Making Radical Changes to Meet Radical Issues

Over the years i’ve become more and more of what i like to call “a mindful shopper.” It started years ago when Emily was just a tot, buying organic food as much as i could afford, using butter instead of margarine or spread, buying locally made bread instead of the fluff-stuff from the grocery store. Then it was trying to avoid GMOs, so that meant either buying organic or at least choosing the brands that were specifically labeled “non-gmo.” Then i found out so much of our chocolate (and other food) is made by child and/or slave labor, so i started shopping with that issue in mind. At about the same time, there were reports coming out that companies like Starbucks and Kraft (under the Senomyx company) were using aborted fetal tissue in their research & development, so we started boycotting those companies. (It wasn’t long before i read an article that said Starbucks had cut the ties with Senomyx, so i went back to patronizing them. Guess i was wrong.) So, while still trying to live on a very limited budget, i did what i could to make sure i was feeding and supplying my family with products that were healthy as well as not adding to the oppression of others around the world.

Last week i made the statement that i couldn’t understand what all the frenzy was about concerning this latest revelation that Planned Parenthood has been selling dead baby parts to a number of companies, because i couldn’t get past the knowledge that the babies are being murdered in the first place. I’m sure i inadvertently gave the impression that i didn’t care about what was being done with these babies after they are mercilessly and brutally ripped from their mother’s womb and and then dismembered and shipped off to be done who-knows-what with (seriously, do we really know the full extent to which they use the dead baby parts?).

In fact, i have been in shock and unable to get this off my mind. I stated in my post that i would be referring to the list of 38 (or 40, or 41, or 77, whichever it is) companies that support PP. Indeed, that very day and the next couple of days i discovered that many of my family’s personal care and household products are, in fact, made by these very companies that support PP. Unilever makes our Tresemme hair gel & mousse and our Caress & Dove body washes. Johnson & Johnson makes my Aveeno cleanser, moisturizer and shampoo. I never buy anything but Charmin bath tissue, but yesterday i discovered that Charmin is made by Proctor & Gamble. 

So a few days ago i went to Ulta, a major beauty supply chain store, to see what more ethical options there were. It was nothing but deflating and discouraging. I was focused that day on just finding a new face cleanser because i was nearly out, and almost every cleanser brand i picked up was made by Unilever or Johnson & Johnson. Even Burt”s Bees - ah, surely Burt”s Bees will be safe - is a subsidiary of Clorox (also on the list of PP donors)! 

So my point in all this is, i am astounded and overwhelmed how wide-spread and far-reaching these PP “business” practices are. And being the sort of analyzer who naturally looks at the big picture, i’ve spent a lot of time trying to figure out how we got here, as a nation, a society, where we can’t even buy normal everyday, non-hoity-toity products from companies without indirectly supporting an organization that murders babies and then sells their body parts. How did we get to this place? No doubt there are many factors, but the one i keep coming back to is that we as a society are too materialistic, consumeristic, greedy, self-indulgent. I know the same could be said for every society since the beginning of time and that’s true, but seriously? Has there ever been a time in history comparable to today? Can you seriously and honestly look at where we are today and say that it’s the same as always? A culture or society or generation where nearly every single person has such an extreme sense of entitlement? 

We want things at the cheapest price possible so that we can have as many things as possible.

How often do we go to whatever store and see things that are new or on sale or clearance and just buy them without thinking about where they came from or what went into making them. 

We’ve got to change that mentality. What does it take to get by? What is the minimum? For instance, do i really need to have 5000 recipes in 50 different cookbooks and magazines in order to adequately feed my family of 4? Because my habit is to go through some of my favorite-but-not-used-very-often cookbooks looking for Great Ideas for Something Different, make my shopping list based upon said ideas, buy necessary ingredients, then after several days i can’t even remember what recipe i bought that wheat bran/oat bran/rice wine vinegar/red wine vinegar for.

There is already so much material written about our spending-storing-hoarding-wasting-polluting habits, so i’ll not waste much time addressing it except to say, this is where it’s gotten us. And it’s not just this latest issue with PP that’s at stake here. It’s the slave-trade industry, it’s GMOs, it’s so many other social issues. 

