November 30 - “Surgery Chronicles: Day Two … Tooty-Horned Walker Day”

Our night spent in the hospital was … a night spent in the hospital.  Not much sleep.  Vital signs every so often (One time I asked if she wanted to take the other signs as well.  She asked, “What other signs?”  I told her, “The not-so vital ones.  They are feeling a little under-appreciated.”  She didn’t have an answer, and sadly, didn’t take any non-vital signs, but she did laugh). 

But the morning was oh-so worth it.  As the Bible says, “Joy comes in the morning.”  Since I wasn’t getting much sleep anyway I rolled over and took a glance out of the window.  Wow.  My room had a gorgeous view of the Gulf of Mexico, and the sun was rising over the water.  Absolutely gorgeous.  Chris was sleeping on a couch under that window, so I had a view of two beautiful things at once.  She has a knack of knowing when I am awake, though, so she roused and asked me what was wrong.  I responded, “Turn around.”  She, too, could only say, “Wow.”  Since my bed was across the room, she took several pictures so I could see the whole effect.  If you have to be in the hospital, let me recommend a room for you … Jennie Sealy 1107. 

A new physical therapist was assigned to me that new day.  Jessica taught me how to use a walker. She helped me remember what to do when faced with steps: 

“Good people go to heaven. Bad people go to … the other place. Good leg goes up first. Downstairs? Bad leg leads the way.”  I think I can remember that. 

Later in the day I finally got my very own walker delivered, and Jessica put it together. I installed the horn. Yep. Got me a tooty-horned walker now. Watch out. We’re busting out of this place. 4:15 island time. The transportation guy who wheeled me out to the car really liked my horn. He insisted I toot it at people on the way out, over Chris’ protests. But hey … a hospital staffer told me to do it. We toot-greeted the nurses’ desk and the two ladies who rode the elevator down with us. They are all of the opinion that horns should be installed on all hospital-issued walkers.  Chris seemed to disagree. 

First night at home we had a few visitors. The Holt’s and the Geran’s came by. I slept on the couch so Chris could get some sleep. Not sure how that worked out. I had to roll into the bathroom around midnight. IV fluids are still flushing out my system I guess. Then at 2:30 I made my way back again. But this time I had a different purpose. It was time for a pain pill. I think I could have roughed it out but then I would have had to face the wrath of the Chris for waiting too long. She was quite gracious about the whole thing. 

In fact I tooted my appreciation as she headed back to bed. I love that walker horn. Chris is still not a fan.  I did manage to doze off a time or two before realizing around 4:30 that I was seeing some interesting things every time I closed my eyes. Sometimes it was people in scary makeup. Once it was a dog. Random. Once a lady’s face transformed into a mountain. I’m pretty sure I saw Jesus in there, too. At least my personal favorite of the artists’ renditions out there. Probably a pain drug reaction. Lots more fun than nausea, though.

Psalms 118:27 says, “The Lord is God, and he has made his light shine upon us.”

Father, thank you for the meds that get me through the pain, but thank you more for … my tooty-horned walker.  Amen.

November 29 – “Surgery Chronicles: Day One C … Gown-Gaping Extravaganza”

The pick-up-the-food-tray girl was another of my "laughter /at least a smile" projects. She came in to pick up my food tray, but I didn’t have one. Kel let her know that we were, in fact, hungry and waiting for a food tray.  A look of near-panic came over her face.  She apologized profusely, and explained that she didn't have anything to do with anything except picking up trays.  

Sensing her distress, I smiled and asked her name (I asked everybody who came into the room what their name was.  Some of them were so appreciative of being acknowledged that they wrote their name on my little room blackboard.  The housekeeping lady even left her card.  That’s because I thought she said Rosanna instead of Susanna.  When I finally got it right she came over and fist-bumped with me).  So back to the tray lady.  She stayed and within minutes unloaded burden after burden from her personal life, even shedding a few tears. We ended up praying together. Guess what they say about pastors is true ... always on call. 

On the lighter side (light-headed, that is), I did take a walk the day of surgery. A real Gown-Gaping Extravaganza. Headed right out of the room and made a break for the Gulf (big ol picture windows here with a gulf view). The Physical Therapy guy jokingly reminded me to save some energy for the return trip. Well, I made it as far as the door of the room next door. So close. But suddenly my head started spinning and I got very nauseated. A nearby staffer whipped a desk chair behind me and eased me down. After waiting for my stomach to settle a bit they wheeled me back to bed in the desk chair. Meds for nausea added to the list. Another bout came later on when I was trying to learn how to do a blog post using the iPad. Guess the brain usage intensity involved in such a momentous document was more than I could handle. I think the docs decided I was reacting to the anesthesia from surgery combined with the pain meds. 

Psalms 118:25-26 says, “O Lord, save us; O Lord, grant us success.  Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.  From the house of the Lord we bless you.”

Father, please be with the food tray girl.  Touch her heart, protect her, and direct her path.  Amen.

