EST

Many have read my story in the past, but it is what Thanksgiving means to me, and I think it is worth repeating.

One summer day about 15 years ago, I was sitting in my law office in Ann Arbor, Mich., talking on the phone with an IRS agent. My client was involved in a questionable tax shelter, and I was trying to limit the damage.

As the conversation proceeded, I started having great difficulty understanding what the agent was saying. She was speaking loudly enough and very clearly, the phone was working properly and my office was quiet. The problem was that I was going deaf.

I had suffered from minor hearing loss since childhood, but suddenly it was becoming a major struggle to hear. In a matter of months, I was totally incapable of talking on the phone, and eventually I was reduced to communicating with others by written note. No hearing aid or surgery could cure my problems.

A lawyer who is incapable of using a phone and conversing with clients is like a thief without a gun. It is impossible to do a good job. I was forced to give up my law practice, closed several fledging business enterprises and lost most of my assets. Luckily, I had a small disability insurance policy through the state bar association that provided a little income. I was lost, depressed, and after a divorce felt very isolated and alone. I had absolutely no idea what I was going to do with my life. I was well educated, intelligent and had excellent experience, but I couldn't hold the simplest job if it required being able to hear.

While I struggled trying to figure out what I was going do, I started playing around with some of the new online services that were becoming available. I stumbled across a little online community on a service called Prodigy, where people discussed the stock market. I've dabbled in investments, and my interest was piqued by the discussions. Frankly, it was nice just to be able to talk with people on the computer and not to worry about my inability to hear.
I become increasingly active on the stock boards and in the market with my small stake. Because I couldn't hear on the phone, I would drive over to a broker's office and hand him a written note with the trades I wanted to make. I had mixed success at first but I was intrigued by the possibilities and continued to learn what worked and explore various approaches.

Emotional Rescue

Eventually, the first online brokerage firms opened up and I was able to buy and sell stocks quickly and easily. The technology was quite rudimentary back then, with slow dial-up modems, delayed quotes and limited news and data. But I soon discovered that the way to make money in the market was to focus on emotions and psychology, not balance sheets and P/E ratios.

I didn't make much progress at first, but as I learned how the market worked, things began to come together. I started knocking out a steady stream of good trades. Soon my initial stake of less than $50,000 had doubled and tripled. The more success I had, the harder I worked at it, and soon my life was consumed by the stock market. I posted my thoughts and comments on stock boards, and to my surprise, a number of folks were interested in what I had to say.
I continued to learn and refine my trading and investing skills and was increasingly comfortable as we entered the boom years of the late 1990s. My accounts had now grown into the seven figures and I was earning many multiples of what I would have made as a successful attorney. Not only had I found a lucrative job, but I greatly enjoyed what I was doing. The bubble years were ideal for my trading methods, and the profits continued to roll in. But what really helped me was that I learned quickly that it was important to protect profits. When the bubble burst, I did very well in maintaining my profits and learned how to make money in a more difficult environment.

My personal life also had taken a turn for the better. I met a sweet, attractive woman who lived near my parents' vacation home in Florida. She was willing to learn some rudimentary sign language so she could communicate with me. We were eventually married and now have a 4-year-old daughter and a son who will be 1 year old in February.

To make things even brighter, a new development called a cochlear implant had become available to me. About six years ago, I had the surgery and it greatly restored my hearing. It isn't perfect, but I can carry on conversations and function normally in most situations.

On this Thanksgiving, I will once again give thanks for how a great personal tragedy turned out to be wonderful blessing in disguise. If I had not lost my hearing, I probably would have never discovered the world of the stock market. Because I become deaf I have made far more money than I ever imagined, greatly enjoy what I do and have a wonderful family to share it with.

No matter how bad your problems may be or how bleak your life may feel, it truly is amazing how well things can eventually work out. I never thought it possible that I would be so lucky, but it happened and it can happen to you too if you stay positive and don't give up.

Giving Thanks

Usually, I'm fantasizing about moist turkey and wet gravy, cornbread dressing, perfectly-mashed potatoes, tender green beans, and a thick slice of pumpkin pie with REAL whipped cream right about now. But instead, I'm sitting here wondering if I'll have the same experience I had the Thanksgiving I was newly pregnant with Madalyn.

We spent that Thanksgiving in Gainesville with my dad's side of the family. My grandmother is an amazing cook. I realize lots of grandmothers are amazing cooks, but this woman makes sugar cookies that literally melt on your tongue, and can glaze them with tinted powdered sugar frostings in Martha Stewart fashion. Her turkey is always moist, her gravy, flavor-bursting- her mashed potatoes make you want to cry tears of joy right into her perfectly pressed table linens. So it came as a real shock that year when I lifted a fork of cornbread dressing to my mouth and soon thought I'd bit into a salt shaker. I tried again with a little turkey and still- no good. Oh well. I would have leftovers at my mom's later that week was all...but how sad that my grandmother's greatest gift was actually beginning to fade with her age...