What i know is, until last week, i was a mindful shopper trying to make sure my dollars were being spent to bless and not oppress others, and now, after this revelation, i’m thinking that i’m just flat buying too much stuff. And our family doesn’t even buy nearly as much stuff as the average Western family because we’ve purposely tried to live simply, without accumulating much stuff, so we’d be ready to go whenever God called us to something else. We live in an apartment, by choice. Every single piece of furniture we own was a hand-me-down with the exception of my cedar chest, and that was my high school graduation present from my parents, made by my classmate, Steve Ball, as a project for his shop class. We also bought 3 pieces from a thrift store/consignment store/friend-of-a-friend; the rest were given to us. The majority of the clothes in our closets come from second-hand shops. And still, i am now thinking that we, our family, just need to radically put a plug on buying stuff.

I have no idea yet how i’m actually going to carry this out. For now it’ll be a little bit easier just because we happen to already be moving out of our apartment by the end of August. My plan already was to spend next week gathering every. single. thing. into one area - the living & dining area - sort it all into categories (decor, books, kitchen, etc.), figure out what i don’t have to have anymore and how to bless someone else with it (or throw it away if it’s not useable), then box and store what’s left till we get back from our trip. One thing i don’t want to do is get rid of something thinking that it’ll be easier to just replace it when we get moved. That’s defeating the goal of buying less stuff. But i also don’t want to have to move and store a whole bunch of stuff, so it’s tricky.

But here’s what i do know: something has to change. HUGE changes. We as a family cannot go on buying/accumulating/storing/moving/wasting/rinse & repeat all until we die. We can’t. There is now too much at stake. Unborn babies lives. Slave children’s lives. Oppressed women’s lives. The working poor’s lives. This is going to take lots of time to research and figure out, and time is something i don’t have much of right now with moving/getting Emily moved back to college/getting ready for our trip. But we need to start by buying fewer things. 

I’m hoping more people will do likewise. We need to wake up and affirm to the world that abortion is not ok. The abortion industry has got to go. And maybe you have other ideas for bucking the system. It’d be fun to share ideas of what’s working and what’s not. I would love to hear them.

Why We Choose Not to Vaccinate

I would guess that most people who have known us for any length of time know that we have 3 children, 1 of whom is in in the arms of Jesus. Many people know the majority of the story, and there are still a few of you reading this who actually walked through that season with us, and you may be thinking, "Huh? I didn't know Molly's death had ANYTHING to do with vaccinations."  There are very few who know about the association of Molly's death with immunizations, because we have rarely brought it up.  I guess just about the only time it's ever brought up anymore is when we have to start with a new doctor for our children, and invariably the doctor asks if our children are up to date on their shots.  Along with my "no" response i always say, "My children seem to be in that so-called 'low-risk' category of severe reactions."  When i explain that our first baby died following shots and Emily nearly died following shots, (so far) i have never had so much as a strange look, a rebuttal, a reprimand; the doctor thankfully moves on.

So if you're just getting to know us and have no idea who Molly is or even what the bare bones of the story is - Molly Beth was our first baby, born on May 9, 1994.  It was several hours before we learned that she had Down's Syndrome and A.V.Canal Defect, a common heart defect that is also very common to down's children.  We were told she'd need to have surgery at some later point, and were sent to AR Children's Hospital for a consultation a couple weeks later.  The surgery date would depend on how quickly she gained enough weight to withstand heart surgery.

On July 8 she had a heart catheterization, after which they reported that it was pretty much like they expected - a couple more little holes than they'd originally thought, but not a big deal - surgery expected to go well.  The date still wasn't set yet because she'd not yet gained enough weight.  A week later, on July 14, she had her 2-month shots as recommended by her pediatrician.  Two days later, on Saturday evening,  i was calling the doctor in a panic because, after crying in the backseat of the car for just a couple of minutes, she was soaked with sweat (a sign of heart failure).  He told me to bring her into the office first thing Monday morning, and surgery was set for September 1.