November 28 – “Surgery Chronicles: Day One B… Jokester”

Since any time in the hospital is not usually fun for anybody concerned (except maybe for the orthopedic surgeons who get to chisel out bones with a big ol’ hammer), I decided to try to get a smile out of everyone. The anesthesiologist, however, was tough. Straight-laced, by the book, perfectly professional all the way.  He finally headed out ... and proceeded to drop the notebook (my chart) right on my bad knee. I groaned and said, “Owwww.  That’s my bad knee. But it’s ok. I have another one. And you guys are gonna fix it now aren’t you?”  It took him a count or two to regain his composure, but he did finally grin. 

As I was wheeled into Operating Room, there was a hustle and bustle of activity, everyone doing his own separate job.  They told me it was time for me to do some work.  I had to crawl onto the operating table by myself.  Done.  Strapped in.

Finally the surgeon got everyone’s attention.

Surgeon: “Let’s begin the pre-op.”

Suddenly, everyone surrounded the bed, looking down on me. All I could see was a mass of eyes (the rest of the faces were covered by surgical masks).  I wondered if they were about to hold a prayer meeting right there.  Not unappreciated, but certainly unexpected.  Sadly, she had another agenda.

Surgeon: “What’s your name?”

Silence all around. Finally one of pairs of eyes closest to me whispered, “She’s talking to you.”

Me: “Oh, I thought we were going around the circle introducing ourselves. OK.  I’ll go first.” I shared my name 

Surgeon: “What is your birthday?”

I knew the game now.  I jumped all over that one. 

Me: “8-14-53”

Surgeon: “And what are we doing for you here today?”

Me (with a hint of a grin on my fully exposed face): “We are doing a full knee replacement on my right knee.”

Surgeon: “Right! Ok. Full replacement on your right knee.”

She then turned the page on her clipboard.

Me: Wait! No! It’s not the right knee. I was just kidding. The right knee is the wrong one. We’re doing the left knee.  Left.  The one that one of you guys autographed. Want to see it?  No!  Do the left one.” 

Surgeon (sighing and actually checking for the autograph): “Oh. Left knee.  Got it.” 

The whole room laughed out loud, And from somewhere in the huddled mass of eyeballs: “Not something to joke about right now, is it (snicker snicker)?”

I like laughter. I also like a relaxed and hence more focused Operating Room crew. 

I don’t remember much after that. The guy standing behind me said, “Here breathe some of this pure oxygen.  No, take deep …”  And then he stopped talking.  Or perhaps I just stopped hearing.  I was gone. 

Psalms 118:24 says, “This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

Father, thank you for taking over the focusing and relaxing part of the job for that OR crew.  They did a good job under your direction.  Amen.

November 27 – “Surgery Chronicles:Day One”

I got a call from my surgeon’s resident after church on Sunday.  Seems my surgery was bumped in favor of an emergency broken hip.  The good news was, we didn’t have to wake up until 5 a.m. instead of 3 a.m. Chris didn’t believe me when I told her. And when I woke up around 4, I felt like I had had an actual good night’s sleep.

As I was lounging at my desk at 5:24, enjoying the brief respite before the coming storm,  my phone rang.  It was the surgery at the hospital … wondering where I was.  Seems no one told them about the time change. “Come on right now,” they scolded me.  Nicely, though.  Trying to be helpful, I rushed to the bathroom where Chris was just getting out of the shower.  I told her the good news.  She didn’t seem at all elated at this development in our hospital adventure. And I haven’t seen her move that fast in a long time. We were at the hospital by 6:00.  Not bad.

Visitor list:
Chris, of course.
Kel got there just in time to walk with us to the OR.
Lauren and Violet were the first ones there.  Great prayer.
Sam arrived shortly thereafter.  Another great prayer.
My cousin Jer drove all the way in from Florida.
After the surgery Kel returned with his whole family.
Nathan and April and Cailyn came.  Cailyn made me a beautiful card encouraging me to get home before Christmas.   And then came the second work of art.  Simple. Poignant.  It was a rendition of my knee with the inscription, “Red Hot Knee.” And she even included a box of red hots. That’s my girl.
Cathy made it by as well.  I understand it was her second attempt.  She missed us the first time.
Chris and I both were inundated with texts and emails and FaceBook good wishes and prayers.

I’m going to take a break here. Kind of worn out.  I’ll continue the drama when I get home.

Jeremiah 33:3 says, “Call to me and I will answer you and show you great and unsearchable things you do not know.”

Father, thank you for the encouragement of friends and family.   It made all the difference in the world to both of us. Amen.

November 26 – “Yep … It’s today”

Countdown to Hospital Gown Streaking Opportunities … Today.

Not sure when I will be up to blogging again, so let me go out on a high note …

Psalms 118:15-16 says, “Shouts of joy and victory resound in the tents of the righteous: ‘The Lord's right hand has done mighty things!  The Lord's right hand is lifted high; the Lord's right hand has done mighty things!’”

Father, here we go.  I’m trusting this old knee of mine to your duly appointed representative.  Keep her in your hands.  Amen.

