November 14 – “Hospital games”

The other day I discovered a new game to play in the hospital room while waiting for our friend Jennifer to head into surgery.  It involves all those wires and leads and IV tubes and whatever that thing is they clamp onto your finger.  I mention them all because I have no idea which one does what function, so sometimes they can be a little scary.  And they all lead into that little machine next to the bed that beeps a lot and displays numbers that actually mean something to the medical personnel.  And any time you move just so, it gets confused and starts with that loud beeping warning signal designed to get the attention of the hospital operator down on the first floor. 

In an effort to dissuade some of those fears while waiting for the anesthesiologist to arrive and do his thing, after which the patient doesn’t really care about much of anything and fear becomes distant memory, I chose to focus on the one set of numbers that I did understand – blood pressure.  Imagine all the opportunities for humor related to blood pressure rising or falling in response to certain external stimuli.  We soon realized as well that the machine automatically took a reading every four minutes.  And from that thought arose the now classic game of guess the blood pressure.  I know.  Sounds dull.  The excitement just didn’t last long.  Hence arose the much more stimulating version that we played.

 Knowing that a new reading would appear every four minutes, we decided to engage in a game of manipulating the results.  Would it be possible to control external stimuli to such an extent that we could actually make the numbers increase?  All in the name of science, of course.  Science and impatience.  We fixated on the first number to appear, the one on top.  145.  Good place to start.  We had four minutes to say just the right things that would cause that number to rise.  And who better to know just what to say than your husband and your pastor?  Of course we just talked about puppies and kittens and fluffy clouds and peaceful green fields and still waters.  (Read in that just a bit of sarcasm.  I suppose we were just a little more aggressive in our imagery).  The end result of our first attempt proved quite successful.  The next reading jumped to 156.  We certainly had to step up our efforts after that.  I’m sure the patient was appreciative of our redoubled efforts.  Her attention was effectively diverted from the surgery long enough to get a new world record reading of 167.  Certainly deserving of a high five, if I must say so myself (and I haven’t met anyone else willing to say so, except maybe my cohort, the husband).  We weren’t able to go for another try because the operating room personnel began to arrive.  But the record has been set.  The gauntlet is down.  Let me know how you do at your next hospital visit.

Psalms 37:30-31 says, “The mouth of the righteous man utters wisdom, and his tongue speaks what is just.  The law of his God is in his heart; his feet do not slip.”

Father, thank you for good news after that surgery.  Speed her healing.  Amen.

November 13 – “A bit of preschool wisdom”

We ran into yet another bit of preschool wisdom the other day when Josiah was here for a visit.  His usual routine at some point soon after he arrives is to make sure we are stocked with ice cream.  He is, I’m certain, merely concerned for our welfare.  I mean after all, who can be at their most effective, most productive, most attentive best without an occasional boost of Blue Bell ice cream?  I for one certainly appreciate his active concern.  This particular day, however, even little MaGriff the Fire Dog got distracted.  For what did he see when he pulled open the freezer door?  An entire package of double stuffed oreo cookies. 

OK.  I know what you are thinking.  What was a package of double stuffed oreo cookies doing in the freezer anyway?  They should be freed, out on the counter, available for blessing all comers.  That’s all true in most cases.  As it stands around here, however, we have to be very careful what - and how much – sweet stuff we leave out and available.  On the one hand we do have to be careful about items packaged in places that also deal with tree nuts because of Jachin’s severe nut allergies.  But it’s the other hand that most concerns us on a daily basis.  See, any sweet stuff left unguarded on the counters in our kitchen is fair game for our own resident Cookie Monster.  And those of you who know her know who I’m talking about.  Mom is the master at secretly – and not-so-secretly – absconding with every bit of candy and cookies and cake and cinnamon rolls and apple turnovers – you get the picture – that find their way onto the counter.  A package of double-stuffed oreos wouldn’t stand a chance against her stealth tactics, so the most logical hiding place is the freezer.  Of course it also helps that a double-stuffed oreo is particularly tasty when it is frozen.  Not that I would be the one eating them or anything. 