The heart cath on July 8 was the last major test they did on her before surgery.  The only thing that had been stressed to us repeatedly was that her recovery was likely to be a roller-coaster of ups and downs, that there was no way to predict how long it would take her to recover.  Not one medical professional indicated that there was anything unusual to be concerned about beyond the fact that open-heart surgery was being done on a not-quite-4-month-old-baby who weighed just barely over 9 lbs. "This surgery is done hundreds of times in this hospital every year; it's a very familiar surgery," one of the doctors told us.

On the morning of September 1, i sang "Jesus Loves Me" and the rest of my usual repertoire  to Molly, then Randall & i carried her as we were escorted down to the surgery area.  My friend, Diane, who worked at ACH, accompanied us as well.  We handed her over with tears, then went  to wait with the family in the surgery waiting room.  Someone from the surgery team called us after a while to let us know they had cut into her and started the surgery.

I don't remember the length of time we waited - i think it was only 2-3 hours - but at some point the anesthesiologist came to our waiting room to talk with us.  I instinctively knew this was not a good sign.  I remember looking around at everyone's faces in disbelief as i heard "there are more holes than we thought... her heart is like swiss cheese... there's no way to repair it... don't know how she survived this long... we'll have to close her up and put her on a heart-lung machine... 30% chance of survival".

I SO clearly remember wondering and asking, "What about all the tests that were done? Why did they not show this?"  All i got was the doctor shaking his head and saying he didn't know.

So, on September 8, after 1 week in the ECMO unit, showing no signs of improvement, her kidneys showing signs of shutting down, we were told she needed to be taken off.  One of the nurses put a bow in her hair, and they gave Randall and me a chance to hold her one more time (see photo of me holding her).  I finally handed her back and we had to wait outside the room while the surgical procedure was done to remove her from the ECMO unit.  She died immediately.

Fast forward now to 15 months later.  December 14, 1995, Emily Anne was 4 months old when i took her to the doctor to get her shots.  Five days later she and i were at home, she'd just awakened from a morning nap, and i picked her up and immediately started getting her ready to go, as i had plans of going to the mall.  I carried her around the house for a minute, not really looking at her face until i laid her down on the couch to put her snowsuit on.  I nearly collapsed at the sight of her.  She was "awake", but her lips were the color of death (remembering Molly).  I practically panicked; Randall and i had taken an infant CPR class when i was pregnant with her, but at least at that time, they didn't teach you what to do when your baby is "awake" but obviously not breathing right.  I couldn't even remember Randall's phone number to call him.  I called the ambulance, then remembered Randall's number.  It took until we got to the hospital before she began to stabilize.  They kept her overnight to run tests and monitor her.  The doctor called it a "near-miss with SIDS" (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome) and put her on a heart monitor for the next 6 months.

                                                 (*Note the wires from the heart monitor)

Fast forward again to approximately 1 year - 15 months later.  I stumbled onto a book about vaccinations, looked at the contents and saw a section on SIDS, wondered what on earth did vaccinations have to do with SIDS.  Literally, one day i had NO idea there was any controversy over vaccinations; the next i was weeping and grieving and angry over the insanity of what i was reading.  I already knew that Emily's near-miss had occurred so close to her 4-month shots.  I dug out Molly's shot record and discovered the undeniable time connection between her 2-month shots and when she first started experiencing heart failure.  I did not base my conclusions on just the one book; i read everything i could find.  I ordered all of Molly's medical records from Children's Hospital, the local hospital where she was born, and her pediatrician's office.

I must emphasize here at this point - nothing in any of the medical records indicate a connection between Molly's 2-month vaccinations and her death.  Her death certificate states the cause of death being "Complete A.V. Canal Defect/Trisomy 21."  There is nothing in Emily's medical records that ties her 4-month shots to the near-miss with SIDS 5 days later.  If Molly had NOT had the shots, would she have survived the surgery?  I don't know.  It's impossible to say. However, i CANNOT reconcile the discrepancy between the heart cath report and the actual surgery report, with shots and almost immediate signs of heart failure in between, PLUS Emily's experience. This is a matter of two children in the same family having fatal and near-fatal reactions to vaccinations.  Is it any wonder then that we've chosen to never do vaccinations again.  Emily has not had a single shot since i uncovered this...and Andrew has never had a single shot, at all.  And, i might add, Andrew has always been crazy healthy.