November 25 – “Turkey Bowl 2018 – Classic Moments”

Countdown to Physical Therapy Drudgedom … one day.

Well, yesterday was the umpteenth anniversary Vaughan Turkey Bowl football game.  And like many of its predecessors, this one held its … “classic moments.”  Christi contributed to the festivities with a solid gold (sprayed gold nerf football with feather stuck in it – also sprayed gold), brand-new (sort of, kind of hot-glued to an old trophy frame and propped up with a spare piece of lumber) trophy to be presented to whoever best exemplifies the nature of the game.  And there were many nominees. 

Micah for his portrayal of an angry bear rushing madly at the poor, unsuspecting quarterback. 

Caleb and Josiah for the zany plays they came up with, making an offensive possession last a fortnight (FYI, that means fourteen days, not a video game).

Uncle Josh for his miraculopus (not a typo.  That’s a new word to describe an all-new escapade) hidden ball under the back of his shirt for a touchdown.

Wiggle-foot Jachin and his jukes and twists and fakes and turns to gain yard after yard.

Old Cripple-knee DadDad caught a TD pass, but since he wasn’t actually in the game at the time, there was a challenge on the play.  Replay officials are still evaluating the situation.  Their decision is expected sometime in early 2019.

Five-year-old Noa scored her first touchdown. 

So did her counterpart, Luke.  He added a classic rugby placement of the ball in the end zone (Yes, we know it was the wrong end zone, but he didn’t, and he was so excited, that everybody on both teams cheered him anyway).

Special mention even goes to Cory, who was invited to play, but ended up in Kansas instead.  I told him that made for one long pass for a TD.  He replied, “But I’m open.  You can make it.”  The pass is still in flight.  Last report was somewhere over Dallas.  I guess we’ll find out next week if he muffed it.

I have to say, though, that the most unexpected contrivances of the game were the post-touchdown celebrations developed by Micah, Zakary, and Jachin.  “Sign my ball,” “High-kick dancers,” and “Intricate choreography” were masterpieces this year.

When the votes were all tallied, however, there was a problem with the ballots.  Seems the first half of the paper was somehow ripped.  And since there was no policy in place to deal with election irregularities, the trophy was awarded by last name only.  It went to … drum roll here … Vaughan.  Hmm.  Not a problem, though.  The entire bunch grabbed the trophy and held it aloft.  Some even kissed it for the photo op.  What a bunch.  I kind of like these Vaughans.

Psalms 118:14 says, “The Lord is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation.”

Father, thank you for our little group of footballers.  Amen.

November 24 – “TCS”

Countdown to Cripple-skipping around the Unit … two days.

This is the latest I’ve been at getting a blog post out in a long time.  Why?  Well, last night was TCS - Thanksgiving Cousins’ Sleepover.  Eight of our ten grandkids were strewn about the living room floor, couches and chairs.  They did a pretty good job of calming down, though.  That was thanks to the new Netflix original release, The Christmas Chronicles.  It’s rated TV-PG, though.  A few of the so-called “mild” cusswords, but all in all it received the Mommies Vaughan seal of approval.  I liked it, too.  Lots of fun and many places were geared at adults, so everyone will enjoy this one.  Then this morning the first three awake, Caleb, Cailyn, and Josiah all got to accompany me to the donut shop.  And now they are slowly integrating into a video game tournament.  But so far two different ones have snuck into my office and just wanted a quick snuggle-hug.  I can handle that any time.  Better get back into the fray, though …

Psalms 118:6 says, “The Lord is with me; I will not be afraid.  What can man do to me?”

Father, thank you for these sweet youngsters.  Love em.  Amen.

November 23 – “Thank you … yup”

Countdown to Metal-detector Madness … three days.

Ah, Thanksgiving Day.  Gotta love it. 

I started the day making my regular deliveries.  I went to each of the six fire stations and gave them a bag of fried turkey.  Also prayed for them at each place.  I always appreciate the reverence and respect the guys show when I visit and especially when I pray.  Classy bunch of human beings, even if they are hesitant to admit it sometimes.

We invited whoever wanted to come by from church to join our family for some food and relaxation.  Several of them did make it.  Others who said they might come by found other ways to celebrate, and that was just fine as well.  We did have (and still do) plenty of food.  Fried turkey, of course, topped the list, along with ham and green beans and corn and green bean casserole and corn casserole.  Then there was stuffing and mashed potatoes and gravy.  Oh, and yams with cinnamon and brown sugar and marshmallows on top.  Our oddity entry of the year came when Jim arrived with his signature tiny crockpot filled with those little sausages in barbecue sauce.  Good stuff.  And speaking of sweets, the apple pie is gone.  It departed this life soon after Josh arrived and finished his evening meal.  Christina’s signature chocolate pie will soon follow.  She also experimented with a chocolate peanut butter pie.  I couldn’t say how good that one was.  I don’t mix peanut butter with anything but jelly, and especially not with chocolate.  What a waste of taste.  I suppose some people liked it.  Gotta have something for everyone.  Charlette brought carrot cake cupcakes.  Chris made a pumpkin pie.  Josh and Christi added veggies and fruit and a pecan pie.  I guess you could say that we had most of the food bases covered. 