So Josiah found the stash and decided instantly that his allegiance to Blue Bell could be placed aside temporarily in favor of this new delicacy.  Of course Nani agreed.  She established his place at the head of the table, presented him with his very own frozen oreo and walked away.  But suddenly Josiah cried out for assistance.  Puzzled, Chris returned to offer whatever assistance might be needed.  Pointing to the cookie on the table in front of him, Josiah declared, “I can’t eat that.”  Now really curious, Chris queried, “Why can’t you eat that?  It’s a cookie.”  Frustrated by her lack of understanding, but ever the little gentleman, Josiah patiently explained, “I can’t eat that.  It’s not open.”  Ah, of course.  Chris hastened to meet his concerns, and in seconds had the cookie properly twisted opened and back on the table before him.  His eyes lit up, and with a brief, but admiring glance at his benefactor, he noted, “You opened it,” and proceeded to dig in.  Yeah, those Nani's are amazing.

The moral of the story?  Always have plenty of Blue Bell and when it comes to oreos, open before serving.

Psalms 37:23-24 says, “If the Lord delights in a man's way, he makes his steps firm; though he stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand.”

Father, watch over those awesome grandkids of mine.  All of them.  Amen. 

November 12 – “A kid and a dog”

Josiah showed himself to be quite the little personage when they were here the other day.  He really likes to play with the dogs, and he isn’t at all hesitant to let out with a loud “No” or “Down” when Fritz get into his face.  But being the shortest one around so far (I don’t think he will maintain that designation for long.  He’s a big kid), he really likes to hang out with the dog that’s also built close to the ground.  Heidi is a dachshund.  She’s also skittish about who she feels comfortable around, and even when she does let you get close, she is quick to respond to attention in a - how shall I say it? – damp way. 

So on this particular occasion Josiah tracked Heidi down.  And it took some doing.  He started by checking out her favorite hiding place, which is under some bushes.  Now that was a sight to se.  To get under those bushes you have be about the size of a dachshund.  But Josiah barreled right in, determine to find his little prey.  She wasn’t there, though, so he had to turn his attention to the greater expanse of the back yard.  And he checked everywhere.  He walked up onto the deck.  Nope.  He stuck his head through the dog door to see if she had gone back inside.  Nope.  Wherever he turned, she was managing to stay one step ahead of him.  Finally, though he spotted her in the far back corner, lolling around in the shade of the Satsuma tree.  And off he went.  She must not have seen him coming, because she stayed put this time.  And once she realized he was there, reaching out to pat her, she responded in the first of her two typical ways – she peed.  Patiently, Josiah waited for her to complete the delivery.  Satisfied that she was done, he slowly reached for her again, and Heidi moved to response number two – she rolled over on her back with all four paws sticking straight up in the air in the classic “rub my tummy pose.”  Josiah was briefly taken aback.  He had expected to be patting her on the back, and now that part of her anatomy was denied to him.  He paused for several long seconds, taking in the situation and struggling to decide exactly how he was expected to respond to this strange new development.  And finally it hit him.  He knew exactly what to do.  He squatted down to get as close as he could, and … high fived her front paw.  Of course.  What else would she have been wanting from him?

Psalms 37:18-19 says, “The days of the blameless are known to the Lord, and their inheritance will endure forever.  In times of disaster they will not wither; in days of famine they will enjoy plenty.”

Father, thank you for the special relationship between little boys and dogs.  Amen.