But i must also emphasize, why would there be indications in the medical records?  How many times has there ever been a connection made by the doctor between the vaccinations and the resulting calamity, without a fight?

I also must emphasize very strongly that i'm not trying to convince everyone that vaccinations should be eliminated/outlawed.  I'm sure they have their purpose (although there is a disclaimer to that below).  What i do believe is that every parent must, MUST be informed!  Do your research.  Think it through.  Pray about it. Decide what is best for your children.  If you decide that you'd rather risk the complications than risk the disease itself, then do it, and be at peace with it.  If your child suffers complications as a result of the vaccination, don't beat yourself up with guilt. Fortunately i never suffered guilt from giving Molly her vaccinations because i know i did it in complete ignorance.

But here's the flip side of the controversy, and the reason i chose to finally go public with our story.  Just because you've done your research and you believe your children should be immunized, DON'T criticize or judge ME because i choose NOT to.  Just yesterday i saw a conversation on facebook where one person was complaining about parents who send their children to school despite being sick, and another responded with a complaint about parents who don't get their children and themselves vaccinated. I cannot speak for everyone who refuses vaccines, but of the many people we know who refuse vaccines we are NOT irresponsible, we are NOT lazy, we are NOT idiots, we are NOT trying to be rebels.  These decisions have been made through education and prayer. Vaccinations are already pushed by the medical community; why do people think they have to campaign on facebook and other public forums for mass immunizations as well?

We do not believe there should ever be legislation taking away a parent's rights to choose what they believe is right for their children.  Randall & i have done our research, we have thought it through, and we have decided that we'd rather risk the disease than the vaccine.  Many people would argue that our unvaccinated children are putting their vaccinated children at risk.  This is something that didn't make sense to me even before i had children: if in your mind the vaccines are doing what they are supposed to be doing, then why are you worried about your child getting the disease?  Shouldn't it be my child who is more at risk? If your vaccinated child contracts the disease from my unvaccinated child, then what's the point in the vaccine...?

So by telling our story we hope to make more people aware that there is not only a hot controversy over, but that there is indeed a dark side, to immunizations.  I will not go into details about the dark side except to say, mercury... formaldehyde... Thimeroseal... tissue from aborted babies... Robert Kiyosaki says, "If you want to find the source of a problem, follow the money."

So realize that this is more than just an issue over parents being lazy, irresponsible, difficult, or stupid.  It's a full-blown can of worms, and when you open it you may just faint from the toxic smell.

A Multiplicity of Healings!

God has brought us such a long way in such a short time!  We are no longer living in the 5th wheel rv; we are in what may as well be a mansion to us - a beautiful 3-bedroom, 2 bath apartment!  Emily has her own room (with a door!), Andrew has his own room (with a door!), we have a washer and dryer IN our apartment, our puppy is back with us, our stuff is once again all in one location.  I LOVE OUR HOME!

We are still a one-car family, but our one car is now a NEW car (a slightly used new car), that runs so smoothly, and has air conditioning, and just enough room in the trunk for Randall's equipment.  He rushed right out and had his Okie Bugs logo put on it - looks great!  Makes him feel so much more professional.  Me - I'm just relieved to have air conditioning this summer!

The health problems i dealt with for 8 months are finally healed because i had surgery at the end of February.  I like to say that i finally have my life back; Randall likes to say he has his wife back.

We made it through the first year of a new business - ALL praises to the Lord! - and are looking forward to a busy busy bug season over the next 6 months.

On February 8 we also celebrated our 20th year of marital bliss, the same day we moved into our apartment.  So since we spent the whole day (actually several days) moving we really didn't get to "celebrate" in a way that i had always pictured celebrating a milestone like 20 years. But it's impossible for me to complain about that when i am married to a man who can stand by me with such patience and devotion during those health problems i mentioned above.  I simply don't know why God gave me such an amazing husband.  Gratefulness and thankfulness does not begin to cover it.