The afternoon was spent watching grandkids run and laugh and tumble and play all through the house.  And when Josh and Christi arrived in the early evening, it all started over again.  Great stuff.  Then last night, after the LaMarque cousins went home and the Waco cousins were all settled in bed, Josh and Christi disappeared into the night … to do some shopping.  Had to get a jump on Black Friday, you know.  They are still in bed, so I haven’t heard the tales of their late-night adventure yet.  We’ll see at breakfast …

Psalms 118:1 says, “Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever.”

Father, thank you.  Yup.  That’s it.  Just thank you.  Amen.

November 22 – “We’re not in WalMart anymore, Toto”

Countdown to Tooty-horned Walkerdom … four days.

We were successful in our venture into the wilds of Texas yesterday.  We made our way to The Woodlands Mall.  Yes, the “The” has to be capitalized, because it’s part of the name of the city.  That has always seemed a bit odd to me.  Why not just “Woodlands”?  As it stands the city will always be lost in alphabetical lists amongst the vast array of other cities that start with the letter “T.”  But no one asked me. 

Once we located the proper entrance we made our way inside.  That’s when I began to suspect that we were a bit out of our element.  The man who got out of the car next to us was actually wearing a sports coat.  The ladies were dressed to the hilt in actual dresses.  I think we missed the memo that we were supposed to dress us just to get in the front door.  And later, after the party, I was walking around the Dick’s Sporting Goods Store.  Upstairs and down.  And that’s when I knew beyond a doubt that we were not in WalMart anymore, Toto.  How did I know?  As I passed through the sporting goods section I heard a crash.  Now in WalMart that would have been something simple, like a few kids tossing around a football, or a 300 pound linebacker-type guy riding around on a tricycle, or a teenager test driving a skateboard, or even three or four grown women trying on those creepy giant rabbit Halloween head things.  Any of those things would have been totally within the realm of “WalMart normal.”  But not here.  Want to hear the source of the sound?  A father and his son were, indeed, playing catch.  And there was, indeed, an errant ball that was missed and subsequently crashed into a display.  But they were using … lacrosse sticks.  Can you imagine?  Lacrosse?  What would happen if we turned loose a set of lacrosse sticks and a ball at WalMart?  Hey, who would even need a ball?  I can think of a whole aisle of trinkets that would be fun to see flying above shoppers’ heads on Black Friday …

Oh, but back to the party for a second.  We did get AnnaGrace christened as a two-year-old (a little early.  Her actual birthday is the 30^th.  I looked it up).  And the party consisted of cookies and blowing out candles and the pies de resistance, riding on the carousel.  Yep.  That place has a full-blown carousel.  Now I have to say that I really wanted to ride the big ol’ chicken.  Big as I was, that chicken.  Bigger even.  But before I could reach it, some little kid beat me to it.  I had to settle for a boring old wild stallion.  But Luke rode next to me on another horsie, so I wasn’t scared.

Psalms 117:1-2 says, “Praise the Lord, all you nations; extol him, all you peoples.  For great is his love toward us, and the faithfulness of the Lord endures forever.  Praise the Lord.”

Father, thank you for a safe trip.  Thanks for the birthday fun.  And thanks for AnnaGrace.  Sweet girl.  Amen.

November 21 – “The next generation”

Countdown to Recoveryville Anguishness … five days.

Aaaaand … here we are, twelve turkeys later.  Gotta say a big thank you to Micah and Uncle Nathan for all their help with those birds.  I confess, I used up everything I had energy-wise somewhere in the middle of the day.  When I woke up from a nap, things were running quite smoothly on the turkey front.  Good to know the next generation is prepared to take over the reins. 

Speaking of the next generation, Chris had a lot of help in the kitchen as well.  Noa and Josiah and Cailyn and even Micah all helped Nana make cookies – chocolate chip and sugar cookies – and apple pie and pumpkin pie.  And not to be deterred, Jachin managed to break from watching Hallmark movies long enough to crush coke cans out in the garage. 

Back in the back yard, Nathan got a call from a friend asking if he could use some dirt.  We had just been talking about how the old roots from the giant pecan tree we used to have (that would be ten years ago.  It died after Hurricane Ike) were rotting away under the pavers that make up our patio.  A few wheelbarrows later, Nathan had leveled out one of the areas.  The other will have to wait until we can dump the used turkey frying oil.  One of the pots now sits right on the precipice of the impending crater. 

But first we have another event planned for today.  We are heading out in just a few minutes to The Woodlands Mall.  Yep.  Another Texas trek.  This time, though, we are going to a party.  At a carousel.  For a certain beautiful little two-year-old named AnnaGrace.  I think I can force myself to endure a trip “up North” for her sake …

Psalms 116:12-13 says, “How can I repay the Lord for all his goodness to me?  I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord.”