November 11 – “Approved”

A while back I experienced yet another of those humbling thing that I never thought would come my way.  You’d think I would be cured of that kind of thinking after Hurricane Ike and its subsequent food lines and such.  This time it was related to one of the medications I take for rheumatoid arthritis.  It’s a pretty “famous” drug, as drugs go, I guess.  At least I see commercials for it on TV.  The problem came when my insurance company decided not to provide coverage for that particular drug.  They insisted that one of several generics would work just as well.  Now it’s not like the name brand drug was perfect and I was completely pain-free, but it made a noticeable difference at the time.  But I’m a pretty compliant guy, so I tried those generic drugs.  All of them.  Not at once, of course, though I thought about that a time or two.  And the result of my trials was, unfortunately, that none of them worked as well as the non-generic.  In spite of all the trial runs, however, the insurance company insisted that I must be wrong.  They offered to provide the Celebrex, but the cost of the co-pay was to be $500.  So I resigned myself to whatever level of relief would come from one of the generics. 

That’s about the time I got a phone call from a social worker at one of the pharmacies associated with my doctor’s office.  She offered to help walk me through applying for one of those programs with the drug company where they provide you with the drug free.  It took some convincing on her part, but I agreed to fill out the application.  It’s always a pain in the neck to fill out forms of any kind, but it’s especially difficult when you are admitting that you don’t have enough money to pay for something.  Guess it’s the whole male, I’m supposed to be the provider thing.  And in this case they wanted to see everything, even up to a copy of our income tax return.  I managed to swallow some humble pie and got the application in.  After some snafus on the part of my doctor’s office staff, the company finally received all the paperwork they needed to make a determination. 

And … I was approved for the program.  Quite a mixture of emotions with that bit of information.  Excitement that I get to stick with one medication that seemed to work fairly well.  Embarrassment at realizing that the reason I get it is because I was able to prove that I couldn’t afford it.  And to top it off, some friends even picked it up in Houston for me when the company sent it to the doctor’s office instead of here.  Nothing like a little dose of looking your neediness in the face.  But I am ready to get started on it and see if it works for the long haul.  Sure could use some uninterrupted sleep.  Beyond Mom’s nightly prowls, I mean. 

Psalms 40:17 says, “Yet I am poor and needy; may the Lord think of me.  You are my help and my deliverer; O my God, do not delay.”

Father, we have this new tool.  It would sure be nice if you could use it to help with the pain.  Amen.

November 10 – “On Economics”

Yesterday I was in the back yard, systematically trimming an out of control tree and quietly humming to myself, when through the soft bars of the latest song stuck in my head (the advertising ditty for Star Furniture – Gotta get to Star, gotta get to Star, gotta get to Star, different by design.  Aaahgggh) and just above the level of discernible sound since I wasn’t wearing my hearing aids, came a distant clop, clop, clop, clop.  I was fairly certain it wasn’t a horse, since it would have had to come through the house to approach from that particular direction.  I paused from my labors and concentrated more intensely.  It was definitely a clop, clop, but it had more of a cowboy boot sound to it, so I cried out, “What cowboy is that coming into my back yard?”  About that time little two-year-old Josiah rounded the corner, proudly declaring, “No, DadDad, I not cowboy.  I Bob the Builder.”  Sure enough, they weren’t cowboy boots.  Oh, they were boots, all right.  Big ones.  They came up to his knees and were strategically placed on the wrong feet, but they were not of the sort a cowboy would wear.  More likely they would adorn the appendages of a farmer or … Bob the Builder.  He verified his self-introduction by pointing out that his shirt had a picture of a truck on it.  And later I found out from Chris that it was crucial to his peace of mind that his underwear match his shirt, whether it be Bob the Builder or Spiderman or Superman.  If the shirt and undies don’t match, he cannot effectively face the day. 

Now when he joined me I was gather together the scattered limbs into one big pile before I carried them to the street.  Josiah-Bob took in the situation and made an offer, “I help you?”  I like that simple, straightforward.  I welcomed the assistance and he actually tossed more than a few sticks onto the pile.  When we completed that portion of the task, I went inside for a quick drink of water.  I also wanted to carry out an experiment with Josiah’s two older brothers.  I took two quarters to his Mom and, loud enough for both of them to hear, said, “Here is Josiah’s paycheck for helping me in the backyard.  Whoever works around here gets paid.”  I casually glanced in the direction of the other two as I said that last part.  The older one, Jachin, was engrossed in a new library book.  Middle Child Micah appeared to be reading as well, but when he heard my proclamation his ears seemed to wiggle and his head whipped around in my direction.  I didn’t say any more.  I just quietly walked through the back door and resumed my task.