Life is certainly not perfect for us, as it's not for anyone, but God has given us a respite from the trials and adversity we've been straining under the weight of for the last 2 1/2 years, particularly the last year, and most especially the last 5 months.  The thing is, during the months that i was processing all the epiphanies and revelations from our hardships in Italy i was so confounded by God's amazing-ness that i told Him repeatedly,  "Let's do it again, Lord!  Next time i'll trust You more."  Well, we did do it again, only not in Italy like i had pictured, but right here in Tulsa, Oklahoma.  I knew the whole time we were going through such oppressive adversity that this was something of a test to see if i would trust Him, and i'm so relieved to say i did.  I think i've learned that lesson - at least for now.  I pray i NEVER forget it - that just because we have trials, tribulations, suffering or adversity in our lives does not mean that God has abandoned, betrayed, or forsaken us.

A precious lady at church who was suffering with shingles told me one day last fall that during times when the pain was particularly unbearable she would say over and over again, "Thank You, Lord, for this pain", because she didn't want satan to have any triumph over her trials.  Wow!!!  I'm all about not giving satan any credit, so every day that i looked into our post office box and no checks were there to pay the bills or put gas in the car, i would say, "Thank You, Lord, for this empty mailbox."  I can honestly say i did not feel thankful; it was enough to put me in a bad (no - foul -) mood.  But i said it anyway to remind myself that we are to "Consider it a great joy whenever you experience various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance." (James 1:2-3) During other moments when it seemed impossible to take another step or another breath i would say out loud, "I trust You, Jesus. I trust You, Jesus."

So my life right now is wrapped up in giving my children the stability and routine they've lacked for several months, as well as chasing my never-ending quest for simplicity.  And overflowing with thankfulness for my home, family, and church. And i will praise the Lord for bringing us through the fires, and i will praise Him for the times of refreshment.

Life in the Playhouse

Church mice – again.

Short background:  many reading this are not aware that we’ve been living in a fifth-wheel RV since November 10, 12 weeks so far.  Through Andrew’s birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Randall’s birthday, and New Years and through periods of much rain and much cold, (though thankfully, not as much of either as what it could have been considering that it IS winter.)  At the time of posting this blog, we’re hoping to move into an apartment any day!

So much of what we’ve been going through in the last 3 months is reminiscent of our 3 months in Italy.  Even down to the fact that we are once again church mice, this time living behind the church instead of above it.  Every single day is a struggle, often a MAJOR struggle.  It seems that EVERYTHING is a struggle and ALMOST nothing is making sense.  I almost always feel like we look like idiots so keeping focused on what’s really important can be difficult.

So what exactly is it like living in an RV?  I’m sure many of you reading this have gone on vacations in an RV, so you would be familiar with it on a short-term basis.  Extend that familiarity to 3 months.  With 2 children.  Specifically a 16-year-old girl and a 9-year-old boy who can be like oil and water.  Sounds like a blast, doesn’t it?

For those of you who have never set foot in an RV, let me give you a tour!  To start with, think of a room in your house that is about 38 feet by 10 feet, or 380 sq. feet.  Some of you have kitchens that size, or bathrooms, or closets…. Now add furniture.

Picture having to go outside and fill up the water tank every day so that you can have water to shower, flush the toilet, and wash dishes (some of you RV experts will wonder about this one – normally this is not a necessity if you’re hooked up to a city water supply, which we are, but there’s a pressure problem).  Every time you flush the toilet, you have to step on the pedal to fill up the bowl 3 times to shove everything through properly, so it doesn’t get hung up.  You sure don’t want THAT to happen!  The “black water” tank has to be emptied on a regular basis, for us it’s usually once a week, and that means hooking the hose up to the sewer connection and flushing it on out.  

Propane is the primary heating source.  When you use it for heating the RV, the tanks have to be refilled every few days, which runs about $25 each tank.  After about a month of this nonsense, we bought 2 space heaters, a small one for our itty-bitty bedroom, and a larger one for the other, main room.  Now we only have to fill the tank about twice each month.

Speaking of our itty-bitty, cozy bedroom, I have not measured our mattress.  My queen sheets are a little too big for it, and I’m sure full size would be too small.  Randall & I are not tall people at all, but our feet hang off the end of the bed when we stretch out.