Father, please keep the fire fighters who are returning home from California safe so that they can enjoy the holidays with their families.  Amen.

November 20 – “Plenty of stuff”

Countdown to Patient Perspective Ponderings … six days.

I am on a roll of sorts.  Actually it’s just that I’m trying to get as much as possible finished on my pre surgery to do list before the family and friends begin arriving for the Thanksgiving festivities.  And by festivities I mean things like, for instance, today we have to fry ten or twelve turkeys and Chris and a few of her granddaughters are going to bake some pies and cookies. 

It also meant that yesterday we had to make our annual meg-shopping spree trip to … where else? … WalMart to get all the food stuffs that are required to make a Chris-based Thanksgiving feast come to life.   There were a lot of things in that basket that I recognized; not, however, that I would necessarily eat all of them.  Corn.  Potatoes.  Oranges.  Bananas.  Yams.  Pie filling stuff.  That red stuff that my Mom liked.  What was that stuff called?  Oh, yeah.  Cranberry sauce.   Dr Pepper.  Sugar.  Gotta have sugar for sweet tea, right?  Snack refills.  Won’t take long for those to be depleted once the grandkids start arriving.  And there was plenty of other stuff in there that I’m sure will miraculously rematerialize as something tasty come Thursday around noon. 

So now it’s time to drag out the fry-cookers and pour the peanut oil and heft the turkeys for a day of frying.  Twelve turkeys.  Two fryers.  An hour for the grease to get hot.  About an hour for each turkey to cook.  Transfer time.  We’re looking at a good eight hour day.  Here we go …

Psalms 116:8-9 says, “For you, O Lord, have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling, that I may walk before the Lord in the land of the living.”

Father, please keep us safe from the hot grease and flames.  And help the girls have a lot of fun in the kitchen, cooking with Nana.  Amen.

November 19 – “Whoa before woe”

Countdown to Hospital-Surprise Sustenance … seven days.  (OK, OK.  Countdown has been adjusted.  My mistake).

I sit here at my desk this morning staring at … a cookie.  Yep.  Yesterday I was gifted with a snowman cookie by one of the girls at church.  She told me she had no problem selecting one for me.  She said it “looks just like you.”  Wow.  Immortalized in an icing-infused sugar cookie.  I am humbled.  I am also still a little hungry after breakfast.  This dude may not last until lunchtime.

We had quite a few visitors at church yesterday.  Part of that was because of our guest speaker at our Dinner Theater Dinner on the Grounds Extravaganza.  But there was one guy who came just because he knew me.  Sweet, huh?  Ernest is a friend from way back in my Houston Baptist University days.  Way back.  Way, way back when there was a 19 in front of the year and marriage to Chris was still a determined gleam in my ever-stalking eye.  And he went on the same study trip to the Holy Lands that I did back then.  He apparently told the friend he brought with him “all about me.”  It’s always frightening to hear comments like that.  Especially when I don’t remember some of the things he does.  Not that I doubt that I did them.  I’m sure I did.  See, I was a fun guy back then.  Now I have mellowed and matured and calmed down a lot.  I did appreciate the word of encouragement his friend offered.  “It is really obvious that you like what you do.”  That’s positive, isn’t it?

Our guest speaker was a potter from the Bryan area.  We met her at her shop on our way to the doomed Promise trip last month, and she agreed to come share at Seaside.  Her message was impressive, too.  All about God being the potter and us being clay.  The most powerful part of the presentation, however, was her personal testimony about how far she has come since discovering what it was like to totally surrender to Jesus.  I did have one particular favorite line, though.  She quoted a passage from Isaiah, and then added, “When God says ‘Woe’ … you better Whoa.” 

Isaiah 45:9 says, “Woe to him who quarrels with his Maker, to him who is but a potsherd among the potsherds on the ground.  Does the clay say to the potter, 'What are you making?'  Does your work say, 'He has no hands'?”

Father, thank you for the chance to see old friends and make some new ones.  And help me to pay attention to your cries of “Whoa” before they become cries of “Woe.”  Amen.

November 18 – “Blah, blah, blah, chicken …”

Countdown to Chemically Enhanced Marvel-slumber … ten days.

Before heading to the wedding last night (which was quite the affair.  I had to wear a suit), we decided to take in a few of the sights.  Well, actually we decided to go to a big craft fair we saw advertised.  We had to drive for 20 or 30 minutes to get there, and we saw such sights as an armadillo “taking a morning nap” on the side of the road, an array of fully-four-legged cows, and the home of the Postma Puma football team.  The craft show was epic.  It was in a convention center next to the Cy-Fair football complex.  A very large convention center.  And it was packed with 150 or more vendors.  And not just that.  Just while we were there, literally thousands of people came through to check things out.  We did buy one thing.  A modern-art looking rendition of a manger scene made out of different colors of glass in the form of an ornament.  Very pretty.

