Seed Pearls

It’s “The Girl” upon invitation to be a “Guest Blogger” for Consider Brenda (“The Mama” to me :-) ).  The Husband was off work yesterday, so I took the day off to spend with him working in Baby Girl’s nursery.  The Mama, being the great The Mama and The Future Gramma that she is, had come to help us with some décor.  While she was there, I shared a story with her that she wanted me to share with you all, and it is my pleasure to do so.  :)

Like every story, there’s always a back story that goes with it.  I am not going to share all of the details of the back story right now (maybe I’m asking for a future Guest Blogger invite… just kidding!), but I’ll give you a little bit.  As you probably know by now, I was diagnosed with Type I diabetes about 25 years ago.  You know, right after the invention of the wheel (and thankfully the discovery of insulin) and just before The Rachel haircut and Beanie Babies became “things”.  In my high school years, I made the massive mistake of watching my least favorite movie of all time.  Steel Magnolias.  I’d rather watch every Nightmare on Elm Street movie ever made than to watch that one again.  So, with that movie, my fear of having children began.  I love children.  Always have.  The outcome of that movie (“based on a true story”, of course) just scared me from the top of my ponytail to the toes of my Timberlands. 

Anyway, fast forward to 2010, when I met this guy who I decided I might just want to marry.  In May of 2012, I did.  The thoughts on having children – while still scary – pushed further and further up in my mind.   My endocrinologist told me that, before I could even think about it, I had to get my blood sugars down.  Way down.  Like, all the time.  Here’s where I’ll leave some gaps in my story, but I had this goal of getting a certain measurement of average glucose fructosamine reading below 335 before he would let me even consider trying to have kids.  I was nowhere near that, but I started working on it.  For silly, personal reasons, it was hard for me.  Really hard.  I saw improvement, which was encouraging, but never seemed to be able to get “there”.  I remember telling the Lord that I knew I couldn’t do it on my own, and that He was going to have to help me.  (Probably should’ve realized that sooner, huh?)  Anyway, around that time, I remember The Mama sharing a story with me one morning on my drive to work from one of her favorite movies that she’d just watched again.  Now, honestly, I don’t think she was trying to tell me to encourage me about my blood sugar control.  We hadn’t even talked about trying to have children.  (Our families were very good not to push about grandbabies.)  It could have been to encourage me on some other difficulty at that time, or just as a general “wow, this is a good story.”   The story went kind of like this…

The movie was set maybe in the 1800s, and the main character, Christy, was lost out in a storm.  She was supposed to be getting married soon, and her two friends, Miss  Alice and Ruby Mae (don't you love the names?)  were very worried about her.  Miss Alice, the elder of the two friends, encouraged Ruby Mae to perform an act of faith by sewing tiny seed pearls onto Christy’s wedding dress so that it would be ready for her when she returned home.  So, Ruby Mae did.  Christy, of course, makes it safely home and does get married (although to someone different than originally intended.  We’ll forget that part :-)).

So, the very day I heard the story – probably about 2 years ago - I took myself to the Family Christian bookstore on my lunch hour and sewed my own seed pearl by buying a stuffed lamb that played Jesus Loves Me.  I took it home and shared the story and purchase with The Husband, and we prayed and believed that, some day, somehow, it would belong to our child.  Maybe a biological child, maybe an adopted child… we didn’t know.  But we believed (most days, The Husband more than me).  The Lord is faithful, as He always is, as yesterday, we set it out in Baby Girl’s nursery (see below… isn’t it cute?)  I’m not saying my faith never waivered, because it did, many times.  And still does sometimes as Baby Girl gets closer to preparing to make her arrival.  But praise the Lord, He loves me and blesses me anyway.

Like any good Paul Harvey-esque story, there’s more.  Before yesterday, no one knew about the lamb and its meaning besides The Husband and me.  But…guess what both The Nana (The Husband’s mom) and The Gramma gave to Sweet Caroline for Christmas? 

So, as you can see, Caroline has three lambs… a holy number, as a sweet friend from church would say (shout out to you, Kristie!)… all that play Jesus Loves Me… all that will remind me throughout the years of God’s faithfulness to me and my family and how much The Lamb loves us.

Oh, and that level that I had to get under 335 and didn’t think I’d ever get it there?  When it was checked last month, it came in at 245 ;0).  Nothing is impossible with God!

“…without faith it is impossible to please him: for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him.”  Hebrews 11:6

THE CROSSING OF PATHS

Today I found myself considering life.  Now that's a leading kind of statement, huh?  I'm betting you are waiting for some huge philosophical lesson in this post.   I will go ahead and apologize for disappointing you.

Lately I have thought much about people.  Not just any people but people who have crossed my path at various times in my life and made a difference to me in my past years.

Sure, there are those who I've known for what seems like forever and still are very close and dear and near.  Was it a song or a poem or just a saying that once said, "Make new friends but keep the old, one is silver, the other gold."  My mind remembers that from somewhere...from where, I can't say.  Bet no one is surprised at my lack of remembering, huh?

I was reminded of the blessing just today of those who I have "met" in my work life.  There are those whom we have had serving us as a company for years and years and years and my work would be very hard to change any of these folks who have become friends....accountants, insurance people, you get the idea.  They are "my" folks now and I appreciate them and think of how my life is better, not only in my work, but in the way they have become personal friends.  Friends who care and whom I care about in return.  And that might never have happened if our paths hadn't crossed.

I think of school friends who I never see anymore but who stay in my memory--okay, admittedly maybe their faces more than their names now.  Paths meander in different directions as life comes and goes and folks that we may never see again still impact our lives.