Emily & Andrew both sleep in the only other place available for them – the main room.  Emily sleeps on the sofa bed, which sags in the middle, and Andrew sleeps on an air mattress that is just his size, at the foot of Emily’s bed.  So every night they get their beds out, and every morning they put them away.

Our playhouse has no internet, so when we need to get online we have to walk over to the church.  Or go to Barnes & Noble or Starbucks.  And speaking of life outside the playhouse, our “area” is surrounded by a chain link fence with a gate that must stay locked because of church property and a cell phone tower within the fence.  We like to refer to it as living in a “gated community,” except there is no automatic gate to open from the comfort of your car.  No, that would be far too easy.  Instead, you must get out of your warm car, open the combination lock, PUSH WITH ALL YOUR MIGHT to open the gate, get back in said warm car, pull through, get out of warm car, PUSH WITH EVEN MORE MIGHT to close the gate and lock the lock (hopefully without smashing your fingers), get back in warm car, and drive 30 yards to front door of playhouse. It’s really invigorating to do it in a cold rain or when the wind-chill is in the single digits! 

All this said, it only takes one bitterly cold night (which we’ve had many of lately), or seeing someone holding up a “homeless” sign at an intersection to know how good we’ve got it.  The fact is, we can cook (we have a full kitchen, just in miniature, sans dishwasher or garbage disposal, naturally), take a shower, go to the bathroom and watch DVD movies on the 2 TVs (not in the bathroom) all in a warm dry place.  Andrew has the largest “yard” to run & play in that he’s ever had, and that’s just within our fenced area – beyond the fence are a couple of fields.  And we are relatively safe.

So, the BIG QUESTION YOU HAVE… why are we subjecting ourselves to this “misery”, you ask?  Having an infant business, as Okie Bugs will be one-year-old next month, does not usually allow one to make a decent living.  We have made it through our first year with no debt, and me getting a job to help out has not been a possibility due to the health problems I had last fall.  We made the decision to move out of our duplex and into the RV in order to be financially responsible.  No, we were not evicted; nor did we leave anyone hanging.  We just needed a few months to “catch up,” make sure we can still be in business this spring, and honor God with our finances.  It seems that so many people these days choose debt over sacrifice and end up worse off in the long run.  We have always chosen to walk a different road than many of our peers, being drastic when we need to be and trusting God with our today, not our credit cards.  Our children have been learning how to manage their finances and know how valuable a Dollar is (despite what so many think it’s worth, or not). We have been reminded (once again) that there is more to life than ‘stuff’ and will appreciate simple things more.  In the future, as we distance ourselves from this chapter i know we’ll look back and see the humor more than the sarcastic mumble we carry today.  

Despite what others think when they witness our struggle as heavenly discipline or self-inflicted, we just long to hear the words of Jesus "Well done good and faithful servant."  He is our redeemer and He will defend us.

Sherry

Our Bread of The Presence Anniversary

Today is our Bread of the Presence anniversary.  It’s pretty unlikely that anyone reading this has ever heard of such a remembrance, and I’m not even sure I can communicate effectively the profound significance this day holds for us.  Even though it happened 2 years ago, this is the first time we’re celebrating it because we just realized what happened a few months ago.

Hopefully if you’re reading this you’ve already read my testimony (pages 1-14).  You’ll know already by my journal entries during this time 2 years ago that I was desperately struggling with believing that God had abandoned, betrayed and forsaken us, because He was not providing for us in the way that I had expected Him to.  We were starving in many ways during this time.  You’ll also remember that I was doing Beth Moore’s Bible study on the tabernacle during our time in Italy.  I usually dated each lesson as I did it, and some days I did 2 lessons because I had nothing better to do than study God’s Word more. 

Earlier this year I watched one of Beth Moore’s lessons on Life Today called “The Bread of The Presence”, where she tied together the scriptures in John 6 where Jesus calls Himself the Bread of Life, Exodus 16 where God gave the Israelites manna to eat in the desert, and Leviticus 24 where God gives instructions for the bread of the Presence on the table in the tabernacle.  I found these connections profoundly fascinating.  I began to make my own connection at that time between these scriptures and the unleavened bread that we sometimes lived on in Italy.