From there we stopped for lunch.  Based on that meal, I guess I’m about done with Luby’s.  That place has always had a certain nostalgic appeal, since we used to go there all the time with Mom and Dad.  That image has officially been shattered.  Soggy fried okra and day-old-tasting chocolate icebox pie will do that to you.  Sigh.

Next we headed to the Keithley’s house in Magnolia to change for the wedding.  They live way out in the country, so there were some more sights to see.  A Christmas tree farm.  Heifers for sale.  Some Texas longhorns (the actual cattle, not people dressed in burnt orange, although we saw some of those as well back at the craft fair.  In fact we also some fans rooting for the Aggies, West Virginia, Ohio State, TCU, and even one for Baylor.  Gotta love College Football Saturday).  But my favorite was the drive-through nail salon with the nicely dressed mannequin pointing the way.  Absolutely frightening figure right there on the side of the road.  But Chris didn’t even notice the mannequin.  She was too engrossed in the concept of driving through to get your nails done. 

We had to take a short cut or two to avoid the bad construction traffic.  And as we were finally drawing closer to our friends’ house, our short cut was diverted by a sheriff in the road.  We weren’t sure what the problem was, but he was turning a vast majority of the vehicles back.  So we veered toward a short cut of the short cut.  Finally we figured out what was happening.  Our friends apparently live on the route to the Renaissance Festival.  And the sheriffs were stopping people from taking unwarranted shortcuts through residential neighborhoods that had complained.  As we finally got to the last road before our destination, another sheriff pulled us over.  “Where are you going?” he asked.  Somewhat frustrated by this time, Chris quickly called out, “NOT to the Renaissance Festival.”  He wanted to know a specific address.  I told him, “The one at the end of the blue line on my google map app.”  Not good enough.  I had to look up the actual address, and when I read it out to him, he was all thumbs up.  Whew. 

We made it back to the wedding in plenty of time, and everything went off without too many hitches, if you don’t count the power outage during the reception.  The groom’s Dad was amazing, however.  He had prepared for just such an eventuality.  He had a backup generator ready to go.  One thing I had never before seen in all the weddings I have done over the years … First, the groom escorted his Mom in.  That is common and very sweet.  But then, the groom’s Dad escorted in the bride’s Mom.  Actually makes a lot of sense.  The bride’s Dad is going to walk her down the aisle, and the groom’s Mom has her escort.  Why not give old Dad a job, right? 

At the reception we were seated at the same table as seven New Orleans natives.  Fascinating experience.  They were all very friendly, but they truly had a vernacular all their own.  Didn’t understand all their words, but it was sure a fun evening watching them all have fun.  The food was … interesting.  I have no idea what it all was – couldn’t pronounce it.  In fact they had a lady at the buffet table telling what everything was.  I heard, “Blah, blah, blah, chicken, blah, blah, blah, scalloped potatoes, blah, blah, blah, vegetables, blah, blah, blah, chicken, blah, blah, blah, wine sauce.”  Two chickens.  One was just a hunk of chicken.  The other one was some chicken rolled up and hidden inside a roll.  I picked that one.  I love a mystery. 

Psalms 116:7 says, “Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the Lord has been good to you.”

Father, be with Miles and Meghan as they continue their journey together.  Amen.

November 17 – “Way … way”

Countdown to Knee-ness Wonders … ten days.

We made our way way up into Texas yesterday.  I love it when I can put two words together like that and confuse the daylights out of spell check and grammar check.  I am performing a wedding ceremony tonight here in beautiful suburban Cypress, Texas.  Last night was the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner.  Looks like a beautiful venue.  Groom’s parents’ backyard right off a golf course with a lake in the background.  That’s gonna make for some gorgeous wedding photos. 

 The meal was catered by a local Mexican food restaurant.  Pretty good fajitas.  We were seated next to the bride’s Dad, and he regaled us with story after story of his health issues (He just had open heart surgery and rehabbed just in time to walk his daughter down the aisle) and his experiences with hurricanes in New Orleans and Florida.  He’s been through some bad stuff.  Had to be resuscitated three times on the operating table.  Had to wade through two feet of water to turn off the breakers of his house during a hurricane.  But don’t worry.  He assured us that it hit him how stupid that would be just before he touched the breaker.  Instead he found a stick to flip it with.  Oh, and he did it all with an external drain following gall bladder surgery.  Later a flat-bottomed boat with deer hunters in it (rifles and all) came to rescue them.  They floated right into their foyer.  His wife strolled down the stairs and stepped right into the boat.  Never even got wet.  And when they reached the truck that would drive them to dry ground, she stepped right from the boat onto the truck.  Never got wet.  The man married a pretty smart lady, don’t you think?

Now we have until around 4 p.m. to find something to do.  I think we are going to stop by and see some friends in Magnolia since we are kind of close.  The plan is to change clothes for the wedding while we are there.  So …. here goes.

Psalms 116:5-6 says, “The Lord is gracious and righteous; our God is full of compassion.  The Lord protects the simplehearted; when I was in great need, he saved me.”

Father, thank you for getting us safely way way up here to Texas.  Amen.