There are teachers, parents of The Girl's friends, lifelong friends from activities done together, church folks, and just simply strangers who passed my way.

Just this past weekend, The Sister, The Mother, The Daddy, and I visited a funeral home for a family of a loved one who had meant so much to us years ago.  I can remember visiting their home with their three girls and having such fun.  I was reminded that I got the very worst blistering of the soles of my feet at their house on a hot day.  They lived in a subdivision which in my world was big time stuff so visiting them and spending the night was a true treat.  They would go barefoot.  Everywhere while playing.  And they played hard.  My feet were tender.  Really tender but I didn't want to be the wimp so I went barefoot too.  Did I say it was one of the hottest days of the year?  We walked barefoot on that subdivision road for a very long time so that by night, I had blisters on the soles of my tender feet.  OUCH!   Shoes hurt after that.  Yes I remember that well but I also remember that when I visited their house, I always felt their love for each other and for me.  I was delighted to see them all but sad of the passing of the sweet mother.  Such a dear one.  My life was better for knowing them.

There have been people I have met one time that I was encouraged by or cheered and they had no idea.

The list could go on and on.  Many or all of you reading this blog can be assured that somehow you have most likely touched my life and made it better.  Has all of life been warm and fuzzy?  Shucks, no, I think not.  Life is life and offers the good with the bad.  I like to think, though, that the big God above dictates all that and I know He has life in His hands.

I, of course, am reminded of one of my favorite verses that gives me assurance....Romans 8:28....and you know probably that it goes like this but bears repeating often:

"And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose."

So yes, I am counting the blessings today.  Blessings of you...and you...and you....and you....."my" people.  :)

:)

ONE WEEK DOWN

I was going to begin this blog by saying how fast time flies but I think that subject has been addressed more than it should lately.  Agreed?  Agreed.  But it really does fly, doesn't it?  :)

Many inquiring (or is it enquiring?) minds have been asking for the scoop on the broken finger.  It was really a simple normal smash.  On the particular morning of the smash, I was preparing to go to town to take a medical sample to my doctor's office for diagnosis.  My thought process was that I might stop at the new neighborhood food/paper goods/ everything else warehouse on the way home.

Well, being as it was a ridiculously hot day for December, I thought I should take a cooler with one of my ice jugs with me in case I bought something perishable and then didn't get home soon.  Now keep in mind that I do this all the time in the summer for safety with food.  Uh huh.  I got my regular collapsible cooler down and realized I had transported something yucky in it and not noticed that the yuck was still there.  And being as The Husband has many, many, many coolers available, I thought I would just take one of his hard plastic formed ones.

As I usually do, I put that cooler in my car trunk vertically rather than horizontally as the trunk is.  I have a large trunk but I also have a lot of "stuff" I need in it...important stuff like those recycle grocery bags (I have a ton of those with different designs and I use them and remember to take them in with me.), a couple bottles of water, gloves, umbrellas, and even jumper cables so it takes a lot of space for the "stuff".  Hence the vertical placement of the cooler.

Not thinking smartly, I realized I had not put the ice jugs in nor had I looked at the cleanliness of this particular cooler.  Instead of realizing that the cooler top was near the hinged portion of the trunk and that the ice jugs wouldn't fit with the cooler that way, I grasped the indention on the cooler top and tried to open it.  It wouldn't open.  Stuck.  So without thinking further, I tried again more mightily.  Yes, it opened and smashed my little finger between that cooler lid and the hinged metal part of my trunk.

I hollered.  I cried.  I hollered.  I cried.  I dropped to my knees and I hollered and cried.  God was the only one to hear me so I kept crying and told myself I had only mashed my finger.  I would probably bruise and loose my fingernail (how's that for a rhyme?  Bruise and loose...and I didn't even try to rhyme.)   I wasn't vain.  It would be all right.  It happened every day to someone.  I must have cried heartily for a good 6.5 minutes before just constantly sniffling.  The finger looked slightly swollen but it had been smashed.  Heartily.  Mightily.

My shopping desire left me so I took the cooler out of the trunk.  It was heavy on my injured hand.  I went to the doctor's to leave my medical sample.  The doctor was 20 minutes away...my eyes were still red from crying.  I left it with the receptionist and came back home.  By afternoon, bruising and swelling had started so I called to see about an appointment.  The receptionist and I decided I would come in the morning if not better.

The Husband was helpful to me as we realized it felt less pain when straight so we made a splint from popsicle sticks.  (I should put that on Pintrest.)  By morning it was obvious I did need a doctor.  Her first words after looking and finding out I had done it the day before were, "Why didn't you come yesterday?"  I told her that my red crying eyes and I had but only to bring the medical sample.  She did her eyeroll....she had already done another eyeroll when I removed my I-should-put-on-Pintrest-popsicle-splint.

I left that office and went for an xray to return back to office afterwards.  I had told myself that maybe this was one of the times in the 3% of the time my doctor is wrong that she was wrong.  I had already decided it was bruised, not broken.  I was wrong.  My wise doctor's words were "Of course I knew it was broken...otherwise I wouldn't have sent you for the xray."  Duh.  The joint nearest the nail is broken and the tendon is detached.  The remedy is this splint for 6 weeks.  Uh, only 5 weeks now....one week down.  If I remove the splint and bend my finger, we start all over again.

It's inconvenient but the worst part was trying to wash my hair with a sandwich bag on my hand.  I've figured out how to make two plastic gloves and a small zippered jewelry bag work for hair washing so life is much better.  As is the hair.  Believe me it didn't look very good.

The finger does hurt a bit when I put my arm through my coat jacket or if I hit it against something so I try to be careful.

So that's it, folks....now you know the rest of the story......