Some time later I was doing this same tabernacle study again.  When I reached the lesson on The Bread of the Presence, I noticed that the date I originally did it was 11/18/09.  I also noticed that I did 2 lessons that same day, which told me I was having a particularly hard time coping that day.  November 18 sounded vaguely familiar to me, so I went to my prayer journal to see if I had written anything that day.  I nearly fell over when I read the entry for that day:

“Today Emily had the clever idea to make unleavened bread, which only takes flour, oil and salt. (She had learned to make this in Bible class a couple of years before).”

I am absolutely convinced that this was God’s way of showing us that His Presence was indeed with us during that time, only we couldn’t see it until 1 1/2 years later.  As I pointed out in my original testimony, His Hand covered our faces at the time, so we could see His Glory only after He passed by.

HE…IS…SO…BRILLIANT

HE…IS…SO…AMAZING!!!!

Blasted Hormones and "Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire"

Next week is the 2-year anniversary of when God "parted the waters" to get us to Italy.  As i said in my post about Molly, i have a terrible memory on some things, but i have the "gift" of remembering dates/events.  I've been considering writing about our Italian life as we go through these next 4 months, and if we get to make our mission/survey trip to the U.K. and Italy in November, i plan to blog about that each day.

I am smack dab in the middle of my 40's now, and even though changing hormones are NOT an issue with me yet, i think i'm old enough to use it as a light-hearted excuse for all the times that i can't hold back the tears over things that others think are silly or almost insignificant.  So whenever i mention "blasted hormones" in my post, you'll know why.

Last week, i heard the song "Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire", officially known as "The Christmas Song". It took me approximately 2 seconds to recognize it, and just as immediately to burst into tears.  There are a hundred different things that remind me of our life in Italy, but very few are as emotional to me as hearing that song because of what it reminds me of.

Our church apartment (the "Upper Room") was situated at the "T" of Corso Palladio, the most famous pedestrian street in Vicenza.  Whenever we walked out our door, we could either turn right, left, or go straight onto Corso Palladio.  Across the street from us was a piazza (a small park) situated in front of a big, beautiful white museum with columns, statues and marble steps around the front.  The steps that faced Corso Palladio was our internet spot, the closest location we could go to get on the computer.  Which we did multiple times every day.  Whether it was warm, cold, sunny, raining, snowing, early morning, late evening, rush hour, whatever.  To check the bank balance, email, facebook, make phone calls on skype to friends and family, participate in ladies bible study with Grace Harbor church via skype video, whatever.  And besides our internet spot, we would very often (daily) walk on up Corso Palladio and the surrounding neighborhoods.  The only supermarket within walking distance was at the opposite end of the street (less than a mile?), and in between was an entire historic and beautiful neighborhood (500-800 year old buildings) of shops that covered everything from very high-end clothing and decorating boutiques to 2 locations of Tutti al Euro (Everything's a Dollar).  Just up the street and around the corner was the Piazza Dei Signori where the twice-weekly markets, the Chocolate Festival and the Christmas & Epiphany markets were held.  And every Saturday evening Corso Palladio was where the "passagiatta" happened (the evening stroll, where everyone is out walking around seeing and being seen).

And every time we walked out our front door and across the street, there was the chestnut stand, where a lady with short, spiky, flaming red hair (or her husband) was roasting chestnuts.  Randall & i bought a bag once, when we had the money, because neither of us had ever had chestnuts that we knew of.  One bag was all we ever bought; we weren't impressed so it must be an acquired taste.

So every single weekday (because we were in Italy during the entire fall season, past Christmas & Epiphany), and even on Sunday afternoons during the Christmas season, we saw her (or him) whether we thought about it or not.  I wonder if she thought it was weird that we passed by her so often with laptop in hand to go sit on the steps across the street.  And so many times i would start singing the chestnut song, either in part or from beginning to end, to whichever family member was with me.  Just trying to be light-hearted.  And because i've always liked that song, but somehow when you're living in a foreign culture singing a song you've known all your life is comforting.