November 16 – “Batch/Flock/Gaggle …?”

Countdown to Bionically-empowered Implantdom … eleven days.

We did get our batch of turkeys the other day.  Or would that be flock of turkeys?  A gaggle?  A gobble?  What do you call a group of ten turkeys?  Does that change when they are all stuffed into one fridge awaiting Fry Day, which happens on Tuesday of next week?  Ah, such questions that confound the minds of scholars everywhere.  It all just makes me hungry.  OK, wait a minute.  I can’t stand it.  I have to go look it up ………

There it is.  A group of turkeys can be called any of the following: gang, dole, dule, possee, brood, flock, raffle.  That’s crazy.  But let’s get the official word here.  Are you ready for this one?  A group of turkeys is technically called a “rafter.”  Wait.  Why?  I thought that was part of the house.  Sigh.  Ain’t words grand?

Speaking of hungry, I made a quick trip over to WalMart yesterday.  We were out of Kleenex and Chris still has a more than adequate supply of snot to regurgitate.  Is that what happens when it comes out of your nose, or is that one reserved for second-hand mouth-originated extract?  While there she had me pick up some cookies for home group and some crescent rolls.  We’ll use the rolls next week, but she had a coupon for the purchase of three such products.  A whole dollar off.  Gotta use that one.  I even found a few bottles of one of the spices she needed for the turkey rub next week.  Hero here. 

Now you would think such a tiny shopping list would have me back home in a milli-second-ish jiffy.  Not so much.  See, I ran into Doug, a guy from church who just returned from a vacation in Hawaii.  And let’s just say … Doug had a wonderful time in Hawaii.  We talked for a long time.  Great guy.  He has one of the biggest hearts I know, and he enjoys blessing people one at a time in very specific ways.  Glad to have him as part of the Seaside version of the Body of Christ.

Well, I have to cut this one short.  We are heading to Cypress, Texas, where I am performing a wedding this weekend.  Rehearsal at 4:30 today.  Spend the night in a hotel up there.  Wedding tomorrow night.  Back home for a bit of sleep before church tomorrow.  Here we go …

Psalms 115:1 says, “Not to us, O Lord, not to us but to your name be the glory, because of your love and faithfulness.”

Father, we invite you to ride with us on this Texas journey.  And please, heal Chris quickly.  Amen.

November 15 – “Inappropriate”

Countdown to surgery … twelve days (counting today).

Well, Chris is down.  She apparently picked up the cold that Ezra had the other day when the kids were over here.  She is doing all the classic cold-type things.  Sneezing. Watery eyes.  It has slowed her down, but she is a real gamer.  And she’s doing her best to keep me healthy for two more weeks so I can be clean going into surgery. 

Granddaughter Noa FaceTimed Chris yesterday.  Hmm … “FaceTimed.” How does something like that get to be a verb?  Sorry.  Just some grammar musings.  So Noa called to find out when Chris was making pies for Thanksgiving.  Apparently the youngster wants to help.  Chris was communicating the details when she noticed a streak in the background.  Those of you who were around in the 60’s and 70’s will understand what I mean by “streak.”  For the rest of you young whippersnappers, baby brother Ezra toddled by in the background – buck naked.  Or as we used to say with our kids, “buss nessid” or just plain old “nekkid.”  In fact upon seeing the flash on the screen, Nana said, “Ezra, it’s too cold to be running around nekkid.”  And ever the doting older sister, five-year-old Noa replied, “Yes, and it’s very inappropriate.”  Inappropriate.  Well there you go. 

Psalms 113:7-8 says, “He raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap; he seats them with princes, with the princes of their people.”

Father, would you keep us from inappropriate things, both in the way of experiencing them and ... well ... doing them.  Amen.

November 14 – “Boot camp”

Well, it’s official.  Wait.  What’s that?  This just in … the temperature here on Galveston Island is 38 degrees with a wind chill of … 30.  Yikes.  I sure hope somebody catches enough flounder to make this worthwhile.

OK, back to the “official announcement.”  I have attended boot camp and in fact, graduated.  Yep, boot camp.  With apologies to the military, that’s what the hospital staff calls the marathon lecture session for patients getting ready to have full knee or hip replacement surgery.  For almost two hours Chris and I sat with ten or twelve others and heard all the ins and outs of what to expect with being a knee or hip replacement candidate. 

We each received a nifty little red notebook.  Inside were all kinds of informative bits and pieces of data, which when put together were supposed to magically transform us into well-informed, totally at peace patients.  The bulk of the notebook consisted of copies of the powerpoint slides from the lecture.  Stuffed into the pockets were phone numbers and drug information and when my follow-up appointment was scheduled, instructions on how to take a shower (and apply the special bacteria killer they gave us) the two days before surgery, and even a page with my surgeon’s picture on it.  Guess that’s so I can be sure to recognize her when she walks into the operating room.  Although by that time I hope to be out cold, or close to it. 