I didn’t take long, though.  Here came Micah, shoes on and ready for … whatever it was that Josiah had been paid to do.  He was ready.  I showed him what the last stage of our job was, hauling the pile of branches out to the street so they could be picked up by the trash truck.  He jumped right in.  I must say he did an admirable job for a focused six-year-old.  He even went above and beyond the call of duty and retrieved the small pieces that inevitably fall from your grasp as you walk along.  It didn’t take long to finish.  Two can accomplish more, and more quickly, than one.  We retired to the house. 

Once inside I decided to take this opportunity to teach a quick economics lesson.  I approached Micah, “Have you discussed what a budget is yet in school?”  They are actually homeschooled by their Mom, so it was certainly conceivable.  His blank look indicated they had not, so I continued.  “It’s like this.  I had budgeted – or set aside - six quarters to get this job done.  Josiah helped stack the branches, so he received two of them.  How many quarters do I have left?”  Micah’s eyes lit up.  This was about money.  The arithmetic started turning in his head, and before long he came up with an answer, four fingers went up.  “That’s what I came up with, too,” I said, pulling four quarters from my pocket and setting them on the counter.  “Now if I gave Josiah two for working, and you also worked, how many should I give you?”  Didn’t take long for him to stake a claim to his well-earned fifty cent paycheck.  But I continued, “So Josiah has two and you have two.  How many does that leave me?”  Again, he quickly ascertained the correct answer, “Two.”  And I continued, “So my budget was six quarters.  I have only used four of them and the job is done.  So what do I do with the other two?”  His eyes grew wide, but he was hesitant to make any suggestions.  Wise move.  By this time I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Jachin had put his book down and was listening to the interaction.  I continued, “Here’s what I think.  All this money left over was going to be spent anyway.  I was totally prepared to spend it all on this job.  So here’s what I’ll do.  You did your job.  But you did more than I asked.  You ran back and picked up the little pieces we dropped.  You worked with a smile on your face and didn’t gripe even once.  I like your attitude.  So I’m going to reward you with what is called a bonus.”  I pushed the last two quarters toward him.  Again his eyes grew large as he grabbed them and put them in his pocket, “I have a whole dollar now.”  There you go, Micah.  That’s the way economics is supposed to work.

Psalms 37:16-17 says, “Better the little that the righteous have than the wealth of many wicked; for the power of the wicked will be broken, but the Lord upholds the righteous.”

Father, help Micah and the other children of our country get a handle on how economics is supposed to work so they can make a difference in the future.  Amen.

November 9 – “On brothers and X-files and future suitors”

Happy birthday to my younger, but taller and in much better shape and way better equipped to beat up potential muggers brother.  I don’t remember much about our growing up time together, but I do seem to recall our mutual older sibling and his cronies telling you often to “Go tell Mommy she wants you.”  It’s not so much that you were gullible enough as a little tyke to fall for it every time.  What I actually remember is that I was the one who usually got in trouble for doing it.  But then, I was just the middle child, a convenient scapegoat for just about anything.  And you know I would never have done anything like that anyway, right? 

We have been watching old episodes of The X-files on Netflix.  Good old Mulder and Skully.  Never did get into that show back when it was the hottest thing around.  After watching it through from the beginning I can see that it’s one of those you have to have seen all along to understand some of the references that come up.  Like the cigarette smoking man shooting President Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr. and covering up all those alien sightings.  Thinking ahead, though, we are somewhere in season three or four, and I have heard that there is a full length movie that came out at the end of one of the seasons.  I’ve also heard that it continues the story line, so it is a must-see event to get the full picture.  OK.  So how do I get hold of that X-files movie?  I checked at WalMart a few times and they haven’t had it.  Guess I may be forced to do the Amazon thing.  Does anybody have a copy of it they can loan us when the time comes? 