Then later that week came, along with mom's leftovers- also terrible. And then it was why God, why? Of all the foods I had to have a weird pregnancy aversion to, WHY the dressing?! YOU KNOW how I love the dressing!

So this year, as our bags are packed and waiting by the front door until Shaun gets home, and as visions of sleeping-in and leaving the monitors in my mother's room dance in my head- as I imagine having a date night with Shaun, my mother cooking and doing our laundry and cleaning up after MY CHILDREN- I'm trying not to get my hopes up about enjoying the holiday feasting. Instead, I'll count all these blessings worth giving thanks over- for there are so many- and the feasting will have to wait until next year, (and then I'll double-up to make up for lost time.) But for now, seeing "Pride and Prejudice" WHILE IT'S STILL ON THE BIG SCREEN (gasp!) will have to suffice in feasting's place...and if the flick's as good as it looks in the previews, and if Hollywood didn't ruin what Jane Austen perfected, it just might...

Have a Great Thanksgiving all of you- and savor that cornbread dressing!

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

More Who Pictures From Whosville

Monday, November 21, 2005

He's Out of Control

In the mornings and during naptimes, Evan used to never touch his bedroom doorknob until we appeared first. That ended this week.

Part of me knows it couldn't have lasted forever and then another part of me wonders exactly how many confrontations would have to occurr to forever enforce this wonderful set-up. In the mornings it's especially hard, because he at least waits patiently until it's nice and bright and then runs into our room and announces it's light outside, it's morning, are you up, are you up, mommy...are you up, up, up... and he's so delightful, such an obvious morning person at this point in his young life, that it would seem a shame to break his spirit. On the other hand, naptime is now becoming quite draining...

Saturday, for example, when we heard him out of bed we flipped for who would have to handle the situation. I lost.

It stunk, too, because he was told if he got out of bed, no putt putt golf as we'd planned on. On a side-note, he has these books about a frog- Froggy Gets a Sister, Froggy goes to the Doctor, Froggy Gets Dressed, Froggy's First Kiss, Froggy Hits Puberty, (as Shaun added)... and there is one where the frog plays putt putt with his dad- well Evan blew that offer without a second thought, and I found him standing in his bedroom, door wide-open, holding a wet, pink Dum Dum between his fingers like a cigarette.

Where did you get that?

From the banana bowl.

But you can't reach the banana bowl...(No answer.)

Evan, you can't just have a lollipop whenever you want one.

Nooo, I neeeed this lollipop.

Before turning out of his bedroom to investigate, I noticed a ceramic coffee mug on his bedside table. That may not sound out of the ordinary to you- but for me it's like one of those picture book challenges you did when you were little: which of these objects does not belong? And sure enough, leaving his room, I stepped over a cold gallon of milk lying on its side in the foyer and wondered how I didn't even notice it on the way in, as I sleep-walked to discipline from the comfort of my bed. The chair pushed up to the kitchen counter explained how he found the lollipop, and putting the clues together, I realized he'd also tried to pour himself a mug of cold milk but couldn't get the cap off- thank heavens. This, along with the fact that there are many a mornings we can't find Madalyn beneath all the stuffed animals he's dumped into her bed before we get to her, means something will have to be done. So you see, our problem is two-fold; he needs both a new discipline technique, and a support group for lollipop-addicts. Forget the anonymous-factor, (as I've already given him up publically here.)

Saturday, November 19, 2005

A Flaw in the Matrix

Yesterday I developed a twitch in my lower left eyelid. Don't you hate that? Well I used to, anyway- but I'm starting to develop a sense of humor. Let's face it, ever since the garden incident back when time began, our bodies have had a tendency to malfunction about as much as my mother's computer. (This is A LOT.) So last night while the kids took their bath and I stared at my twitching lid in the bathroom mirror- and man, can that thing boogie- I got the strong sense that God was laughing at me...or at least grinning. This robotic twitching just has to be a practical joke He plays on us to make sure we're paying attention- and because He knows we need to lighten up and laugh at ourselves more often. For our health. (Good for the blood pressure.) Yet on a more somber note, I'm led to think of Casting Crowns and Who am I...

Who am I
That the Lord of all the earth,
Would care to know my name,
Would care to feel my hurt,

Who am I
That the Bright and Morning Star,
Would choose to light the way,
For my ever wandering heart,

Not because of who I am,
But because of what You've done,
Not because of what I've done,
But because of who You are,

I am a flower quickly fading,
Here today and gone tomorrow,
A wave tossed in the ocean,
A vapor in the wind,
Still You hear me when I'm calling,
Lord, You catch me when I'm falling,
And You've told me who I am.. I am Yours.

Who am I
That the eyes that see my sin,
Would look on me with love,
and watch me rise again,

Who am I
That the voice that calmed the sea,