One registered nurse with the ominous title, “Orthopedic Nurse Navigator” (ONN), explained half of the material.  A physical therapist, “Rehab Manager” (RM), handled the other half.  RM did an OK job, but she was really good one-on-one when questions were asked.  I especially enjoyed it when one guy wearing figurative rose-colored glasses questioned the point about not driving for six weeks.  She looked at him and smiled sweetly and silently for a long three or four seconds before answering, “Yes, that’s true.”  She did finally fill in the blanks with an explanation of the loss of the physical ability to step on the pedals and being impaired by pain medication.  But by that time he had pretty much zoned out.  He kept muttering “six weeks” and shaking his head in dejection. 

Orthopedic Nurse Navigator, on the other hand, was the picture of confidence.  From behind her little jar of Gatorade she raced through her part of the presentation.  The thing that kept standing out about her, though, was the fact that she wanted us to call her personally if we had any questions or concerns.  And then she actually followed through on the spot.  One guy asked a question that could only be answered by his surgeon, so while Rehab Manager was doing her presentation, ONN called the surgeon’s office and got an answer on the spot.  Pretty impressive. 

I had three questions of my own that I asked after class.  Two related to the medications I take regularly.  Seems one of them showed up on the “Don’t take these for three weeks before surgery” list included in our folder.  ONN assured me she would talk to the doc’s office and get a ruling on the matter.  The second was about the meds I take for neuropathy and whether I could take them the morning of surgery.  Come to find out that just happens to be one of the pre-op medications they give anyway, so she said to ask that question of the surgery nurse when she calls on eth Friday before surgery.  The final question was about the jury duty conflict I have run into.  I have been called to jury duty before I will be cleared by the doctor after surgery.  ONN was obviously taken aback, but only for a second or two.  She assured me she would get a letter sent to me by the doc so I could forward it to the jury people. 

Two other informative details came out of the session.  They no longer use that machine to force your knee to move after surgery.  I remember Mom having one of those things.  Research has shown that there were no significant differences in patients using the machine and those who didn’t.  The whole point is to get you to move on your own, so the better idea is to get you up and moving as soon as possible.  Sounds perfectly reasonable to me.  The second little tidbit was a simple clerical thing.  Now I will be signed up for physical therapy rehab before I even sign into the hospital.  Efficiency. Right? 

So now for the next 12 days (Yup.  Less than two weeks) I get to attack my exercises and ponder the wonders of bionic living.  Sounds like fun. 

Psalms 113:5-6 says, “Who is like the Lord our God, the One who sits enthroned on high, who stoops down to look on the heavens and the earth?”

Father, thank you for the information and especially the encouragement from ONN and RM yesterday.  Would you give them a particularly blessed day?  Amen.

November 13 – “Strange beasts”

Just for the record … it is 43 degrees with the wind out of the North Northwest at 24 mph, with the wind chill making it feel like it is 34 degrees.  That, folks, is beyond cold here in Galveston.  Only thing good about that is the fact that it wakes up the flounders.

I got word that three toilets and several sinks in the retreat center at church were either out of order or leaking.  I got word about the issue from the guy who had just taken it upon himself to fix them.  “Just wanted you to know, Pastor, so you wouldn’t worry about it.”  So … I actually got word that the out of order toilets were not out of order.  OK.  Thank you very much Mr. Bob.

Kel’s kids came over to hang out for a while so Mom and Dad could go on a date.  Never know for sure what they are going to want to do, but this time they endeared themselves to me, that’s for sure.  The three older boys, Jachin (15), Micah (12), and Josiah (8), and to a certain degree their little sister Noa (5), all gathered with me around the television set, and stayed enraptured for a long time?  Baby brother Ezra (2) was keeping Nana entertained.  And what production could possibly have done such a phenomenal job of keeping them entertained?  We watched not one but three Hallmark movies.  Yep.  Even the older boys were glued to the screen.  Especially the older boys.  Girly men?  I think not.  See, they are almost as good as I am at providing “alternate” captioning for sappy movies.  Oh, and predicting alternate endings as well.  Almost as good as me.  But then, I may or may not have been doing it for a year or two longer than they have. 

When they got all loaded up into the car to leave, Chris and I stood at the door as we usually do to wave goodbye.  The car light came on.  We heard the engine start.  But they didn’t leave.  The engine stopped.  Then started again.  Then stopped.  Then Kel and Christina switched places.  Same scenario.  Start.  Stop.  I finally grabbed a jacket and walked out to see what was going on.  Everything seemed to be working fine except … it did not want to come out of Park and into drive.  Stuck tighter than a drum.  I stood out in the very cold rain offering moral support for as long as I could stand it.  I invited them to stay the night or suggested that Chris and I could take them home and let Kel use the truck again for work.  And then I went inside.  Within just a minute or two we got a text that it had finally shifted and they were on their way home.  Guess my presence was jinxing them.  Cars are strange beasts.

Psalms 113:4 says, “The Lord is exalted over all the nations, his glory above the heavens.”

Father, thank you for watching over Kel and his family to get them home last night.  Amen.