Guess I should toss in one Cailyn comment for the day.  In one of our deep and engrossing Granddad to Granddaughter, heart to heart talks, she shared this bit of revealing relationship information.  “DadDad, see,” (I know.  Where did that come from?  She is three and not fourteen, isn’t she?) “I love Yoda.  He’s my best friend.  He’s so cute.”  And there it is.  The short, old, ugly dude gets the gorgeous girl.  Come on, all he can do is raise a spaceship out of the swamp with one hand and never get wet.  Oh, and attack like a super gnat with a light saber.  That’s a lot to live up to, future suitors.  But then, maybe that’s what her Daddy had in mind all along …

Psalms 37:11 says, “But the meek will inherit the land and enjoy great peace.”

Father, grant my baby brother a great day today.  Amen.

 

November 8 – “Wisdom of a three-year-old: on driver safety and losers”

You really have to be careful what you say around children, don’t you?  Oh, I know they are so cute and fun to watch and listen to.  It is inconceivable that anyone could fail to notice them when they are so often engaged in such markedly adorable behavior.  “Oh, look.  Baby just rolled over for the first time.”  “Look.  Baby just took his first steps.”  They even demand our attention when they aren’t in the same room.  “Hey, where’s Baby?  It’s awfully quiet in there.”  But it’s so easy to ignore them and not even realize they are around when you get engrossed in a particularly adult oriented conversation. 

Cailyn and I were having a chat yesterday that revealed some very surprising statements.  The first one came not long after her Mom dropped her off and headed to school.  Cailyn looked up at me with her big brown eyes and offered, “Hey, DadDad?  Y’know what?  My mommy’s car just drove around and smushed that little girl.”

Whoa.  Now that was a show stopper.  I tried to get some more information, but that was all she had to offer.  I jotted down the data and reminded myself to ask about that one.  Later on I managed to get Chris aside and share with her my concerns about our daughter-in-law’s driving escapades.  She laughed that “I-know-just-where-that-came-from” laugh that Chris has had many opportunities to engage in over our years together.  Seems Chris had told April about a news article she read concerning a lady who had accidentally run over her son who had jumped out of the car to retrieve forgotten homework or something.  And within that context, she had warned Cailyn to back away from the car while Mommy was driving away.  Ah.  Not so great a leap, then.  Not any greater than Eve’s.  She had been warned not to eat the forbidden fruit.  She told the snake she wasn’t allowed to touch it.  Sounds like she was making the prohibition personal so she would be sure to remember it.

I returned to working on my sermon on one computer while Cailyn went back to Disney, Jr. on the other one.  Extended periods of silence is not a condition Cailyn is particularly comfortable with, though.  It didn’t take long for her to offer another juicy tidbit.  This one grabbed my attention for a different reason than the last revelation.  This one actually required even more determination for me to maintain control.  This one made me want to explode with … laughter.  She stopped in the middle of one of her sessions with the Disney princesses and turned toward me.  “DadDad,” she began.  “My Daddy is a loser.”  Now wait a minute.  I almost spewed a mouthful of coffee on that one.  She adores her Daddy.  Where in the world did that come from?  Trying to remain objective soi a snot to reveal the guffaw trying to manifest itself, I cautiously asked, “Why is your Daddy a loser, Cailyn?”  Her response was immediate, “My daddy’s a loser because he losed his old fire ‘partment.”  And there’s the answer.  Perfectly reasonable.  See, Nathan just transferred to a different station from the one he has been working at.  He “lost” his old “fire department.”  Makes perfect sense. 

Psalms 37:8 says, “Refrain from anger and turn from wrath; do not fret — it leads only to evil.”

Father, watch over Mommies while they drive and Daddies at work.  Amen.