So since i fell apart over the chestnut song last week, i've been trying to remember if there was any other person that we saw more frequently than the chestnut lady or her husband, and nobody else comes to mind.  And what shatters my heart is that i never really attempted to converse with her, except to acknowledge her with a "Buon Giorno" if i caught her eye as i passed by, or the one time we bought the bag of chestnuts from her.  It probably seems to most of you reading this, as it does to me as i write this in retrospect, that it should have been a great big "duh" to have tried to talk with her.  But if you've read my testimony you'll know that i spent the majority of the 100 days in a sort of crisis mode with life. Thankfully Randall made small attempts, such as on a rainy day he said "Che bello tempo!" (What beautiful weather!), and she replied with a smile, "per un'anatra" (for a duck)."

I have looked up our neighborhood on Google Maps, and you can see our church apartment, the "internet steps" and the chestnut stand; unfortunately it wasn't open when the photo was taken.  If we get to go to Italy in November, you'd better believe i'll be buying a bag of chestnuts from her.  And attempting to talk to her.  If i can hold back the stupid tears long enough to not look like an idiot.

P.S. Just so you understand how sappy and sentimental i am, i couldn't even edit this post without crying.  Blasted hormones!

9/8 Deathdate Musings - grateful for blessings!

Seventeen years ago last night, as i laid down to sleep in the waiting room of Arkansas Children's Hospital, i so distinctly remember telling Randall that i hoped when i awoke in the morning everything we'd just been told would have been a nightmare, not reality.  Sadly it was reality.

No matter how many years pass by, we mamas (and daddies) remember all the minute-by-minute details of our children's death.  I have trouble remembering names and taking my blood pressure pill and whether i shampooed my hair yesterday, but i remember tiny little snipets of those last 20 hours as if i'm watching a slow-motion film.  Like after the doctor told us Wednesday evening that if Molly didn't show any signs of improvement from the ekg they'd do the next morning they'd have to take her off the ECMO unit, and how suddenly sugar sweet the nurses were to us, offering to allow me to "sponge bathe" Molly (very tricky with all the tubes and wires she was hooked up to).  And how i'd already read through the entire Beginner's Bible aloud to her during that week, but i read it aloud to her from beginning to end again between Wednesday evening and Thursday afternoon.  And waking up at 5:30 Thursday morning (to a cold reality rather than a nightmare) to go in and sit with her and read and sing to her some more.  And the chaplain who spent time ministering to us and showing us a selection of little bitty smocked gowns to choose from that ladies routinely make for these kind of occasions.  And how every spare moment i had that morning i spent in the chapel begging God to save her life.

And i remember the various friends and family, and friends of friends who dropped in at the hospital to minister to us, and i SO DISTINCTLY remember how comforting that was to me.  Some were people i hadn't seen since graduating from Harding, but they dropped everything and came to Little Rock when they heard what was happening.  I remember being allowed to hold Molly for the last time before they would remove her from life support, and being told that i could take as much time as i wanted.  But i've never been one to prolong the inevitable, so after about 5 minutes i handed her back to them and told them to get it over with.  She wasn't conscious anyway, and the fact was i could have sat there for the rest of my life just holding her, but what was the point?  And then we all sat outside the room and waited for about 30 minutes, till one of the doctors came out and said she'd already "expired".  (I can't tell you how much i loathe that word when used for people - coupons "expire", not babies.)  And how i simply couldn't believe that God missed the opportunity for a miracle.

I also remember how my precious husband kept telling me throughout that week, and throughout that day, that "We're gonna praise God, no matter what."  I'd never heard or thought of that before, so it was a new concept to me.  And a strange one.

So now here we are, 17 years later, same day of the week, even.  Still remembering and sobbing.  And still learning/trying to praise God no matter what happens.  Looking around me and seeing that same precious husband, a thousand times more dear to me than 17 years ago, and 2 precious children, and even a dog. (But the dog is only precious because of my children :0)  Anytime someone i'm meeting asks me how many children we have, there's always this moment of hesitation and indecision of how to answer.  We have 2 children here to be seen by all, but the fact is we have 3 children - one of them is waiting for us in heaven.